The Housemate

by Sarah Bailey

  ‘My piece needs to be re-worked, I get that, but why can’t we run the podcast? I deliberately avoided hard claims. I know it needs editing, but I don’t know how to do that.’ Her voice cracks. ‘I’m sure someone in Kylie’s team does.’

  ‘We can’t risk it with the cops. And as far as I can tell, it’s just your opinion. I think you’re too close to it.’

  ‘You mean you don’t want to risk it.’

  ‘Oli.’

  ‘What? When did we lose the last of our spine?’ She drops her voice. ‘Come on, Dawn, this is important. This might prompt someone to come forward. People were sending Cooper emails after the first Housemate episode.’

  Dawn sighs. ‘Oli. I know you’re upset about Cooper, but this isn’t good. You’re acting erratically. Update your piece if you can, and I’ll review it, but the podcast episode you recorded is not going to happen. I’m not about to start an all-out war with the cops over a hunch.’

  ‘But I’m on their side! Surely, everyone will want Isabelle’s death re-examined if it turns out there’s more to it.’

  ‘Just focus on the piece.’ Dawn’s tone teeters on the edges of being patronising. ‘We need to have a broader conversation about the podcast anyway and how we manage it going forward. I don’t think it works with one person. I’ll set up a meeting next week.’

  ‘Hang on, wait. What do you mean?’

  ‘We’ll talk about it next week,’ Dawn says firmly. ‘File your piece if you want, then have a rest. Take the time.’

  She hangs up, and Oli cries out in frustration. She’s past tired now, somewhere in between furious and hopeless.

  Outside Breakers there’s a one-hour park that she eases the Toyota into. She orders a coffee, barely acknowledging Col, and stares moodily out the window while she waits. If the little girl isn’t Louise and isn’t Nicole’s, then who is she? And why did Nicole offer the McCraes the chance to have a baby if she knew she was infertile? Why did she seduce Julian that night? Was it just to have the upper hand, a reason to blackmail him?

  Oli’s focus blurs as she stares at Col frothing the milk. She jumps when he calls her name.

  ‘Looks like you need this today,’ he says with a wink.

  Back in the studio, Oli dumps her bag on the desk and looks at Cooper’s timeline on the wall. His things on the desk. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she says to the empty room.

  She sits and opens her laptop. She tries to edit the piece, massage it into a different shape, but without the Louise Carter revelation it loses its structure. And Nicole is still missing.

  Giving up, Oli finishes her cold coffee and throws the cup in the bin. Amid the maddening churn of theories about Nicole, the conversation she needs to have with Dean is like a vice around her brain. Restless, she scrolls through her emails until she comes across several Cooper sent on Sunday morning. Her heart jolts as she remembers what Pia said about him chasing down something at the university after he received a tip-off.

  All the emails were forwarded from the podcast address he set up. Two are from people spruiking theories about the housemates, claiming to have known the girls. Another Cooper has forwarded with a note: I’m going to call her and see if she’s legit. Oli reads quickly: a woman who went to Melbourne uni at the same time as the girls believes they might have been involved in selling child pornography. She was approached to do the same thing.

  Oli almost falls off her chair as she reaches across the table to grab her phone. She calls the number at the end of the email.

  ‘Hello?’ A woman’s voice.

  ‘Hello …’ Oli frantically checks the name. ‘Zoe? This is Oli Groves, I work at Melbourne Today. I’ve read your email. The one you sent in after we published the podcast.’

  Her voice turns solemn. ‘I saw the news about Cooper. I’m not sure I want to talk to you.’

  Oli swallows. ‘Why not?’

  ‘I just … I don’t know. As soon as I sent the email I regretted it, then I spoke to him the other day and look what happened.’

  Oli’s eyebrows knit together. ‘Hang on, you think what happened to Cooper is linked to you contacting him?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Zoe says. ‘Maybe. It’s the reason why I didn’t say anything for so long.’

  ‘Please talk to me. I need to understand what’s going on.’

  ‘I want to, I’m so sick of not saying anything, but I’m not sure it’s safe.’

  ‘Please, Zoe,’ Oli says. ‘It’s so important that if you know something you tell me. You know that, right?’

  ‘Okay, look, I don’t want to be linked to this at all. I mean it.’

  ‘That’s fine. Just talk to me, please. Tell me what you told Cooper.’

  Zoe smothers a sob. ‘I was a messed-up kid, okay? Drugs and whatever. But I was smart and I did alright at school. I got into uni and I was doing my best, but I was still struggling. I had no money, and my parents kicked me out, so I was doing whatever I could to earn cash—selling weed, stripping, the usual. Anyway, I got into some trouble with drug possession, stealing and stuff, and things weren’t great for me. I met this girl and I was telling her how fucked things were, and she said there was an easy way I could make some cash.’ Zoe pauses. ‘It was so weird, but I was desperate, and she said there was this group of people who, like, sourced photos of kids.’

  All the air seems to leave the room. ‘You mean pornography.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess. But not like, explicit or doing sex stuff. Just shots of them in the bath or getting dressed or whatever. She said it could be kids you knew or kids you babysat. The whole conversation was pretty bizarre.’

