by Sarah Bailey
‘No, I’m not.’
He drops his hand, his handsome face uncertain. ‘What, because I’m here? Come on, Oli. Check your phone. I left you a message telling you what happened. I was worried about you because you said you were sick, and I figured you might be sleeping in because I knew you worked late.’
Oli tries to push the panic back inside of her, but it’s like trying to catch smoke. ‘Where were you last night? Were you here in Melbourne?’
He steps forward. ‘No, I told you, I drove back early this morning.’ He points to the cafeteria. ‘Should we grab a coffee? I have a few minutes before I need to meet with Nath again.’
Oli’s skin buzzes. Is he lying? Maybe he was in Melbourne yesterday. Last night. ‘I don’t want a coffee. I want to know what the fuck is going on.’
Dean’s eyes narrow, his hands going to his hips. ‘Likewise. I’ve told you why I’m here, but what are you doing here? Were you really sick last night? Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?’
Something inside Oli snaps. ‘I can’t do this right now. I have to go.’
People turn to stare at them, and she knows how it must look: a well-dressed couple arguing like teenagers. They probably think it’s a lover’s tiff, a wife jealous over a crush her husband has on a student. If only they knew the horrible thoughts crawling around in her head.
Dean grabs her arm, pulls her into a doorway.
She jerks out of his grip. ‘Don’t touch me!’
‘Oli, stop! Stop it.’ Dean bares his teeth, his voice rising. ‘Just stop it.’
‘No. I have to go. I don’t want to talk to you right now.’
He deflates. ‘I’m going to be sorting out this mess for the rest of the day. Do you want to talk later tonight when you’ve calmed down? I was planning on driving back, but I can stay.’
‘No.’ She sniffs, feeling like a child. ‘Go back to the twins.’
‘Oli, please.’ His eyes are huge, bewildered. ‘Why are you being like this?’
‘Dean, enough. Just give me some space for a little while.’
She leaves him standing in the middle of the path staring after her, fists curled at his sides.
McCrae’s not in today after all. A tall girl with tinted blue hair sitting up the back of the lecture hall tells Oli he must be sick.
‘Or he might be caught up in some research thing. He’s involved in lots of different studies.’
‘Where’s his office?’ Oli asks.
Repeating the girls’ directions under her breath Oli makes her way to the psychology building. McCrae’s not in his office either. She doubles back the way she came and asks at the reception desk.
‘He might be around here somewhere, but I doubt it.’ A row of hoops line the left earlobe of the young woman behind the desk; a single stud glitters in her right. ‘You can leave him a message, or otherwise he’ll be back on, um,’ she checks a complicated timetable, ‘tomorrow.’
Oli exits the building and walks back along the main path, praying she won’t see Dean. A young man wearing a vest covered in badges is playing a piano in a sheltered area of the quadrangle, and several students are sitting on the concrete in the sun, listening. It’s almost lunchtime, Oli realises, noticing the line of students that snakes out of a cafe. She rounds a corner and almost walks headfirst into Nathan Farrow.
‘Oli?’
‘Nathan, hi.’
He looks distracted but smiles kindly. She’s relieved to see that he has ditched the facial hair. ‘Are you here to see Dean? I’m about to meet with him.’
‘Um, sort of.’
‘Come with me if you like?’
‘No, that’s okay.’
‘Alright then, well, see you later.’ He starts to walk off.
Oli blurts out, ‘Nathan, did you ask Dean to come back? From Lakes Entrance?’
Nathan stops and turns around, giving her a funny look. ‘No, but once he heard what was going on I think he wanted to handle things himself, and I certainly didn’t oppose him being here in person. Ken’s good, but he’s not Dean.’ Nathan smiles. ‘Why, is everything okay?’
‘When did he come back?’
Nathan swallows. ‘I’m not sure. We spoke yesterday, so last night? This morning?’ He pulls his head back, eyes sliding left then right. ‘Ah, why do I feel like I’m saying the wrong thing?’
She bites her lip and tries to stop the tears coming. On the phone last night, Dean didn’t say a word about coming back.
Nathan holds up his hands. ‘I’m not sure what is going on, but I do know you can trust Dean. He’s one of the most reliable people I’ve ever met.’
