She looks at the door. A laminated piece of paper spruiks a reminder to turn off the lights. Evelyn was always yelling at Alex and Nicole to switch the lights off; raging at them about waste and the environment, and the electricity bills. They rolled their eyes and laughed, flicking the lights on and off until eventually Evelyn laughed too, more exasperated than annoyed, declaring them a lost cause.

Alex sips more water, then crosses her arms and glances at the cheap-looking clock on the wall: almost 5 pm. She hasn’t slept in close to forty hours.

A faint tapping precedes the door swinging open. The detective is back, and there’s another person with her, an older man with silver hair. They take seats opposite Alex. Lace their fingers and lean forward, expressions solemn. The detective waits for Alex to make eye contact before saying, ‘Alex, this is Chief Inspector Bowman. We’re going to ask you some questions now, okay?’

Alex nods, swallowing furiously.

Bowman presses a button on a device sitting at the edge of the table; Alex hadn’t noticed it was there. ‘DS Yardley and CI Bowman interviewing Alexandra Michelle Riboni on Saturday, 3 October 2005 at 5.11 pm.’

Despite her masculine business suit, Detective Yardley reminds Alex of a ballerina. Her dark hair is pulled into a high bun, her thick brows perfectly symmetrical above her pale blue eyes. She blinks, slowly, deliberately. Alex recalls a porcelain doll she had as a little girl.

The chief inspector places a notebook on the table, plucks a pen from his pocket. His broad shoulders are almost double the width of Yardley’s narrow frame, and his shirt buttons strain across his chest.

There’s a rehearsed sense to their movements, and Alex assumes a plan has been hatched in the time since she was deposited in this room—a discussion about how to handle her, to get what they need.

‘Alex, we’re sorry about your friend.’ Yardley’s voice is soft, her body language friendly, but Alex feels anything but reassured. Something tells her Yardley will be quick to pounce at the first opportunity.

Alex doesn’t move, just stares at her hands.

Yardley continues. ‘I know it’s been a long day, Alex, and you’re upset, but we really need you to tell us what happened last night, so we can help you. Can you do that?’

‘No,’ she whispers, surprised to find her throat aches.

‘We need you to try, Alex. We need to understand what happened. Earlier, you said you and Nicole left the house after everyone went home. Is that right?’

Alex closes her eyes. She is back in the house on Paradise Street. In the kitchen. Cooking. Talking to Miles. Talking to the girls. Drinking. It had started out like so many other nights, but there had been no denying the nasty undercurrent. ‘Yes. We went for a walk.’

Yardley looks puzzled. ‘Were you meeting someone?’

‘No, ah, we were just walking.’