He walks by, slow enough to make sure I feel his eyes run over every part of me. ‘Sure thing, Davis. Whatever you say.’

  When they’re gone, I approach the counter where Britt is looking at me in a way I’ve never seen before.

  ‘Wow, you actually had my back,’ she says. ‘Thanks.’

  Her makeup isn’t quite as heavy, and her hair is pulled back into a neat ponytail.

  ‘Of course,’ I tell her. ‘I always would. I hope you know that.’

  She shrugs and looks away. I don’t push it any further. ‘Anyway, I’m going to take a walk and try to clear my head.’

  ‘In the park?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘Cool, you got water? Snacks?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Water and snacks. Do you have enough?’

  I nod and stare absently around the shop. ‘I think so.’

  She comes out from behind the counter, and I stay silent as she brushes past me, collecting packets of chips, energy bars, and bottles of water from the fridge. ‘Here, take these.’

  ‘Britt…’

  ‘Just take them.’

  ‘Well, here,’ I dig around in my pocket for money.

  ‘I don’t want your money.’

  ‘But you’ll get into trouble.’ I glance up at the security camera above the counter. ‘Your boss will know.’

  She follows my line of sight up to the camera. ‘That thing hasn’t worked in years,’ she tells me. ‘Anyway, like I give a shit.’

  I hold her gaze and smile. ‘Well, thank you.’

  ‘Enjoy,’ she says, turning her back and walking back to the counter. ‘See you tonight.’

  OUT in the park, I take in the cool, crisp air and feel myself start to relax. The smell of eucalyptus mixed with damp earth is a scent so undeniably Wildling that even with everything going on, it feels like I can breathe out here. Especially now that Britt is coming around. Maybe there’s hope for us yet.

  The track twists and turns. Before long, my feet crunch against shallow patches of snow, stirring up the rich smell of decaying leaves. There are so many layers to Britt, and she’s so smart. It’s always been hard to decipher her moods and Machiavellian tactics to get attention. Last night was a perfect example of her ability to be manipulative, but I think she’s on the right track about Lilly being picked up in the Willow’s Crossing truck.

  A loud wolf whistle pierces the air, and I clutch at my chest in fright. Up on a branch, a currawong tilts its head and stares down at me, its bright yellow eyes stark against black plumage.

  ‘You scared me,’ I tell it, with a shake of my head. ‘Quiet.’

  I’ve missed the sounds of the national park. Birds like the currawong with its unique whistling, the raucous call of kookaburras, and the delicate choral of magpies. When we were young, Dad would bring Britt and me out on walking safaris in search of elusive yellow-tailed black cockatoos. They would often fly in groups of three, their haunting high-pitched cry reaching our ears before they came into view. An Australian history teacher, Dad would explain how some First Nations mobs told Dreamtime stories about a white cockatoo that flew too low over a bushfire causing its plumage to turn black. He’d say that for him, the story felt like a reminder of how the experiences we have in life can change us completely. That if an event is significant enough, sometimes we can come out the other side looking almost unrecognisable.

  Is that what will happen to Wildling? I wonder. When the truth finally comes out, will the town ever be the same again?

  As I walk deeper into the bush, the snow gums move closer together. I hop from rock to rock across a small stream, the steady flow of clear, cold water providing a temporary distraction from the thoughts colliding in my head.

  Eventually, I reach for my phone to check the time and see the no signal icon in the top right corner. I automatically glance back the way I’ve come and wonder how far I am from the entrance to the park. A flicker of worry sparks in my chest when I realise I’m not completely sure, but I push it aside. I’ve walked through this park a thousand times. I know it well. When we came with Dad, we used to get intentionally lost as a way to add to the magic of the day. We pretended to be the first people who ever set foot on each rock, to touch each tree, to walk each trail. And we always found our way home.

  I calm myself and turn, preparing to retrace my steps, only to find that a few metres back, the trail splinters off into three paths. Each seems to wind its way into the depths of the bush. I quickly try to recall which I took, but all three trails look maddeningly similar.

  I spin slowly in place, trying to suppress the panic rising in my chest. I scan the trails for any sign, any clue, that might jog my memory. I see a twisted tree that seems familiar, but they all look so similar.

