‘I’m Monica,’ she said coldly, her amber eyes narrowed. ‘I’m Eliza’s sister. And you are?’

Gabriella showed Monica her badge. ‘Sorry, Monica. Eliza didn’t tell us you were twins.’

Two sets of twins . . . thought Con. Is that just a coincidence?

Monica relaxed. ‘Thought you were journalists. They’ve already tried to speak with her twice.’ She opened the door wide. ‘Please, come in. Eliza is in bed, or maybe she’s in the shower by now: I’ll go get her.’

They followed Monica into the kitchen – black marble with bone-white flourishes – and sat at the counter. Monica headed down the corridor, short hair bouncing.

‘Two sets of identical twins in one town,’ said Con. ‘Is that unusual?’

‘Limestone Creek isn’t that small,’ said Gabriella. ‘It’s not necessarily abnormal.’

A few moments later Monica returned, Eliza following behind.

The bruising on Eliza’s face had worsened, but she wore a pink dressing gown, hoop earrings and a leopard-print scarf around her head. ‘Hi again, Detective Badenhorst.’ She held out her hand to Gabriella. ‘I’m not sure we’ve met, Detective . . .?’

‘This is Detective Pakinga, but just calling us Con and Gabriella is fine,’ said Con. ‘How are you feeling this morning?’

‘Physically? Much better.’ Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. ‘Apart from that . . . what am I supposed to say? That this feels like a nightmare and I’m barely holding on? That I keep reliving that morning over and over?’

‘Yesterday . . . you said you couldn’t quite remember . . .’

‘I don’t remember anything more than I’ve already told you,’ she said. ‘The last thing I remember is leaving Georgia to find the girls, everything going all weird, then waking up on the ground.’

‘Did you hear footsteps?’ said Gabriella suddenly.

‘Ah . . . so the Hungry Man is a suspect now, is that right?’ said Eliza, a little uneasily. ‘Look . . . when I woke up, I thought maybe I did. My memory is hazy, part of the concussion, the doctor said. I don’t remember half of what I said to Carmen, I don’t remember walking down the trail as far as I did before they found me, and I have a vague memory of . . . Maybe I did hear footsteps? I do keep getting that stupid rhyme in my head, so it’s hard to tell.’

‘What rhyme?’ said Gabriella.

‘You haven’t heard it yet? It’s legend up here – does the rounds every generation . . .

‘Up in the hills, he hides and kills.

Down in the caves, he hides and waits.

The Hungry Man, who likes little girls,

with their pretty faces and pretty curls.

Don’t believe what the grown-ups say,

the Hungry Man will find a way.

So I won’t walk alone by the mountain trees,

or the Hungry Man will come for me.’

Gabriella shuddered. ‘That’s horrifying.’

‘Tell me about it. Denni used to write it on her walls – she was obsessed with the Hungry Man.’