‘A little over twenty thousand acres. You could get very, very lost.’

  ‘You think that’s what happened to the missing woman? Madden?’

  A wedge-tailed eagle wheels through the grey sky.

  ‘Maybe,’ Kiara says, looking into the bushland. ‘But Ms Dubois managed to follow the trail all the way to the road, at night.’

  ‘So if Madden got lost …’

  ‘Then she probably did it on purpose,’ Kiara finishes. ‘The search party has cleared a forty-kilometre radius around the house. It’s been a week, so they’re probably—’ Kiara stops herself from saying, looking for a body. ‘—not going to find anything.’

  ‘Hard to survive out there.’ Elise’s eyes are fixed on the eagle.

  Kiara agrees. Even with a torch, a sleeping bag, a tent, a phone and a box of matches, the prospect would be daunting. Still, her ancestors managed just fine.

  ‘Shall we take this bedroom?’ Kiara asks. ‘It’s the biggest.’

  Elise is looking at the bed. ‘The first victim died at 9 p.m. last Saturday, and you found him in the bed—’

  ‘Not this bed,’ Kiara says quickly. ‘That was downstairs. The west bedroom, closest to the kitchen.’

  ‘But up here there was …?’ Elise makes a stabbing motion, like the famous scene in Psycho.

  ‘Right,’ Kiara says, feeling gloomier by the minute. This was a terrible idea. ‘How about the east bedroom, with the door to the deck? No dead bodies in there.’

  ‘Ooh, romantic,’ Elise says. She’s clearly joking, but Kiara is hurt.

  Downstairs, they unpack their things in silence. Kiara notices that the sheets in this room are rumpled—hopefully because they were changed inexpertly, rather than because they haven’t been changed at all. She surreptitiously smooths them out.

  She wants to ask Elise, Who’s blackmailing you? What do they know? How much money have you given them? The longer she holds the questions in, the more uncomfortable they become, like coughs.

  Elise finally speaks. ‘I’ve never been on a holiday like this.’

  ‘A murder house holiday?’

  ‘A house holiday. My family usually went camping.’

  ‘Mine too,’ Kiara says. ‘Always Dad’s idea. Mum wasn’t a fan. She said if she’d wanted to bathe in a river, she would have stayed in Haiphong.’

  ‘There’s a lot to be said for plumbing,’ Elise agrees. She meets Kiara’s gaze.

  It strikes Kiara that Elise doesn’t often do this. She’s willing to make eye contact with people she doesn’t like—she’ll shout at them, get right up in their faces—but with her friends and family, she gets uncomfortable.

  ‘Anyway, thank you,’ Elise says.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For taking me on my first house holiday.’

  Kiara forces a smile. ‘You’re welcome.’ But it’s hard to quiet the storm in her gut.

  They get the fire going, though it doesn’t warm the house much. Remembering what the agent said about heating costs, Kiara raps her knuckles on the walls. They sound hollow—no insulation. If the fire dies, the heat will leak out soon after.

  There was supposed to be food in the fridge, but there isn’t. Luckily, Kiara brought bread, cheese, ham and relish, thinking they’d have a picnic lunch tomorrow. She still doesn’t like the faint ammonia smell in the kitchen, so she assembles the sandwiches at the dining table.

  ‘Who decided that sandwiches had to be a lunch food?’ she asks as she sits down.

  ‘The rules are oddly strict.’ Elise takes one of the triangular slices. ‘Cereal for breakfast, sandwiches for lunch, pasta for dinner. If you mess with the order, people think you’re a maniac.’

  ‘Mum sometimes reheated a stir-fry for our breakfast. I loved it. But when I started having sleepovers with friends, they thought it was weird, and I got embarrassed. After that I refused.’ Kiara takes a bite. She hasn’t thought about this for twenty years. She can see it from Mum’s perspective now, and she feels a prickle of guilt.

  ‘I like your bangles,’ Elise says.

  Kiara rattles them. ‘Thanks. I couldn’t find my ring, so I brought these instead—you haven’t seen it, have you?’

  Elise already seems distracted again. ‘Seen what?’

  ‘My mum’s ring,’ Kiara says impatiently. ‘The one with the opal.’

  Elise lowers her gaze. ‘No, sorry.’