  As I head back along the path, I convince myself that I'm on the right track. I glance at my watch. It’s 3.43 pm. Around me, the shadows are growing quickly, the air turning from light and crisp to dense and cold. It can’t be more than an hour back. That means the bush should spit me out just before 5 pm. It will be almost dark by then. I pick up the pace, my feet skipping between a walk and a run every few steps. This has to be the way. It has to be.

  At 4:30 pm, I stop and try to catch my breath. In the distance, I hear the sound of the river I crossed, but it’s a long way off. I pull my jacket tighter around me. In less than half an hour, it’s going to be dark, and I don’t seem to be any closer to the trailhead.

  After a few hesitant steps forward, I stop, knowing there’s every chance I’m walking deeper and deeper into the park. Behind me, the path is almost indistinguishable from the rest of the bush. My chest heaves, and I try to swallow down the lump in my throat. I need to stay calm. But as I glance up and see the sun sinking lower, the first tear slips over my cheek. The temperature will be below zero overnight. I can’t stay out here. I quickly take out my phone to call Triple Zero, but my stomach falls when I see only a black screen. The battery has died.

  ‘No, no, no,’ I cry. ‘Shit.’

  I think back to the safety of my car, the musky aroma of Mum and Dad’s wood heater, and the comfort of pulling a blanket up over my chest. Around me, the bush is growing dark. It smells wet and cold, a mix of moss, earth, and dank sadness. ‘Oh my God,’ I sob. ‘What do I do?’

  If I can just find my way back to where the trails split, I can try one of the others. If that doesn’t take me home, the other one will. The process of elimination. It’s all I can do. I crouch and pick up a stick, breaking it in half and planting it upright in the ground. If I get disorientated and find myself back here, at least I’ll know not to keep going this way.

  ‘You can do this,’ I whisper to myself. ‘You’ll be all right.’

  I straighten up and turn back, hopefully heading for home.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  THE call from Daley is almost a relief – anything to break the tension between Will and me. Since the argument I had with him and my brother the other day, things at home have been unpleasant, to say the least. Tonight, I made his favourite dinner – eggplant and zucchini lasagna, but all he’s done is sit across from me, pushing it around the plate with his fork.

  ‘Hey, boss, what’s up?’ I answer as I get up and leave him sitting out in the kitchen.

  ‘I need you and Koda to come in.’

  His tone causes my stomach to tighten. I glance out the window. It’s been dark for more than an hour, and it can’t be more than one or two degrees outside. ‘What’s happened?’

  He pauses, and I feel the first skip of my heart. ‘It’s Juniper Davis,’ he says. ‘She’s missing.’

  ‘Juniper’s missing?’ My mind immediately flashes back to my collision with her on the street a few days ago.

  ‘According to Dave and Sue, she went for a walk in the park this afternoon. Had a few things on her mind. She must have lost her way. It’s been a while since she was here.’

  ‘No ping from her mobile?’

  ‘Last one was three hours ago, just north of Kincumber Creek. Phone must have died.’

  And they’ve called in the police?’

  ‘They have. Herm specifically asked that you do the search. He told Dave and Sue you know that side of the park better than anyone. Promised them you’d be best placed to find her.’

  ‘He did?’

  ‘Your last search must have impressed him.’

  Or he’s hoping I’ll accidentally fall off a cliff in the dark. ‘Let me get our things. We’ll be there in fifteen.’

  As we pull into the gravel car park of the ranger station, I turn off the engine and glance at Koda in the rear-vision mirror. He immediately meets my eye and lets out a frustrated whine. He knows why we’re here. It’s time to work.

  Inside the ranger station, the atmosphere is tense. Daley is hunched over a map spread out on the table. His eyes flicker over me as we enter, nodding in acknowledgement.

  ‘Thanks for coming in, Thomas. It’s cold out. Time is a factor.’

  I nod, my heart tightening. I know the trails up around Kincumber Creek well. They’re dense and winding. Treacherous at night.

  In the small visitors’ room, Juniper’s parents are huddled together, their faces pale and drawn. Daley follows my gaze. ‘Don’t go in there making promises you can’t keep.’

