‘You okay, kiddo?’ Her father appears, his face ruddy as he swats flies away. ‘Want me to carry you back to the house? Maybe your mum will be awake by now.’

‘No.’ Oli quickly gets to her feet, the blisters on her soft skin stinging as she rushes past her father to catch up with Lily, praying he won’t pick her up.

Behind her, Cooper’s panting breaths drive the memory away, leaving her feeling empty. Ravenous. Her stomach rolls.

She pushes past a sapling, and it slingshots back, hitting Cooper in the face. ‘Ow!’

‘Sorry.’

They’ve reached a fence corner. There’s a narrow gap between the post and another fence corner, which Oli assumes marks the border of the next property. A thin dirt path cuts into the ground between them.

‘He must have been running along here,’ she says. ‘Unless there’s a path on the other side as well.’

A bird lets out a low call that seems to soak into the ground before whipping back to the sky. They walk down the narrow corridor, the smell of eucalyptus thick in the air, trees stretching toward the clouds. It’s pretty, but for the first time today Oli’s glad of Cooper’s company. The thought of being out here alone is unsettling.

He mirrors her thoughts. ‘I reckon it could get pretty creepy out here.’

‘I’m not much of a nature fan,’ she admits. ‘With the exception of indoor plants.’

‘I have a virtual pet. Two, actually.’

She focuses on picking up scraps of information, little details that will allow her to describe the place where Nicole Horrowitz chose to die. Then, still scanning the scene, Oli comes to an abrupt halt. Through the trees she spies the distinctive blue-and-white chequered police tape and, beyond that, a cluster of people. Two cops in uniform and two male detectives in suits and winter coats stand a little further along.

‘Bowman.’ Cooper points to the right of the group, where Gregory Bowman’s white hair glows through the trees.

Oli’s pulse picks up again. She ducks down and creeps further along the fence.

‘Where are you going?’ Cooper whispers.

She doesn’t reply but keeps moving parallel to Bowman. He’s homing in on something. She starts to jog, still bent at the middle. Not far from Bowman there’s a blur of white: forensic technicians clad in body suits. She trips on a tree root and stumbles against the flimsy wire fence.

Bowman has stopped. Two of the techs are on their hands and knees a few metres from him, crouched over a synthetic sheet, but his face is fixed skyward. Oli knows what she is about to see.

She closes her eyes. Opens them. Allows her gaze to scan up.

A woman hangs in midair. Rope loops around her neck and over the lowest branch of a giant gum. The cord twists slightly in the wind and makes a faint creak.