‘Anyone with relevant information should call Crime Stoppers,’ Kiara finishes, and recites the number. ‘I’ll take questions now.’
Warrigal Police Station doesn’t have a room for media conferences, so the city reporters are huddled together between puddles in the car park. The rain has petered to a drizzle, but they’ve kept their umbrellas up to protect their phones, clutched before them like talismans. Kiara wishes she had a lectern—something to put between herself and the journalists, and hide the dog hair on her shins. Also, she wishes Sergeant Rohan wasn’t standing so close behind her. Kiara is a respectable 160 centimetres tall, but Rohan stands at more than two metres; in the pictures, it’s going to look like bring-your-daughter-to-work day.
Media briefings are a tightrope. Kiara needs to make the story interesting so it will be circulated widely, prompting witnesses to come forward. But she doesn’t want to create a panic, reveal anything that may compromise the investigation, or get any of the facts wrong. If she makes the NSW Police look bad, her career as a detective will be over before it starts.
She knows the killer may be watching. Ideally, she’ll goad them into making a mistake without helping them foresee lines of enquiry. As she looks down the barrel of one camera, she thinks, I’m coming for you. Then she points to a journalist with a hand up. ‘Yes.’
‘What were the names of the people at the house?’ the woman asks.
‘You know the rules,’ Kiara says. ‘Only age and gender until the victims’ families have all been notified. Next.’ She points again.
This journo says, ‘Of the six holidaymakers, two are dead—do you have any suspects other than the three survivors and the missing woman?’
Actually, there is one more suspect, but it’s too soon to reveal that. ‘We’re keeping all lines of enquiry open at this stage. Now you.’ Kiara points to a journo with frameless glasses and grey whiskers.
He says, ‘Do you think Ms Madden is still alive?’
Madden is the missing woman. Kiara can withhold as many names as she likes, but it won’t stop journalists from digging them up. ‘I’m not going to speculate on that,’ she says, ‘but the State Emergency Service is assisting the police in the search. Next.’
Madden was last seen on Sunday night, and it’s now Thursday morning. There’s no evidence that she has a vehicle, food, water or any wilderness survival experience. It’s not looking good.
A reporter’s pen quivers over her notepad. ‘Did the victims die during the sex?’ she asks.
Kiara’s heart sinks. She hasn’t mentioned this aspect of the investigation, not wanting the story to be sensationalised. Evidently this reporter has a source close to the case.
Upon hearing the word ‘sex’, several other journos suddenly look more interested, as though sensing all the extra clicks.
‘We’re still trying to establish a timeline,’ Kiara says. ‘But we know the first victim died at approximately 9 p.m. on Saturday, and the second at 10 p.m. on Sunday.’
Gregor has finished the autopsies, but they didn’t tell her much she didn’t already know. The statements of Ms Dubois and the two Kellys are consistent on every detail except one: the identity of the killer.
‘Next.’ Kiara points.
The journo clears his throat. ‘Could the swingers have kidnapped the two victims?’
So this guy has a source, too. Kiara wishes people would talk to the police as readily as they talked to journalists. ‘It appears that everyone went to the house willingly. And please don’t call them “swingers”. They were just regular people who decided to try something new, and unfortunately two of them came to grief.’
‘Are you saying that swingers aren’t regular people?’ the same journo asks.
Shit, Kiara thinks. ‘I’m absolutely not saying that. Next question.’ She points at a guy on the other side of the group.
His voice is smug and reedy. ‘Is this your first case as lead detective?’
‘That’s correct,’ Kiara says, looking around for someone else to call on.
‘There have been eight shocking murders in Warrigal since this time last year,’ the man continues.
‘Well, that depends on how you define shocking.’ Kiara regrets the words immediately.
Questions flood in from all sides: ‘How many more deaths have there been?’ ‘Are you saying murder isn’t shocking?’ ‘Why are the police incapable of keeping this community safe?’
Kiara shouts over the top of them: ‘Again, the public can help by calling Crime Stoppers with relevant information. That’s all the time I have.’
She closes her notebook and hurries back into the station, trying not to look like she’s fleeing.