  I hold his eye for a moment and then signal for Koda to follow me. ‘Dave, Sue, this is Koda,’ I tell them. ‘He’s the best chance we have of locating Juniper.’

  Sue looks us over. She has a tissue clutched tight in her fist, and her eyes are red from crying. ‘Thank you for coming to help.

  I nod quietly and run my hand along Koda’s head. ‘My dog will find her. It’s what he does.’

  Dave is holding his wife tightly. He manages a weak smile. ‘Promise me you’ll find our Junie,’ he whispers, his voice cracking. ‘Please, Mia.’

  Before I can respond, Herm marches in, shoulders back and barking orders. ‘Mia, SES volunteers are already covering the lower trails. We need you to go higher. You and the dog can navigate the kind of terrain they can’t. You good to go?’

  I glance around the room. A volunteer named Melissa Metcalfe is packing a first-aid kit with methodical precision, while Tom Stilling, one of the other rangers, checks and rechecks his GPS device.

  ‘Daley, can you brief me on the search grids?’ I ask, moving closer to the map. ‘Koda’s nose can do the work of twenty people, but we need to be smart about it. Show me exactly where the phone last pinged.’

  Daley points to the spot on the map where Juniper’s phone signal was last detected. ‘We’ve divided the search into four quadrants. You and Koda take the upper eastern trails. It’s the most challenging terrain, but if anyone can navigate the area, it’s you two.’

  I nod quickly, my mind already racing through the familiar paths. When I’ve decided where we should start, I kneel beside Koda and give him a scratch behind the ear. Daley hands me a radio, and I clip it onto the strap of my pack.

  ‘The ground is still damp, and there's patches of snow, so watch your step in the dark. It might get slippery,’ he tells me. ‘We’ll be monitoring all channels. Stay in contact, Thomas. We don’t want any surprises, you hear me?’

  I close my eyes and carry out one last mental check of our gear. When I’m confident that I have everything we’ll need, I get to my feet and together Koda and I step outside into the frigid night. If Juniper was just going for a walk, she won’t be equipped for this type of cold. We don’t have much time.

  ‘Okay, Koda, let’s do this,’ I tell him. ‘Every minute counts.’

  OUT on the trail, my headlamp creates a bobbing circle of light as we push ahead, quickly leaving the other searchers behind. I glance back at their strobing flashlights, dancing like fireflies against the night sky. It’s protocol to search in designated quadrants, but they’re not going to find her back there. The trails up around Kincumber Creek are a labyrinth. If you don’t know the area, they can take you around and around in circles, each one up to fifty kilometres of winding, rocky terrain that will inevitably lead you right back to where you came from. The only question is, which one is she on?

  Juniper Davis. Somehow, she’d got me to admit I thought Lilly and Hazel were murdered. I hadn’t been paying attention. It didn’t hit me until I got home that day what had happened. Today, she told her parents she was coming out here to try and clear her head. Was it because of what I said? Is it my fault she’s lost out here in the cold and dark?

  ‘Easy, Koda,’ I murmur, as we manoeuvre through a patch of scratchy blackberry bush. Thorns scrape against my jacket, and I try quickly to navigate him away, so he doesn’t get caught in the prickles.

  On a search like this, I would usually let Koda off-lead. He would go ahead, find the scent source, and return to me. But it’s dark out. I trust him implicitly, but I won’t risk his safety. There are too many potential dangers that I can’t see, and so instead I keep him close, which also means I have to try and match his pace.

  Cold air burns the back of my throat as we dash through the park. Koda’s nose twitches as he moves forward, weaving back and forth in a methodical pattern. His tail wags slightly, a sign that he’s focused on the job. Every so often, he looks back at me, and I encourage him to keep going.

  When we reach a small clearing, I hear the faint sound of running water. Kincumber Creek is only a few metres away. I pause and scan the surroundings with my torch. My mind drifts back to our last two searches. Their lifeless bodies flash through my mind, but I quickly push the thought away. This time, it has to end differently. We are going to find Juniper alive. We have to.

