As I pulled up outside the chemist, I saw the skateboard kid—the one who’d graffitied Frank Forester’s office wall—coming through the door, waving over his shoulder.

‘Antigone!’ Crystal said as I entered.

‘Hey, Crystal.’

‘Are you okay? Is Waffles okay?’

I leaned on the counter. ‘We’re okay. How about you?’

Crystal grinned. ‘I’m good. Are you going to give me a ride home again?’

‘Sure.’

Coming out from the back, Norma greeted me like an old friend. As Crystal disappeared to get her things, I remembered the skater boy who’d just left.

‘That kid on the skateboard who was just in here—’

‘Dawn’s little brother,’ said Norma brightly. ‘He visits a lot. Not sure why, but he’s very protective of his big sister.’

‘Dawn …’ I mused aloud. ‘What’s her surname? I don’t think we were ever properly introduced.’

‘Denholm,’ said Norma.

Dawn Denholm. DD. DeeDee. Synapses fired in my brain and, suddenly, I had a thought. Working at the chemist, Dawn would have been aware of Jack’s prescriptions, just like Norma had been. If Dawn was a victim and developed any of the same kinds of symptoms, she might suspect who the culprit was. It’s not like there would be many prescriptions for the treatment of syphilis in a small town. I’d caught a glimpse of her at the town meeting the night I’d stood on the stage and addressed the crowd. Remembered the conversation I’d had with her about Merv’s epilepsy medications.

Could she have—

‘Are you ready to go?’ Crystal bounced out with her bag and coat.

My thoughts snapped back to the conversation I had to have in the car with Crystal on the drive home. She was silent as I told her the story of her mum and her dad and the insurance policy that never was and the man who decided Shayna and Brett weren’t worth $20,000, who took a gun to their farm on a cold dark night as an easy way out of the mess he’d created.

That night, curled up in Nan’s armchair, Waffles at my feet, I picked up the phone and called Daniel. He sounded happy to hear from me, but I quickly steered any conversation away from us and on to work. Gave him an update on Tippet and preparing the trial brief for the sexual assault cases. So far, we had identified seven women from the hundreds of photos we’d found at the garage. We had utilised the police victim identification team, who had separated the photos and identified fifty-two different women among the photos we had collected. Our next challenge was to find out who they were.

Waffles shifted and rested his head on my foot. He looked up at me with his big brown eyes.

‘So, will you unblock my number?’ Daniel’s voice purred over the phone.

‘Maybe,’ I said.