  Silence falls. This was what Kiara wanted—just the two of them, no distractions. Why does it feel like she’s wading through treacle?

  ‘I’m sorry about the sandwiches,’ Kiara says. ‘I tried to buy you a hamper.’

  Elise looks surprised. ‘You did?’

  ‘Yeah. I ordered figs, and goat’s cheese, and fancy olives. There was supposed to be food in the fridge, too. But the real estate agent’s cleaner must have forgotten to leave it for us.’

  ‘You did well to pull this together, then.’ Elise gestures at the sandwiches. ‘Maybe the hamper will turn up tomorrow.’

  Kiara sighs. ‘I wouldn’t count on it. Seems to be a habit with this agent—according to the suspects, the fridge was supposed to be fully stocked when they rented the place, but it was empty then, too. Cole, the gym owner, had to drive back into town for groceries on the first day.’

  Elise stares at her.

  ‘What?’ Kiara asks.

  ‘Nothing,’ Elise says, but her eyes are wide. ‘Anyway, what are we going to do tomorrow?’

  ‘I’ve been looking at a map of the walking trails in the area,’ Kiara says, ‘but given the weather …’

  Elise dips a finger into the jar of relish.

  Kiara laughs. ‘What are you doing?’

  Elise’s face is grim. She uses the relish to trace a message on the tabletop.

  ‘Well, whatever we do, I’m sure it will be nice,’ Elise says, her voice loud but a little shaky.

  She’s written: Are we alone?

  A chill creeps from Kiara’s tailbone to the top of her head. She thinks of the missing food, and the rumpled sheets in the downstairs bedroom.

  They both look at the ceiling when they hear a distinct thump.

  LAST SATURDAY

  OSCAR

  ‘Morning,’ Cole said.

  Oscar flinched guiltily. ‘Just waiting for the shower,’ he said, pointing a thumb at the door of the downstairs bathroom.

  The truth was, he’d been listening to the shower because he knew Felicity was inside. He could hear the water drizzling off her fingertips and the faint slapping of her bare feet.

  ‘How’d you sleep?’ Cole jogged on the spot, as though his body would melt if given even a second of rest.

  ‘Like a baby,’ Oscar said, which was true. In his experience, babies didn’t sleep at all, and he’d been awake most of the night, knowing Felicity was in the other downstairs bedroom. He’d imagined her sneaking in at midnight. Slipping into bed with him while Isla snored, oblivious. Climbing atop him and leaning down for a kiss, her red hair a curtain on either side of his head.

  ‘You want a coffee?’ Cole asked.

  ‘Sounds good,’ Oscar said.

  ‘White with one?’

  ‘That’s it.’

  As Cole was turning away, Oscar said quietly, ‘You ready for tonight?’

  Cole just grunted, not meeting Oscar’s eye. Oscar told himself that was a yes, in the language of masculine fitness junkies.

  Soon after, the bathroom door opened. Oscar’s smile froze as he found himself face to face—well, face to chest—with Dom, who was naked except for a towel around his waist. He smiled, revealing the slight gap between his front teeth. ‘Oscar. How’d you pull up this morning?’

  ‘Not bad.’ Oscar leaned sideways, checking that Felicity wasn’t also in the bathroom. ‘You?’

  ‘I’m okay. That fourth drink might have been a mistake, though.’

  ‘Really? I’d have thought a big fella like you could handle it—though you are light-footed.’

  ‘Light-footed?’ Dom’s eyes seemed to radiate superiority and disgust, as though Oscar was naked in front of him, not the other way around.

  ‘Graceful,’ Oscar said. ‘You don’t sound as big as you are, walking around.’

  ‘You’re a funny man, Oscar.’ Dom squeezed past, wafting aftershave and steaming skin, and walked to his room, his feet making exaggerated thumps.

  ‘Learned it from your wife,’ Oscar muttered under his breath. He told himself he’d imagined the menace in Dom’s voice. Dom didn’t know anything. Did he?

  When Oscar got to the dining room, the breakfast table was heaped with toast, eggs, spinach, bacon and mushrooms. Isla was already there, dark glasses on, a cup of tea in one hand. Cole had put Oscar’s coffee next to her. Without looking at her, Oscar moved the coffee and sat next to Clementine. ‘Do you and Cole eat like this all the time?’ he asked her, gesturing at the feast on the table.

