She could see Poppy hunched in a tight ball where she’d squashed herself against the skirting board. Cameron had curled his body around hers, as if trying to shield his sister.

‘Cameron,’ Paula called out.

Both children were very still.

Paula stood up, but her knees crumpled and she steadied herself against the arm of the sofa for a second so she wouldn’t fall. It was a wrench to leave Stacey’s side. Paula felt she was abandoning her in this moment, even if that was illogical. But she needed to go to the kids.

She hurried across the room to reach them, grabbing on to the corner of the dining table as a pivot point to swing herself around and down onto the floor beside them.

That close, it was clear both children were dead, shot in the back of the head. Paula leaned over—she knew this was futile—to slip her hand inside the rucked-up collar of Cameron’s soccer jersey and search for a pulse. With her other hand, she reached over him to hold on to Poppy’s leg—the strip of bare skin between her red shorts and the top of the thick football socks. The impulse was to hold Poppy so she wouldn’t look so defenceless. Her skin was still warm.

Paula heard the squeak of running shoes on the floorboards and Matt, Stacey’s husband, lurched into view. He glanced down at Stacey on the floor, then turned to stare at the kids. His eyes appeared solid black—pupils dilated—and his skin was moist and pale, like uncooked dough. He stood very still, feet planted solidly, but then Paula saw his hands were shaking as he lifted the gun.

He raised his eyes to look Paula full in the face—he must’ve known she was there from the moment she came in the front door. He held her gaze for one second, then swung the muzzle of the rifle under his chin and fired.

TWO

ANITA WASN’T SURPRISED TO SEE THAT THE STREET OUTSIDE Paula’s house was jammed with vehicles, cordoned off with police tape and unnaturally bright from the crime scene LEDs casting a harsh, astringent wash over everything.

She pulled her car to the kerb and texted Paula.

I’m here. They might not let me come inside. A xx