  ‘Was it one of the housemates?’ Oli can barely breathe.

  ‘No, I’m sure it wasn’t. It was a blonde girl. She had a tattoo on her neck under her hair. I don’t know who she was.’

  ‘Did she say how it would work?’

  ‘Just that you would upload photos to this website. I think it was untraceable somehow.’

  ‘Like a hidden Dropbox.’ Oli remembers covering a story a few years ago where files and images were traded on the dark web.

  ‘I guess so. She said you could do it at the uni library through a dummy account.’

  Oli’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘At the library?’

  ‘Yep. She said the whole thing went all the way to the top, and that’s why it was safe—that no one involved had ever got in any trouble.’

  ‘What did she mean by “the top”?’

  ‘I dunno. Like, people with influence, I guess. She said that you could earn thousands of dollars, but that if you screwed it up or went to the cops or whatever then the guys running it could set you up for another crime and land you in gaol. That’s how much power they had.’

  ‘Zoe, when was this?’

  ‘2004.’

  A horrible thought anchors in Oli’s gut.

  ‘I didn’t do it, by the way,’ Zoe says. ‘I kind of flipped out over it and ended up dropping out of uni and moving to Queensland.’

  Oli’s thoughts swarm around each other. ‘And you told Cooper all this the other day?’

  ‘Yeah. He asked lots of questions too. He asked if the girl I spoke to back then ever mentioned the premier.’

  ‘John O’Brien?’

  ‘Yeah. I said no, but he still seemed pretty fired up about it.’

  Oli is struggling to concentrate. ‘Thanks, Zoe, I really appreciate you talking to me.’

  ‘Just be careful. Back then I could tell this was big and now, well, people are dying. I just don’t know how far this goes.’

  Oli hangs up, completely overwhelmed. Isabelle knew about this, she is sure of it. She glances at Cooper’s notebook. Remembers writing Rusty’s number on the front page. Did Cooper call Rusty and tell him what Zoe said? Did Rusty know where he went that day?

  She starts pacing around the room, ignoring her ballooning bladder as it strains against her stomach. Clearly Cooper thought that O’Brien was involved or he wouldn’t have asked Zoe about him. That line of t
hinking would have led him straight to TJ, seeing as it is his story. So Oli calls him.

  ‘Oli! I’ve been worried about you. Are you okay?’

  ‘TJ, did Cooper call you the other day?’ She’s practically yelling.

  ‘I’m so sorry about what happened to him, Ol, it’s just awful. They think it was a mugging, right?’

  ‘Did he call you, TJ? About O’Brien?’

  ‘We had a conversation.’ TJ sounds perplexed. ‘Downstairs in the newsroom. He asked a bunch of questions about whether I’d ever come across any suggestion that O’Brien was linked to a porn ring or whether any of his ministers and senior staffers had been. Cooper asked if I could get him a list of staff names from a few years back. Why?’

  The anchor drops deeper in Oli’s gut. ‘Did you? Did you get him the list?’

  ‘I didn’t have a chance, but he said he had a few names to run with already. He, ah, he said not to mention it to you. Oli, what’s going on? Is this porn thing legit? Please let me help, I feel terrible about the past few weeks. I’ve acted like a total wanker.’

  Suddenly all her irritation toward TJ fades away. She’s known him for so long, and despite his ego and the office politics there is genuine care and respect between them. Plus, she desperately needs an ally. She gathers her things, feeling short of breath. ‘Okay, look, I know it sounds crazy but I think the housemates were selling pornography. Photos of kids they were babysitting. My source claims high-profile people were involved, but I don’t know how far it goes. Find out whatever you can. Dawn’s blocking me, but we can meet up later. Away from the office.’

  ‘But, Oli—’

  ‘I’ve got to go.’

  AUGUST 2004

  Funny how you can suddenly become someone you never thought you’d be. Do things you never thought you’d do, good and bad. Like that time Alex slapped her foster sister across the face when she told everyone Alex stole the biscuits from the kitchen. Or that time in high school when she realised she actually understood how to do the equations Mr Ayles was writing on the board.

  Progress, thinks Alex, it’s all progress. New things.

  The professor explains what he wants them to do. The terms are clear: refuse, and they can kiss their future at the university goodbye. He has more than enough evidence to get them expelled. He also hinted at his ability to get them in trouble with the police, mentioning another student that found herself facing unexpected drug charges. Do what he asks, and there is serious money to be made. They stand in his office, breathing in the stale air, listening to him describe how it works. How it is foolproof.

  The three of them leave his office in silence. Everything feels different. The air, the light.

  ‘See you at the house, I’ve got class,’ says Evelyn, fleeing to the bathroom. Alex can tell she’s upset.

  Alex and Nicole walk side by side down the scuffed corridor.

  ‘Fucking hell,’ Alex says.

  ‘I know,’ Nicole says. ‘It’s insane.’

  ‘Do you think he’s serious?’

  ‘Absolutely. We do it, or we’re screwed. I think he could stitch us up way beyond just being kicked out of uni. You heard him.’

