She smiled warmly. ‘Definitely,’ she said as she turned away.

‘Let me get that for you,’ Jake pushed open the door to Mason’s room with one hand, raising the magazine he was holding in the other to shepherd Max through. Mason lay in bed and Liam sat in the visitor’s chair. Both were silent.

‘Sorry, Mr O’Brien, didn’t realise you were here,’ Max said. ‘Would’ve gotten one for you too.’

‘About time,’ his father said.

Liam O’Brien waved a hand toward the steaming cups of black coffee. ‘That’s okay, I don’t drink it. Can’t stand the stuff, actually.’

Jake nonchalantly positioned himself between the shelving and the room’s occupants. He then replaced the magazine on the shelf and simultaneously retrieved his phone from its hiding place, slipping it into his jacket pocket. Criminals weren’t the only ones who practised sleight-of-hand. He then turned toward O’Brien and the Campbells and pulled the phone out, deftly switching off the recording function and turning the sound back on. It rang immediately.

‘That’s the trouble with people these days,’ Campbell said, blowing on his coffee, ‘always on those bloody portable phones.’

‘Murphy?’ Jake said.

‘Dad, they’re called mobile phones,’ Max said.

‘They’re portable, aren’t they?’ his father replied.

Jake put his finger in the ear that didn’t have a phone pressed to it.

‘… in St John of God who knows anything about the girls’ home,’ Murphy said. ‘Can’t find records on the girls either, but the boss said maybe they’ve all been archived somewhere on the mainland?’

Campbell stabbed a thumb toward his son. ‘This one’s on his day and night,’ he said to O’Brien.

‘I’ve explained to you,’ Max said. ‘Karen’s is unwell, I’m usually checking on her. And the rest of the time I’m taking care of business. Someone has to.’

Jake turned his back on them to concentrate. It didn’t make any sense. How could ten or more girls go through the home before Amelia and Charlotte without leaving a record? The church and the government should have extensive records of the home and the girls who had lived there.

‘Keep looking.’

‘I rang to let you know FSST called.’ The constable sounded grumpy. ‘They will send a team on Friday.’

Any biological evidence at the crime scene should be nicely degraded by then. ‘Better late than never,’ he said. ‘Thanks, Murphy.’

The phone line went dead.

He addressed the man lying in bed. ‘Mr Campbell, I need to ask what you remember from yesterday.’

The wrinkles on Campbell’s face shifted into a scowl. ‘I was in the kitchen making tea because this one’—he stabbed a thumb at his son again, causing the coffee in his other hand to slop over the side of the cup and on to the sheets on his lap—‘was on the phone instead of looking after me. Next thing I know, I wake up here. Max said you’re the one who found me?’

‘It appears that you either fell over backwards and hit your head on something—maybe the corner of the table—or someone hit you from behind.’ Jake had wondered about the freshly washed pan on the side of the kitchen sink. Would anyone be so casual as to smack Campbell on the back of the head with it then take the time to wash away any blood spatters while Mason lay on the floor nearby? ‘Can you think of someone who might have reason to attack you?’