She inhales sharply. Nods. It’s not like she can tell Nathan what she’s thinking.
‘I’ve got to go,’ he says. ‘Will you be okay?’
‘Yes, of course.’ She smiles weakly. ‘Bye, Nathan.’
As she walks across the campus, she pushes thoughts of Dean aside and digs in her bag for her notebook. Locates the Post-it Pia gave her with the McCraes’ phone number.
A woman answers. Diana.
‘Hi, I have a courier delivery for a Professor McCrae.’ Oli keeps her voice clipped, her tone slightly bored. ‘It’s from the university. I have East Melbourne as the postcode, but the number and street I have listed aren’t showing up on Google. Is it 45 Orchid Road?’
‘No, that’s completely wrong,’ Diana says. ‘It’s 68 George Street.’
‘Typical,’ Oli says. ‘Okay, thanks. The courier will be around shortly.’
‘You’re welcome.’
Oli shoves her phone in her pocket, walks out to the street and hails another cab.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
DIANA AND JULIAN McCRAE LIVE IN A STUNNING DOUBLE - STOREY terrace just a few streets from the Melbourne Cricket Ground. Rich green ivy weaves between cast-iron railings on both balconies, and rows of iris fill the neat front garden. A small pond to the left of the brick path brims with lily pads, and Oli catches a flash of orange scales in the water. She steps onto the front porch and peers into the side window. Sees a large indoor palm. A pair of leather boots.
She presses the doorbell, and a low note sounds inside.
‘Coming!’ calls a male voice. Julian McCrae opens the door. ‘Hello.’ He’s balding, the remaining hair a light grey. He wears a Reebok sweatshirt, jeans with socks, and holds a newspaper and a pen, midway through a crossword. ‘Can I help you?’ He smiles, brown eyes kind. He coughs. ‘Sorry, I’m a bit under the weather actually.’
Oli notes that he does look unwell, his nostrils red as if he’s been blowing his nose.
A woman appears behind him. Pearl-grey hair, an apron belted around her slender waist.
‘Professor McCrae. I’ve been trying to talk to you. I’m a journalist. My name is Oli Groves.’
Diana makes eye contact with Oli, understanding straight away. Her mouth forms a little circle, and she looks nervously at her husband.
‘I’m sorry, you’re a journalist?’ He looks Oli up and down.
‘Yes. I’m from Melbourne Today. And I want to speak to you about the night Evelyn Stanley was murdered.’
His face drops. Hardens. ‘No, I’m sorry. I have nothing to say about that. It’s all in the past. And I don’t appreciate you coming to my house.’ He shakes his head. ‘No.’
‘Please!’ Oli steps into the doorway. ‘My colleague was killed last night, and I think it had something to do with what happened back then. Something that someone is trying to cover up.’ Does she really think this, she wonders? She pulls out her wallet and fumbles with her business cards, then thrusts a handful at him, several falling to the ground. ‘I just want your help. Maybe you need some time to think about it, but please talk to me. Please.’
‘I’m sorry. I can’t help you.’ His voice is quiet but firm. He places his hand on the door, starts to close it. It hits her boot, and he pushes harder.
‘Please!’ Her throat constricts as she pulls her throbbing foot out of the gap.
‘You need to leave, or I will call the police,’ Julian hisses in the manner of someone not used to conflict. He looks horrified with himself and annoyed at Oli all over again.
The door clicks shut. She stands on the porch, staring at the pond through her tears. On the other side of the door Julian and Diana start to argue, their polite angry voices fading as they move into the bowels of the house.
After a few minutes Oli walks slowly back down the driveway. She’s unsure what to do next. She wishes she could talk to Cooper, but he’s dead in the morgue, his scrawny body enduring unthinkable examination.
As she wanders along George Street, tears stream down her face. All around her are signs of spring: flowers budding on the branches, bulbs pushing through the ground, birds collecting moss and lichen. But to Oli it feels like everything is falling apart. Cooper is dead, and TJ is waging some kind of war to ensure he’s the last man standing at the paper.
