A different journalist speaks up. ‘So you admit there are startling similarities between the two abductions. Is the investigation focussing on people with a connection to Balmoral Ladies College?’

The detective doesn’t take the bait. ‘We’re conducting a methodical and thorough investigation, as we always do. We’ll be able to bring you more information in the next few days.’

I think back to my conversation earlier with strange, intense Petra. ‘The police don’t tell the public all of the details, did you know that, Mum? They keep the important stuff to themselves.’

‘Yeah, that’s classic methodology, hon. The police use the unreleased information to eliminate suspects.’

I want to ask her how that can be fair—what if there’s information that could keep more girls safe, if only they knew it? But I swallow the question, because the last thing I want to be, or look to be, is scared.

‘I’ve got a bad feeling,’ Mum admits. ‘It reminds me of those Bayer kids. Before you were born. They got taken from their beach house. Never seen again. Vanished into thin air.’

They’re showing Yin’s photo again on the TV screen while the newsreader talks.

‘She doesn’t look like that now, you know,’ I tell Mum. ‘That photo is from Junior School, grade six or something. Why would they use an old photo?’

‘I don’t know…maybe it was the first one they could find? Her parents probably weren’t thinking straight.’

‘But if a witness sees her in the back of a car, or in a window, they might not recognise her.’

‘Maybe the public will be more sympathetic if she looks young and cute. If she looks older or closer to being a woman, then it’s too easy to say: oh, she was talking to guys online. Or dating older men, or going out and being a bad girl. You know…’

‘That shouldn’t matter.’

‘It shouldn’t, but—hon, it’s bleak, but she’s Chinese and already some people might not care as much. The more the public relates to a victim the better. And some people in our community don’t get as much attention when they go missing, from the media or the public or the police. If you’re homeless, or a sex worker, then you can forget about…’

My face must paint a picture, because Mum trails off. The world never ceases to surprise me with how messed up it is.

Mum crawls closer to put her arm around me. ‘I shouldn’t say things like that to you. I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay.’ I rest my head against hers and sigh. ‘You can’t protect me from the bullshit, Mum. I’m gonna find out anyway.’

That makes her laugh a little. She drapes the mended tights over my legs.

‘I should warn you, your dad wants you to transfer back to Morrison. He always overreacts.’