There was a chill in the air. Kate had packed two winter parkas but she didn’t have time to fetch her suitcase. She wanted to get inside. She broke away from Fisher and hurried through the cold, then paused at the front door. She had brought the house key, but as far as she remembered it was the only one they kept in Caulfield. On a hunch, she reached beneath the front steps and found the plastic hide-a-key rock they kept for emergencies and visiting relatives. The rusty gold key was inside.

She unlocked the front door, disarmed the alarm, and slipped inside. She hovered on the threshold a moment and performed a quick scan of the entrance. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the low light. All the blinds in the house were drawn, just as they’d left it on their last day of summer. She looked down. A business card had been flicked beneath the door – Sanctuary Security: we’ll keep you safe!

‘John,’ she called.

There was no answer, so she went inside. Fisher followed her into the hall, then went upstairs to check the bedrooms.

‘John,’ he called. ‘Mate, are you here?’

Kate went into the kitchen and, almost on instinct, checked the fridge. It was a hulking old thing, busy with magnets, and John had promised to replace it as soon as it gave up and died, but so far it had kept on trucking. Inside were some bottles of water, a few tubs of hummus and a litre of milk. She checked the use-by date: three days left. Beside the fridge, inside the microwave, was a tub of untouched mac’n’cheese.

There was a brown shopping bag on the counter. Printed across one side were two interlocking Bs. Inside, she found Valerian capsules, chamomile tea, three different types of antihistamines, a litre bottle of Wild Turkey, water crackers, a five-pack of Mi Goreng instant noodles and a box of Frosties cereal.

There was a yellow Post-it Note stuck to the counter by the phone. On it was written, S. Hallston 2pm. She had no idea who S Hallston was and no idea what to make of the note, but the handwriting was undoubtedly John’s. There it was, irrefutable proof that John had been here. This confirmation made her want to throw up and put her fist through a wall, but not necessarily in that order.

She tiptoed through the downstairs hallway next, glancing through each door she passed, checking the rooms for any sign of a disturbance. Laundry, bathroom, toilet, guestroom. Each door had been slung wide open.