EVERYONE IS WELL ON THEIR WAY TO DRUNK WHEN OLI ARRIVES back at the office. TJ is sitting on top of Brent’s desk sans tie, looking extremely pleased with himself as he regales the small group with the ins and outs of his interview with O’Brien’s old neighbour, who revealed she frequently saw young prostitutes coming to the former premier’s house when his wife was away. Oli is offered a beer but turns it down, half-heartedly joining the chatter. She feels disconnected from her co-workers, skirting around the action and sticking to small talk. Once critical mass has been achieved, with more people drinking than working, someone suggests the pub, and everyone eagerly pulls on jackets and gathers their belongings. Oli politely declines a few invites and heads back to her desk.

Pia bounces over, colour in her cheeks, and hands her a sticky note. ‘I couldn’t find Julian McCrae’s mobile number, but this might be his landline. His wife listed it on a website she used to run selling pottery. It’s in East Melbourne, and I matched it to the ABN registered under her name. I rang earlier—the voicemail message doesn’t mention their names, but it sounds like an older woman. Worst-case scenario, you can go to the uni campus and track him down, though I get that probably isn’t your preference.’

‘No. I’d much rather harass him on the phone,’ Oli jokes.

‘Your specialty,’ Pia says, smiling.

‘Thanks, Pia,’ Oli says gratefully. ‘You’re a legend.’

‘No worries,’ she replies. ‘I’m off to be a drunk legend.’

‘Have fun.’

‘You’re not coming?’

‘No, I have a few things to tie up here.’

Pia shrugs; she knows Oli isn’t a big drinker. ‘See you tomorrow.’

Oli buys a packet of chips from the vending machine and munches away, going over her notes. Almost two hours later, Cooper walks in and gives her an update from the car crash scene in Warrandyte just as it starts to hit the TV reports. No one was inside the submerged Subaru, but divers are still searching the area, unwilling to rule out that there are bodies in the lake. Oli watches the dark footage of the Channel Nine reporter who gestures to the river behind her.

Cooper looks drawn, uncertain. ‘I heard one of the divers say that the doors were open. I’m not sure what that means.’

Oli offers him a chip, and he takes a small handful. The machinery in the office hums, the bank of TVs flickering as they jump from story to story. She can tell he’s rattled.

‘Jeepers, it was intense out there,’ says Cooper. ‘I kept thinking I didn’t know what I would do if they pulled a kid out of the water.’

‘You would have done your job,’ Oli says.

‘I guess.’

‘You would have,’ she insists. ‘Like yesterday. You just kicked into gear and kept going.’