Cooper nods. ‘It’s hard not to see it as a flashing arrow pointing to a clue though, huh?’

Oli smiles. ‘Yep.’ Her smile turns to a frown when she remembers what Bowman said. ‘We also need to consider that Isabelle wasn’t entirely above board.’

Cooper looks shocked. ‘You think she was corrupt?’

‘Not necessarily corrupt. But she might have been influenced or pressured by the wrong people. We just don’t have context is all I mean.’

They fall into silence. Oli can tell Cooper is worried that he might be reading the musings of a dirty cop.

There are bank account balances and phone numbers. Isabelle made notes about a website called stkildasitters.com.au, which Oli types into her phone. All she gets is an error message. Next she tries the archive site but has no luck there either.

‘I know some guys who might be able to trace the old site,’ Cooper murmurs.

Two pages later, Isabelle has written: BS jobs. Link between quitting other jobs and increase in their spending. New bed (N) and new computer (A). Nothing in bank accounts + still collecting gov money. McCrae?

Oli sits up straight, neurons firing. These scrawled notes are only half the story—she’d give anything to know what Isabelle was thinking.

‘How long was this before she died?’ Cooper asks.

‘Six years.’

‘God, I remember some of these other cases. It’s weird to think we know what ended up happening in a few of them, but she never did.’

Oli feels a stab of guilt at sharing this private part of Isabelle. She would understand—she would trust Cooper. And she would want the truth to come out. The thought arrives from nowhere, but somehow Oli knows it’s true.

She refocuses and reads a page of notes about a web platform and file transfers. Then there’s a list of names she doesn’t recognise relating to the suspicious death of a man in St Albans.

Her eyelids start to droop. She needs a coffee. She shifts position and has more tea. She pulls out the 2011 diary and opens it.

‘Holy shit!’ exclaims Cooper, a few moments later. He jabs at the page and grabs her forearm. ‘There’s a note here, look. ES babysat in Malvern area. LC? Holy shit, do you think she means Louise Carter?’

Oli’s heart starts hammering as she looks to where he’s pointing, but her mind is fixed on what she just read: something she missed when she read this page last night, battling to keep her eyes open, in dark-blue ink on the Friday afternoon after Isabelle died are the words 1 pm, Noel & Young Lawyers.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: SUNDAY, 13 SEPTEMBER 2015

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

SUNDAY, 13 SEPTEMBER 2015