  She nibbled at a mushroom. ‘I’m usually a bit more careful. But yeah, he spoils me.’

  Oscar wondered what ‘careful’ meant for her, if mushrooms on dry toast were risky.

  ‘I used to hate cooking,’ Cole called from the kitchen, where he was loading hash browns onto paper towels. ‘I used to fantasise about having enough money that I’d never need to do it again. But now it’s my favourite part of the day.’

  ‘What changed?’ Isla spooned spinach and eggs onto her toast, neglecting the bacon. She’d recently become vegetarian as part of her ongoing campaign to make Oscar’s life difficult.

  ‘We started getting one of those meal delivery services,’ Clementine said. ‘You know, where they send you the recipes and a box of all the ingredients each week?’

  ‘Ooh, maybe I should get Oscar on to that,’ said Isla.

  Oscar said nothing, stunned by how easily she could turn any conversation into an opportunity to belittle him.

  Felicity walked into the dining area, still towelling off her beautiful red hair. ‘Morning, all!’

  A chorus of grunts and mumbles.

  ‘Yikes,’ she said. ‘We’ve already reached that stage of the holiday, have we?’

  Clementine laughed. ‘Yup. Yesterday we regressed to high school, this morning we’ve made it all the way back to Neanderthal.’

  Isla’s face lit up. ‘Hey, I just read something interesting about Neanderthals.’

  ‘Here we go.’ Oscar sighed, his exhausted brain letting part of his inner monologue escape.

  On a sitcom, everyone would have ignored it; in real life, an appalled silence fell. Everyone became suddenly fascinated by their food, avoiding eye contact with one another.

  Clementine was the first to speak. ‘What did you read, Isla?’

  ‘Never mind. It’s not really a suitable story for mealtimes.’ Isla stood up, half her breakfast still on her plate.

  ‘I have a strong stomach,’ Clementine offered, but Isla was gone.

  Oscar could feel everyone glaring at him. He stared down into the immaculate latte Cole had made, his face reddening.

  ‘So,’ Felicity said finally, ‘anyone up for a bushwalk?’

  FELICITY

  Truth be told, Felicity wasn’t much of a bushwalker. She got enthusiastic about it every couple of years, but her interest usually dried up once she’d bought new hiking shoes, quick-dry pants and a moisture-wicking shirt. Dom had said she was more of a bush shopper.

  But Felicity wanted everyone to be laughing, flirting, having fun, getting along. Cole clearly hadn’t told Clementine about his failing gym or the money from Dom, who seemed to be watching Oscar with great suspicion. Oscar and Isla were basically at each other’s throats—could Isla have found out about the kiss? No, because she didn’t seem angry at Felicity. Either way, the house was full of tension. The obvious solution was to get everyone out of the house.

  It hadn’t quite worked. Isla had stayed behind to read a book, and Cole had said he wanted to start prepping lunch; the guy sure liked cooking. But at least Dom, Clementine and Oscar were following Felicity down the hill.

  She’d pretended to choose the trail at random. Only Clementine seemed suspicious.

  Twigs cracked and leaves crunched beneath their boots. The terrain was difficult. The trail was narrow and winding, the sort used by animals rather than humans. But occasionally she saw tyre tracks in the dirt, as though mountain bikers had come this way. She stamped because she’d heard that heavy footfalls would alert snakes up ahead and make them retreat; then again, maybe the reptiles were hibernating and the stomping would wake them up.

  The winter sun filtered through the trees, igniting flecks in the air that could have been snow. After an hour of walking, the cold was burning the back of Felicity’s throat, even as sweat poured from her armpits. Occasionally the trail turned a bend and a gap between the trees exposed the spectacular mountain range lining the horizon like a giant’s molars.

  Clementine was right behind her. ‘I know what you’re doing,’ she said.

  ‘How can you talk?’ Felicity wheezed. ‘I can hardly breathe.’

  ‘We’re just walking,’ Clementine said, not sounding even slightly puffed.

  ‘There’s walking,’ Felicity gasped, ‘and there’s walking.’

  For about a year, she’d been telling herself that stand-up was all the exercise she needed—she’d worn a Fitbit onstage once, and it had tracked an impressive number of steps over the course of her set. But she now realised the difference between pacing back and forth across a flat surface and this: marching downhill on rocks and lumpy dirt. Coming back up would be even tougher.

