Over the coming weeks, Anita would be covering a big defamation trial and a coronial inquest into deaths caused when a stage collapsed at a music festival, so there was little possibility that she would run into Rohan in court. Just as well. If she saw him, she couldn’t trust herself not to rush to him and blurt out everything.

In the past—before Paula started murdering people—Anita would have dissected the Rohan break-up with her friend, listened to her advice, soaked up her comfort, but that was no longer a possibility.

Anita begged off a couple of family events and avoided seeing any other friends. She didn’t know how to be with people while she was carrying this knowledge in her guts. So the days sank into more and more solitude.

When two weeks had gone by with no word from Paula, Anita’s anxiety began ratcheting up. She scrolled through the green column of texts on her phone: all the messages she’d sent to Paula with no response. She couldn’t stand it—the not knowing—so on impulse, she drove towards Marrickville Family Practice, ringing ahead from her car.

‘Hi. Could I make an appointment with Dr Kaczmarek, please?’ she asked.

‘I’m sorry. Dr Kaczmarek is on indefinite leave at the moment,’ Jemma replied. ‘Would you like to see one of the other doctors?’

‘Uh … no. Thanks. Bye.’

Anita took the next turn to the left and drove on to the Earlwood house. She wanted to reassure herself that Paula was alive.

She parked a few houses down and walked along the footpath towards Paula’s place. There was no sign of her car and the low metal gates across the empty driveway were closed. The curtains were drawn across the front windows.

Most likely Paula had chosen to go away. That was the most likely thing. She was a profoundly sensible woman who would take herself away to some tranquil place to recuperate. Then again, Paula had now revealed herself as a woman capable of killing two people, so who the fuck knew? Anita was queasy with apprehension as she approached the front door, imagining terrible scenes inside that house, imagining Paula killing herself.

She rang the doorbell. No answer. She thumped on the door, but there was no sound from inside. They’d always had keys to each other’s homes and Anita was about to unlock the door herself when a voice behind her shouted, ‘Hey! Who’s that?’