And Dean—what is she going to do about Dean? The horrible doubt won’t leave her alone: could he have told Theo Bouris where Isabelle was the morning she died? Oli bites her lip. Surely not. No. She’s losing her mind. The attack on Cooper has made her paranoid, questioning everything she knows. Dean might have lied to her about his fertility, and about Isabelle’s plans, but that doesn’t make him a killer. He lied to Isabelle too, she reminds herself. For almost two years he snuck around with you.
She reaches the corner of Clarendon Street and Wellington Parade. Trams roll past, and the Fitzroy Gardens stretch out in front of her, pretty in the sunshine. She looks around and shivers. Every car that drives past is making her feel nervous. When her phone rings, she jumps. An unfamiliar mobile.
She answers tentatively, trying not to let her voice shake. ‘Hello.’
‘It’s Diana. Diana McCrae.’
Oli’s eyebrows shoot skyward. ‘Diana, hi.’
‘Yes. I’m sorry about before. Julian doesn’t like to talk about what happened. That’s why I was rude the other day when you called.’
‘I understand.’ Oli feels slightly hysterical.
‘Yes, well. Oh, god, I’m not sure if I should be talking to you, but I think there’s something very wrong. I’m not sure what to do.’
‘Diana, do you want me to come back to the house? I can come right now.’
‘No, no,’ she says hastily. ‘I’m walking the dog. Do you want to … ?’
‘Where are you?’
‘Let’s meet at Yarra Park.’ Diana sounds relieved. ‘Near the playground.’
Oli is already jogging. ‘I’ll be there in five.’
Perched on a park bench next to a huge German shepherd, Diana is watching two small children play on the slide. Oli takes a seat next to her, and the dog swallows and sticks its neck out to give her a cursory sniff before resuming its position, huge tongue flapping in the breeze. The MCG towers behind them like a castle set against the mottled grey sky. Tall trees line the crisscrossing paths, their fresh new leaves stirring gently. The grass carpet is emerald green. An elderly man zaps by on a motorised scooter, and the children giggle, racing each other to the top of the slide. Oli notices their mother nearby on a picnic rug, arranging little containers of food as she talks on the phone.
Diana thrusts her hands into the thick mane around the dog’s neck and gives it a vigorous rub, smiling sadly. ‘This is Hugo. He’s old and blind and generally out of sorts these days.’
Diana is younger than her husband, perhaps in her late forties. Fine-boned, her tiny frame swims in a long tartan coat. Her luminous skin spruiks the benefits of sunscreen and expensive treatments. Thin gold chains loop delicately around both wrists, and tiny pearls hang from her ears. She seems upset but determined, reminding Oli of an abuse victim ready to talk.
‘Hi, Hugo.’ Oli digs her fingers into the dog’s fur. ‘Does your husband know you’re here?’
‘No, he doesn’t.’ Diana looks back at the playground, loosens her hair from its clasp. It swings around her face, and Oli smells her perfume.
‘Are you in danger?’ Oli asks quietly.
‘Ha!’ The sound is bitter. ‘Danger? No, I’m not in any danger. I just think I’ve been an idiot all this time.’ She hesitates, glances at Oli. ‘But I guess we are all the sum of the decisions we make.’
‘None of this has to be on the record, Diana. Right now I just want to understand what really happened that night on Paradise Street. Because I think it’s still happening.’ Oli hopes she doesn’t sound crazy; the last thing she wants is to scare Diana away.
The woman nods, her eyes glassy. ‘I think you’re right.’
‘What was Julian really doing there?’
‘We were going to pay her, you know,’ Diana says. ‘That’s how desperate we were.’
Oli doesn’t understand. ‘Pay who?’
‘We couldn’t have children. Well, I couldn’t anyway. We’d tried everything—IVF, natural remedies. Even adoption. But there were so many hoops to jump through, and in the end we decided we wanted a biological link to the child. It was tearing us apart. I was a mess, and Julian was beside himself. My husband is a fixer, you see, but he couldn’t fix this. It is very strange to grieve something you never had, but that’s what I did. I was in mourning.’
‘I understand.’
Diana looks at Oli. ‘Maybe you do. And in a way, maybe it was worse for Julian. The issue was mine, but he felt helpless.’ She adjusts her wedding ring. ‘I could actually hear a giant clock ticking. It followed me around, every waking minute.’ With a laugh, she adds, ‘Probably sounds completely insane.’
