Oli throws herself in the shower, washing her hair like it’s an Olympic sport. She drips water all over the carpet while she stands in the bedroom wrapped in a towel, trying to find something to wear. She pulls on a woollen dress and applies foundation and mascara at breakneck speed. She puts her old notebook in her satchel next to her current one and drags a brush through her wet hair as she runs down the stairs, then grabs her coat and a scarf from the hatstand in the hallway and sets the alarm. Yesterday was big, but today is going to be insane. The two stories will perform a public boxing match, fighting it out on the front pages for the next few days, their popularity dependent on the unpredictable nature of the people involved and the quality of the info that the police breadcrumb to the media.

Oli scrolls through her emails as the garage door cranks skyward. Media alerts are pouring in. The editorial meeting has been pushed back to nine because O’Brien’s lawyers are doing a presser at eight, and even though all of the media outlets are reporting it, the cops still haven’t provided any further information about the scene in Crystalbrook. Oli considers what the silence means. They might have found Evie Maslan already. Oli’s mind conjures a little girl lost in the bush, huddling against a tree overnight in the freezing weather—or dead, her small body buried in a shallow grave.

‘Fuck,’ Oli murmurs.

She drives to work in a daze. At the lights she loads the Melbourne Today website, glancing from the road to the screen while praying there are no cops around. Her piece is still the first article on the home page, but it’s been edited. She skims it quickly, noting the details that have changed. The reference to Nicole having a child is gone, some of the language softened. What the hell?

Furious, she clicks back to the home page, which has already been updated. A thumbnail of Julie O’Brien’s smiling face is now above an old picture of Evelyn Stanley. TRAGIC END TO DAY IN COURT, reads TJ’s headline. Julie is all elegance and good breeding, pearls at her throat, coral lipstick and straight white teeth. The lights change, and Oli accelerates, still glancing at the screen. Evelyn is thin in comparison to Julie, her light-brown hair limp at the roots, head tipped to the side, heavily made-up eyes relaxed in a sardonic smile. Oli’s seen the picture a thousand times; they used it back in 2005. The other shots they dug up didn’t work as well with the story, whereas the skimpy outfit and dark eyeliner gave the murdered young woman an edge, playing into the trope that all three housemates were caught up in something untoward.

Julie O’Brien and Evelyn Stanley: two strangers brought together by the news cycle.