Through broken sobs she said she’d woken early, discovered her son missing from the family tent and assumed he was in the ground’s grey besser block building of toilet facilities. When he hadn’t appeared after ten minutes she began looking for him. Calling frantically, she’d roused the entire campground—Jamie had apparently vanished without a trace.

‘Did you see anyone else when you were looking for Jamie? Anyone out of their tent or caravan?’

She shook her head.

‘What was Jamie wearing? Had he changed into day clothes?’

‘His tracksuit and sneakers aren’t in the tent.’

‘What colour are they?’

‘The tracksuit’s silver. The runners are orange.’

‘Were they his only shoes?’

‘He has crocs to wear to the toilet block,’ said James Taylor, ‘but he’s obsessed with those bloody sneakers. Never takes them off.’

‘And how long have you been camping here?’

‘’Bout a week.’

‘While you’ve been staying here, has Jamie gone off on his own at any point?’

‘Yes! That’s what I tried to tell them on the phone,’ Diane Taylor cried. ‘He’s really into Little Athletics and he goes off looking for places to practice running all the time.’

‘Has he been practicing here?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where?’

The grieving mother’s forehead crinkled. ‘The footy oval in town and some of the tracks round here that go into the bush.’

‘Any one in particular?’

‘He likes to explore a new place each time.’

As Jake painstakingly extracted the information he needed to set up the parameters of the search for Jamie, both parents became increasingly agitated.

‘Why are you asking all of this?’ Mrs Taylor wailed.

‘Now, now. Try to stay calm,’ said Ms Kelly.

Jake noticed the husband’s jaw clench. ‘Do you have that photo of Jamie?’ he asked.

The man’s expression darkened further. His wife huffed, pulled a phone out of her tracksuit-pants pocket and showed them a photo of a gleeful, dark-haired boy with his head thrown back in laughter.

‘Thank you.’ Jake reached for the phone. ‘I’ll send this to my own phone to show to the search party.’

‘Don’t worry, Mr and Mrs Taylor, we’ll find Jamie,’ said Ms Kelly.

Jake glanced warningly at the counsellor. ‘We’ll do everything we can,’ he said. ‘I’ll ask you both to stay with Ms Kelly while we organise the search.’

Wondering at the unwise promise the counsellor had offered the Taylors, Jake returned to Murphy and the milling crowd of volunteers to organise a systematic search of the nearby area. Personnel would check every tent, caravan and car in the campground for signs of Jamie, and log the details of those present. Teams of two would search the shoulders of the dirt road outside the campground in both directions, and into the surrounding bush and paddocks in a grid pattern, paying particular attention to any tracks the boy may have run along.

‘Meet back here in an hour. You all have Jamie Taylor’s photograph and details of his clothing. Call me immediately if you find anything.’

The volunteers proved to be well-trained. They dispersed rapidly to their assignments and began calling Jamie’s name, their summons echoing across the campground as they waded into the mist and trees.