‘They believe I saw him. And I’ll stand by what I said. It’s the timing of it they’re saying I must be mistaken about. Too many other people saw him at your place. Sit down, Phoebe.’

‘There has to be some way we can fight this.’

‘We’ll find a way,’ Jack said grimly. ‘Memories are fallible. Some of those other witnesses must have been mistaken about when they think they saw him. We don’t have to give up yet.’

‘Is it certain the fossicker’s hut was the ignition point?’ I persevered.

‘As certain as it can be, Phoebe. I led the investigation but there was no other place I could reasonably suggest. I had other investigators with me and they knew where all the clues pointed.’

I tasted the coffee, willing myself to slow down, to avoid losing control. ‘Are there other possible suspects?’

Jack frowned, looking frustrated. ‘I can’t tell you that. It’s confidential.’

I stared at him. Something deep in our relationship shifted slightly. ‘Eventually, the prosecution will tell us everything in their brief. I was married to a lawyer, remember? You might as well tell me now.’

‘I can’t do that, Phoebe.’

I ran my fingers through my hair and stared around the room. ‘I’m not asking you to do anything. Just talk to me.’ The maps, a closed laptop computer, a filing cabinet. Jack had files. Not in that cabinet, but certainly on that laptop. I had to see them.

I had to be careful. If I pushed Jack away, I’d lose access to his information. Our relationship continued to shift – I had a reason for pursuing Jack now, beyond affection or attraction. My glance moved from his files to my hands, ashamed. But I had to save Caleb. And Jack had to help me.

Meanwhile, he was thoughtful. ‘I’ll tell you everything I can, Phoebe. First, I have to prepare for another press conference.’

A press conference. There did exist people whose questions were answered.

I smiled. Jack had given me more than he knew. He’d given me ideas. I would find a way to access his files. I already knew how to attend the press conference. I had Sadie Riley’s press identification in my collection. I’d put on a blazer and skirt and become Sadie for the evening. It wasn’t crazy. It was necessary.

Sadie herself wouldn’t be here – she was perched at the end of my drive waiting for Caleb to come out. I entered the bushfire taskforce media centre in a crowd of reporters and briefly flashed the stolen ID. The room buzzed with activity and rumours. A wide white table stood on a low podium at the front. Television cameras and microphones mushroomed around it. Many seats were already occupied. I pushed my way along a row at the back of the room.