  ‘You’re trying to work out if I was telling the truth about the light,’ Clementine said.

  Felicity feigned confusion. ‘What light?’

  ‘The light I spotted out the window last night.’

  ‘Oh. The light that very conveniently changed the topic away from your sexual history?’

  ‘The light I saw coming from exactly this direction.’

  Felicity looked around as though that hadn’t occurred to her. ‘Really? Are you sure? Because I don’t see anything that would create a light around here. The highway isn’t visible, there are no other buildings, there’s no—’

  ‘You’ve made your point,’ Clementine said. ‘Maybe, maybe I imagined it. But that’s not the same thing as making it up.’

  ‘You ladies okay down there?’ Dom’s voice was distant. He and Oscar had fallen behind.

  Unease burbled in Felicity’s gut—she didn’t like the two of them being alone together.

  ‘Fine!’ she and Clementine called in unison.

  ‘Listen.’ Clementine lowered her voice. ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said.’

  ‘I say a lot of things,’ Felicity said, but hope fluttered in her chest.

  ‘About borrowing.’

  ‘Oh, that.’ She shrugged, as though she offered to lend out her husband all the time.

  ‘Are you sure Dom would be comfortable with it?’

  ‘It was his idea.’

  Clementine looked startled. ‘Really?’

  ‘We talk about you quite a lot. Sometimes he asks me to wear a blonde wig.’

  ‘You’re joking.’ Clementine blushed furiously.

  ‘I wish.’ Felicity wasn’t joking so much as lying—the line was always fuzzy. She knew Dom was attracted to other women, but he’d never expressed interest in Clementine specifically. If Felicity admitted that, she thought Clementine would be reluctant to participate in tonight’s entertainment.

  Before Clementine could respond, they rounded a corner and found themselves facing a pile of garbage.

  Felicity’s hand flew to her nose. ‘Urgh, gross.’

  The semi-transparent plastic bags were stacked in a pyramid, like someone was building a temple to wastefulness. There had to be fifty bags or more. Some were stuffed with food scraps, while others held old clothes and blankets. A broken folding chair and a battered bike lay nearby, surrounded by apple cores, soiled wet wipes and crumpled wrappers.

  ‘So much for virgin wilderness,’ Felicity said.

  ‘Why here?’ Clementine looked around. ‘It’s a crazy place to dump anything.’

  ‘Looks like garbage from the house.’ Felicity stooped to examine an empty packet of sliced ham. The use-by date was still days away.

  ‘You think the cleaner left it here?’ Clementine wondered.

  ‘Right. Just out of sight from the back deck.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous. Why wouldn’t they drive it back down the hill when they left?’

  ‘The broken bike wouldn’t fit in the car?’ Felicity guessed. ‘Or they were saving money. People have to pay to dump stuff at the tip. Cheaper to leave it up here.’

  ‘But they must have known someone would find it. Bushwalkers would rent this house all the time.’

  ‘The odds of them taking this particular trail are low.’ Felicity gave Clementine some side-eye. ‘Unless they spot mysterious lights in the dark.’

  Oscar and Dom caught up. ‘What the hell?’ Dom said, looking at the garbage.

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ve already solved the case,’ Felicity said. ‘It was the cleaner, on the mountainside, with the garbage bags.’

  Oscar stared at the pile. ‘You think the cleaner just chucked all this here?’

  ‘Seems so,’ Clementine said.

  Dom hugged Felicity, as though she might be traumatised by seeing garbage. ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘I’ll live,’ Felicity said.

  ‘You know I don’t like giving anything less than a five-star review …’

  She squeezed him back. ‘You can do it, baby. I believe in you.’

  Oscar looked uncomfortable, and Felicity remembered he worked for the real estate agency. ‘Chantelle’s never done this before,’ he said.

  ‘That you know about.’ Dom raised an eyebrow. ‘There could be secret garbage piles hidden near all your properties.’

  Oscar’s brow furrowed. He reached for his phone, then paused, probably remembering there was no reception.

  ‘Shall we keep going?’ Clementine asked.

  ‘Nah,’ Felicity said. ‘All this sleuthing has made me hungry. Let’s head back. By now your husband has probably plucked a pheasant for lunch and roasted it in that giant oven.’