‘No, it doesn’t,’ Oli murmurs. ‘Not at all.’
‘Anyway. Nicole and Evelyn were in Julian’s classes that year. He liked them, and I guess they liked him. He met with them outside of class. They were all passionate about early twentieth-century cinema. It wasn’t inappropriate or anything. Our situation came up.’ Diana waves her hand as if Oli is about to protest. ‘I was fine with him talking about it, I wasn’t someone who wanted it to be a big secret. But about a week later, Nicole came to him with a proposition. She said she was willing to be our egg donor and surrogate. She had done some research—she wanted fifteen thousand dollars and all of the expenses paid.’ Diana hesitates. ‘I met her, and I liked her. It seemed too good to be true. Looking back, I can see how problematic it was, but she made it sound so easy, and she was so confident. Her positivity was contagious, and I was desperate.’
Oli thinks about what Cara said, about her sister being able to convince people to do anything. Then she thinks about Nicole throwing Billy against the fence. The more Oli knows about Nicole the more mysterious she seems. ‘She was your silver bullet.’
Diana looks grateful. ‘She was. I started to hope. She was so young and healthy.’ Her jaw wobbles. ‘I started to picture our child.’
‘But then?’
‘A few weeks later Nicole disappeared.’
‘Right,’ Oli says, trying to fit it all together. ‘And this was before you had proceeded with anything?’
‘Yes. We hadn’t gone through with the insemination at that stage. We’d agreed to it in principle and made a few inquiries, but that was it. We thought it best to wait for her exams to be over.’ Diana clears her throat elegantly. ‘So she wasn’t Julian’s student anymore.’
Oli’s heart is thumping in her chest. ‘Right, so …’
Diana transfers Hugo’s leash to her other hand, sighs and tucks stray hair behind her elfin ears. ‘So suddenly Nicole was gone, and it seemed my dreams were dead in the water again. It was a hideous time. We knew how it looked, Julian being at the house that night with a bunch of young students, but I knew the truth. I had been planning to go with him that night. They were our friends. In a way, it was like Nicole was going to be a part of our family. But we decided not to say anything about it to anyone.’ Diana looks pained. ‘We didn’t want the details of our lives splashed all over the papers, especially because we knew the facts would be twisted into someth
ing tacky. After the whole saga, Julian became very introverted. He would barely even talk to me. I knew he felt guilty, which I could understand, but … I don’t know. Maybe I just didn’t want to see what was right in front of me.’
‘Which was what?’
Diana’s hand drifts down to Hugo again. ‘Julian sold some shares about two weeks after that night. A week after that, he withdrew ten thousand dollars from his account. He thinks I didn’t notice, but I knew. I’ve known the whole time.’
‘Why?’
She twists her mouth into a line. ‘I don’t know.’
‘You think he paid Nicole? That they were still in contact?’
‘That is my guess.’
Oli reels back against the bench. Evie, the little girl, is about ten years old. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m not sure!’ Diana exclaims. ‘I guess I just didn’t want to believe it. For a long time, I didn’t want to know. I don’t want to believe it now either, but the facts are right there, aren’t they?’ Julian’s betrayal seems to ooze out of her, veins bulging in her neck, in her temples.
‘You think they slept together?’
‘Yes.’ Diana crosses her legs at the ankles. ‘We had talked about a medical procedure, but I guess the plan changed unbeknown to me. Or maybe it just happened. I fell a little bit in love with her, maybe Julian did too.’
‘Do you think that’s why she disappeared?’
‘I wondered. I thought maybe she felt guilty about what happened and fled.’
Could that be it? Could Nicole’s disappearance and Evelyn’s murder be unrelated?
‘I’m not sure that would be enough to make her abandon her whole life,’ Oli says. ‘It must have had something to do with what happened to Evelyn.’
Diana shrugs and fondles Hugo’s ear.
‘We need to find Nicole,’ Oli says. ‘We need to find out what really happened that night.’
‘But I don’t understand the rest of it. Evelyn being attacked like that was awful. Julian was so upset—he might not be perfect, but he didn’t have anything to do with that. He did come home early that night.’ She sighs. ‘Since the ten thousand dollars, he’s withdrawn more money.’
