He nods but seems unconvinced.

‘Do you think it’s worth you going back to Warrandyte tomorrow?’

He is clearly surprised to be asked. ‘Maybe. But I don’t get the feeling Nicole’s connected to the area. And it’s a lot of time in the car that I could be putting to better use.’

He looks to Oli for confirmation and she nods and then tells him about her conversation with Mitchell Stanley.

‘Evelyn was selling drugs?’ he says when she’s done.

‘I’d say that’s most likely.’

‘Do you think they were all dealing?’

Oli imagines the rhythm of the share house, the girls living on top of each other, borrowing each other’s clothes, doing each other’s make-up. ‘We know they were all taking drugs. It’s not much of a stretch.’

He doesn’t comment. His usual perkiness has definitely been tested by the events of the day.

‘Why don’t you sort out your photos?’ Oli says authoritatively. ‘I’ll write up some copy to go with them. If we get everything through by 8 pm, we’ll make the morning print edition.’

They work in silence. ‘This is the best one,’ Cooper says finally.

She looks at the image: the Subaru being winched out of the river, a group of emergency workers in high-vis gathered on the banks. She nods. ‘Send it to me.’

After filing the piece along with the photo, she stretches her hands above her head and breaks into a yawn. Wonders where the fuck Nicole Horrowitz is.

‘I’m wiped too,’ says Cooper, catching her yawn. ‘So, what now? Home time?’

She thinks about going home to Dean’s empty house, and the temptation to trawl through Isabelle’s things surges in her core. ‘Do you have plans?’ she blurts.

‘What, right now?’ Cooper looks startled. ‘Ah, no. Mum’s got dinner for me, she always cooks a curry on Wednesday, but I guess I could—’

Oli stands and pulls on her coat. ‘Let’s go to Paradise Street.’

They creep along St Kilda Road. Clouds clog the sky, hiding the stars and blocking the glow of the moon, which is trying to show off its full orb. Cooper’s bike is strapped to the back of the car, secured with a fluorescent-green cord. Oli can see the silhouette of the handlebars through the rear window.

‘Did you always want to be a journalist?’ asks Cooper. He’s texting someone, his messages filled with gifs, and Oli wonders if he has a partner. They must have the patience of a saint.

‘Pretty much. I always liked to write, but I didn’t get into it straight away. I went overseas for three years after high school. I didn’t go to uni until my early twenties.’

‘How come?’

‘I wanted to get away.’

‘From what?’ He looks at her with interest.

‘I just … It’s hard to explain.’