  A sharp bark from Koda snaps me back to the present. ‘Good boy. Show me.’ He immediately bounds toward the creek, caring little about the freezing water as he dashes across.

  With no time to step from rock to rock, I run after him, my water-resistant pants and boots useless against the freezing water.

  On the other side, the terrain is treacherous. The wet track is slippery underfoot. Koda stops suddenly, his nose pressed to the ground, sniffing intently at a particular spot. His body is tense, his ears perked up. I crouch beside him, examining the area. There’s nothing visible, but I know from Koda’s behaviour that Juniper was on this path.

  He quickly barks, once, twice, three times, then pulls against his harness. As best I can, I press the button on my radio to contact Daley and the others.

  ‘In scent,’ I call as we dash forward. ‘Eastern side of Kincumber Creek. Right where the phone pinged. Won’t be long now.’

  Suddenly, my foot slides out, sending me sprawling forward. I manage to break the fall with my hands, but the jolt leaves me breathless. Koda is instantly at my side, whining softly, his nose nudging my cheek.

  ‘I’m okay, mate,’ I assure him, pushing myself up and wincing as I test my ankle. It throbs, but I can still put pressure on it. We can’t afford to stop.

  The track is steep and uneven. Rocks jut out at odd angles, making it tricky to navigate with only the light of my headlamp. Cold seeps into my bones, and my feet are aching.

  Would she have come all the way up here? It seems unlikely, but Koda is sure. As he pulls me forward, a sense of dread settles in my stomach. Lilly’s lifeless eyes. The colour of Hazel’s skin.

  Without warning, Koda halts. His ears prick up, and he tilts his head, listening to something only he can hear. He barks sharply and looks at me, his eyes filled with urgency. I strain to hear something – anything that might tell me Juniper is still alive, but all I hear are the sounds of the bush.

  ‘Juniper?’ I shout as loud as I can. ‘Juniper, it’s Mia. Can you hear me?’

  I grab my radio and call Daley. ‘We’re closing in. I don’t have audio or visual confirmation yet, but I’m certain she’s here.’

  ‘Great work, Thomas. Find her and get back here.’

  ‘Will do, boss.’ I click off and focus all my energy on Koda. ‘Find her.’

  Together we sprint forward, Koda leading the way. As he closes in on the scent, his body language shifts into high gear. Every move is deliberate, as he quickly weaves back and forth in a zigzag pattern, systematically covering the area to pinpoint the scent source.

  ‘Almost there, Koda,’ I encourage him. ‘Almost there.’

  Occasionally, he pauses, head snapping up as he reassesses the scent’s direction. His sniffing is audible now, a rapid succession of short, sharp inhales and exhales.

  ‘Juniper?’ I call again. ‘Juniper, can you hear me?’

  Koda pivots left, guiding us down a familiar trail that I know will eventually loop back to the creek. A few metres in, he stops, nose to the ground, inspecting a stick placed deliberately in the middle of the path. His quick, urgent barks leave no doubt – Juniper must have put it there to mark her way.

  ‘Juniper? It’s Mia. Can you hear me?’

  I close my eyes, tilt my head, and listen. She has to be here. Koda doesn’t make mistakes.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Juniper

  THE cold is biting. Every breath feels like a shard of ice tearing into my lungs. When the trail led around in circles, I decided to take shelter under a low-hanging tree branch to try and conserve what little warmth I have left.

  I gave up bargaining a long time ago, but with nothing left to lose, once again I close my eyes and promise that if someone finds me, I’ll make a change. A difference. I’ll do something that makes my life count.

  I shiver and bite down to keep my teeth from chattering. Around me, the darkness presses in, thick and suffocating. Each rustle, every snap of a twig, sends adrenaline coursing through my body. My mind is a whirlwind of what-ifs, each one darker than the last. What if no one finds me? What if I don’t survive the night? What if, what if, what if?

  Mum and Dad must be frantic by now. Someone will come. They have to.

  I shift slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position. The ground is so hard and so cold. I strain my ears, listening for any sign that someone might be nearby. I think I hear a bark, but it’s faint and far away. Could it be real, or am I imagining things? Has Mia come looking for me with her dog?