Neighbours have confirmed that the three women hosted a party at the St Kilda property on Friday evening and claim to have overheard several heated arguments in the backyard earlier in the night. Friends of the housemates say that tensions had been brewing between them for weeks, with one argument leading to a vehicle being vandalised with paint. It is understood that Ms Stanley’s personal computer has been seized, along with other items from the house, including illegal drugs and a potential weapon.

Homicide detective Isabelle Yardley is leading the investigation and confirmed that she and her colleagues are in the process of interviewing everyone who was at the property on Friday evening, a group that allegedly includes a University of Melbourne professor. During a press conference on Saturday afternoon, DS Yardley said, ‘A young woman is dead after what should have been a fun night with her friends, and another is missing. If anyone has any information pertinent to the case, we urge them to come forward.’

Ms Stanley’s murder adds to the pressure that the Melbourne Homicide Squad is facing due to several unsolved cases, including the whereabouts of toddler Louise Carter, abducted from the bedroom of her Malvern home in June, and the murders of two prostitutes, brutally assaulted and dumped in St Kilda parkland two weeks ago.

CHAPTER ONE: TUESDAY, 8 SEPTEMBER 2015

CHAPTER ONE

TUESDAY, 8 SEPTEMBER 2015

THE SCREAM IS SHARP AND CLOSE. OLI IS DREAMING, A COMPLICATED narrative that is partly about a story she is working on, partly about hiding in her childhood bedroom. She can’t summon a word she needs for the article. She’s terrified she will just blurt it out when it comes to her but she doesn’t want to be found. Please don’t let him find me, she begs, clutching her sister as the scream reaches her ears and dismantles the dream. The scene twists and blurs into a messy whirlpool, then disappears. She blinks, confused, as her gaze settles on the dark bedroom. It’s hot, her singlet and underpants sticking to her skin, and her long hair is damp with sweat. Dean has left the heater on again. Her heart thrums, and her fingers go to her wrist, the old childhood routine so ingrained it’s become instinct. She counts to the beat of her pulse. One, two, three, four. It’s okay, just breathe. She presses her fingers more firmly into her flesh. Feels calmer. One, two, three, four.