‘Mr Mallory physically attacked his wife. She died from her injuries.’ The cop sits back in her chair, looks at them both. ‘We found blood at the beach cabin in Marlo. The floorboards had been covered over but the stains were still visible underneath. We ran some DNA checks which confirmed it was Mrs Mallory’s blood.’

‘Jesus.’ Joe seals his mouth with his hand.

‘We’re searching through the records in Victoria for her body,’ she continues. ‘But we’re not holding out much hope.’

‘Why not?’ Isla says. ‘Can’t Steve tell you what he did with her?’

‘He took her body down to the ocean. The currents are dangerous on that stretch of beach. A body disposed of in those waters might not come back to shore.’

Isla waits next to the kettle as it boils. She thinks of Mandy’s blood in the boards of an old beach cabin, covered over and undiscovered. Her body lost at sea. The huge silence that allowed her to disappear.

‘Nobody looked for her,’ Isla says. ‘Not for thirty years.’

Sergeant Dent gives a sympathetic smile. ‘It does seem extraordinary.’

‘It does.’ Isla smiles back at her. ‘How long has your boss known about it?’

‘I don’t know.’ She doesn’t blink. ‘I tried to check the records, for the bank withdrawal Steve Mallory referred to in his statement. It turns out the bank doesn’t keep records going back that far.’

Isla lets this sink in. ‘What does that mean?’

‘It means that evidence was fabricated.’ She looks away, shifts in her chair. ‘Inspector Perry’s taken some leave. He’s thinking about early retirement.’

Isla laughs. There is an uncomfortable pause. Joe goes to the door and stands facing the yard, his thumbs in his pockets. He swears quietly. The glass rattles in its frame.

‘Can I ask you both a question regarding Mrs Mallory?’ Sergeant Dent takes a notebook from her pocket. ‘It’s just a small thing. It might not be important.’

Joe turns around. ‘Go ahead.’

‘Mrs Mallory’s medical records suggest she had no children. Is that correct, to your knowledge?’

He nods. ‘She never had kids.’

‘You’re certain?’

‘Absolutely.’

‘That’s what we thought.’ She makes a note. ‘Thank you.’

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Mr Mallory said something which didn’t quite make sense. He was very distressed. It’s probably not important.’

Isla pours water into the percolator. ‘What did Steve say?’

‘He said they had a child.’

‘Did he?’ Joe stands straighter. ‘What else did he say about that?’

Sergeant Dent puts her notebook into her pocket. ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you any more.’

‘I think you can,’ Joe says.

‘It’s a sensitive matter, Mr Green.’

‘Why’s it sensitive?’

‘I can’t—’

‘Did something happen to the child?’

‘I really can’t say.’

‘Was it a boy?’

She eyes Joe speculatively. ‘How did you know that?’

‘I reported it, thirty years ago,’ Joe says. ‘I called the police and told them Steve Mallory took a child with him down to Marlo. An Aboriginal boy.’

The cop recoils. She tucks her hair severely behind both ears.