And then the video was over.
After several long moments, Gabriella said, ‘Thoughts?’
‘Too many to list,’ murmured Con.
‘My vote is the Hungry Man is back.’
‘What did she mean about the bone man? Is that another name for the Hungry Man?’ Con was scrolling through Madison’s channel. ‘Damn. She really has over a million subscribers.’
‘And it was only 700 000 just yesterday. It’s only going to grow. Especially as the Hungry Man stories start to get around again. The notes from the station this morning said there were reports of some families with young girls who are packing up and leaving the area entirely.’
Con clicked on one of the videos at random and scrolled through the frames. It showed Cierra and Madison, sitting on the same bed, doing each other’s make-up. They were scantily clad in silk pyjamas.
‘They’re very pretty girls . . .’ commented Gabriella.
‘Pretty enough to take?’ wondered Con, an uneasy feeling growing in his stomach. His mind slipped back to Sydney and the Jaguar case.
I should’ve known it wouldn’t be so simple as girls lost in the bush.
The thought made him unbearably sad.
‘We’ll have a chat with Miss Madison Mason,’ said Con. ‘I’ll meet you in the lobby in fifteen.’
He opened the wardrobe and pulled out some of the clothes he’d hung there the night before – a white linen shirt, grey suit trousers, his underwear. He realised Gabriella hadn’t moved, and when he turned back he saw her watching him, a smirk on her lips and iPhone in her hand.
‘Don’t stop on my account,’ she said, her phone camera pointed his way.
‘This is sexual objectification,’ he said.
‘Yep . . .’ Her whole chest moved as she laughed and danced out of the room.
Gabriella whistled at the sight of the Masons’ house, taking her sunglasses off to get a clearer look. ‘Damn.’
The two-storey house was rendered with white and gold finishes, turrets and bay windows emerging from between jacaranda trees, the air heady with their scent and buzzing with bees. The path from the driveway to the verandah was a line of marble stepping stones set in a meticulous lawn.
‘I feel like I’m walking towards a rich person’s house. Do you think that’s the effect they were going for?’ said Gabriella in a stage whisper.
Con knocked on the door. A moment later there was a squeak of metal from the peephole opening, and then a familiar girl’s voice from just behind the door. ‘Who are you?’
Con held up his police badge for the peephole. ‘Madison? I’m Detective Badenhorst and this is Detective Pakinga. Are your parents home?’
The door unlocked with clinking chains. Madison was as she’d appeared in the video. She held a shivering grey whippet dog to her chest.
‘Dad’s up at the search,’ said Madison. ‘Mum’s at the school, with my younger brother.’
‘There’s no school today,’ said Gabriella.
‘They’ve brought in counsellors,’ said Madison, a little waspishly. ‘Especially for the kids affected. Like my little brother. Shouldn’t you know that?’
‘We’re a little focused on other things, Madison,’ said Con, smiling, but voice hard.
‘Sorry, I don’t mean to sound rude,’ she said. ‘Come in.’
She guided them to a sparkling clean and massive dining room, where they took a seat at the Tasmanian oak dining table. She placed the whippet on the ground. ‘This is Mr Bruiser. He won’t hurt you.’ As if to prove her point, the dog scampered out of the room.
‘Do you want anything? A drink? Something to eat?’
‘We just wondered if we could have a chat,’ said Gabriella. ‘Particularly about something you said in your video this morning.’
Madison’s red lips curled into a wry smile. She leaned back against the table, folding her arms across her chest. ‘You saw that? What do you want to know?’
‘We need to wait for your parents —’ started Con.
‘I don’t know when they’ll be back. And honestly, detectives, I have quite a bit to do. Can we just get to the point?’ She sighed. ‘Sorry, that was rude again. I don’t have the energy to be polite right now. Can you just ask what you want to know?’
‘So long as you understand that these are not formal questions. You don’t have to talk to us without your parents.’
Madison nodded impatiently.
‘You and Jasmine had a fight. Can you tell us what you were fighting over?’ said Gabriella.
‘No.’
Gabriella gave a weird sound that was half grunt, half indignant snort.
‘Madison, this is important,’ said Con.
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘I don’t think you understand —’
Madison interrupted him. ‘How would you feel knowing that you’d hit one of your friends, told them you hated them, and then a few hours later they were missing? I don’t want to talk about it. You said I didn’t have to answer your questions.’
‘Alright,’ said Con. ‘Just a few more casual questions. How long did it take you to catch up with the other group when Miss Ellis sent you ahead?’
‘I don’t know, fifteen minutes? I was dragging my feet – I kept trying to decide whether I should go back and apologise, or go back and punch Jasmine again.’ Tears appeared in her eyes. ‘Maybe it would’ve been better if I had. Maybe I could’ve stopped whatever happened . . .’ She wiped her nose with her knuckle.
‘Or you could’ve been caught up in it too, remember. Whatever it is,’ said Con. ‘Did you see anything, when you left the others? Anything weird on the trail, anything out of place? No matter how small.’ He thought of the bear that Georgia had thought she’d seen. ‘Or big.’
‘No. Nothing at all. Not even the sound of footsteps.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ said Gabriella.
‘It’s part of the Hungry Man legend. They say you hear his footsteps in the bush beside you, and that if you look at him . . . he takes you.’
‘Interesting,’ said Gabriella.
‘But you heard nothing, saw no one,’ said Con.
‘No one,’ agreed Madison. ‘But we know someone else was up there, right? Someone hit Miss Ellis. What has she been saying?’
‘Were any of the four girls acting strangely?’ said Con.
‘We were all pretty heated . . . and then Bree lost it, of course.’ She took the time to wipe her nose properly with a tissue, then realised Con and Gabriella were waiting for her to keep speaking. ‘What?’
‘Why was Bree angry?’ said Gabriella.
‘Don’t you have files on this stuff? Denni King, Miss Ellis’s niece, was Bree’s best friend. Ever since Denni died, she gets angry – really angry. They told her it’s post-traumatic stress. I don’t know how many times she’s been suspended since Denni died.’
Con and Gabriella glanced at each other.
‘You did know that, right?’ said Madison slowly.
Con shrugged, not liking how this girl kept him on the back foot. ‘We’re still reviewing information.’