  Alex laughs, the sound hollow and wrong. She laughs again.

  ‘I think we have to,’ Nicole says. ‘I mean, he’s right, it’s not like anyone gets hurt.’

  Alex recognises her pragmatic tone. She’s always explaining why certain things make sense.

  They push through the doors and step outside. Everything looks the same. Strangers file past. A couple lie on the grass, kissing.

  ‘We don’t want to get kicked out.’ Nicole slides her sunglasses on. ‘Or worse.’

  Alex’s nostrils flare as she inhales. Thinks about what the professor said.

  ‘We don’t have a choice,’ Nicole adds, with a resolute nod. ‘You can tell he’s not the kind of guy to mess around. I’ll sort out Evelyn, don’t worry.’ Nicole veers off toward the cafeteria. ‘Coming?’

  Alex stands still, a thousand thoughts passing through her brain in one beat. As though for a second, she is more than just Alex. Tectonic plates shift deep in the ground. Lava churns. ‘Yep.’ She follows her friend across campus, the professor’s camera heavy in her backpack.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  TUESDAY, 15 SEPTEMBER 2015

  OLI NEEDS TO LEAVE. NEEDS TO PACK HER THINGS AND LEAVE. ON some level she knows that she will need to confront Dean, that she can’t just disappear, but the primal pulsing urge is to get out. She does her best to ignore Amy and Kate’s pale faces lurking behind Dean’s in her mind. She momentarily wonders if they will care if she leaves, but this thought morphs into a more pressing question: Are they safe?

  The Toyota roars beneath her as she overtakes a delivery van on Swan Street. Its driver leers at her as she passes, a cigarette wobbling on his lip as he yells obscenities.

  Jesus, she needs to calm down. Is it really possible? Could Dean be involved in all this? And if he is, how could she not have known? She thinks about Amy’s night terrors. Could they be a result of abuse? Anxiety grips her like ice. What if Isabelle found out that Dean was harming the girls. He would have done anything to cover that up.

  God, she wishes she could talk to Cooper. She calls Lily.

  ‘Oli. Hello.’ Lily drawls. ‘This is a nice surprise. What’s been going on?’

  Her sister’s voice triggers something, a disorienting sensation, like the road beneath her is water. ‘Lily,’ she manages to choke out.

  ‘Ol?’ Lily’s voice loses all its sarcasm. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Okay.’ Oli can tell Lily is nodding. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Driving.’

  ‘You safe?’

  Oli is flooded with nostalgia. That used to be their thing. You safe? they would text each other when one got home to find the other still out. Yep, safe, the other would reply.

  It started after their mother was released from hospital, hollowed out and broken with guilt about what had been going on under her roof for all those years. About what had been done to Oli.

  Well, it had actually started before that, when Oli would wake up in the morning with a migraine and refuse to go to school, and Lily would wait for Sally to leave for work then sneak into Oli’s room, her eyes asking the question. Oli always nodded, even though she wasn’t.

  ‘I’m safe,’ she says now.

  ‘Are you working?’

  ‘No, I just left.’

  ‘Want to come over?’

  ‘Can I stay with you for a while, Lil?’ Oli wipes her nose, which has started to run. Sniffs. Tries to hold it together. Fails.

  ‘You want to come stay at our place?’ Lily asks, unable to hide her surprise.

  ‘Yes,’ Oli whispers.

  Lily talks so fast her words tumble over each other. ‘Of course, that is totally, absolutely fine. Yes, definitely.’ She takes a breath. Pauses. ‘You can stay with us for as long as you want.’

  ‘Are you sure Shaun won’t mind?’

  ‘I don’t give a shit if he does mind.’

  Oli laughs through her tears. ‘Thank you,’ she whispers. She reaches the familiar curve of the road. She’s almost at Dean’s house. Her house. A muffled whimper escapes her mouth, and she bites the side of her knuckle.

  ‘Oli, what is it? Please talk to me.’

  She gulps in some air and forces herself to focus. ‘I’m okay. I just need time to think, and there’re a few things I need to do. I’ll be at yours later.’

  The sisters hang up. Oli pulls into Survey Drive and presses the button on the front-gate remote. ‘Come on, come on,’ she whispers. God, it’s so slow. She puts her foot down and jerks the Toyota through the narrow gap while the doors are still opening, parking on an angle in front of the garage. The house looms over her, the cream façade looking dirty in the fading light.

  The moment she gets out of the car, it starts to rain. Giant drops fall from the sky and splatter messily on the dr
iveway. She stands smoking on the front porch as she stares into the downpour. The light is on upstairs at Toni’s house, and Oli wonders what she’s doing. She allows herself to admit that something probably happened between Toni and Dean after Isabelle died. Oli sucks hard on the cigarette, smoke filling her lungs. Maybe something happened between them when Isabelle was alive. Hell, maybe it’s still happening.

  ‘Evidence,’ Oli murmurs, wiping her nose and eyes. ‘There’s no actual evidence.’ Even in her own mind she is circling around the clues, not quite letting thoughts bind together. She’s aware of the desperate way her brain is trying to counteract the possibility that Dean is far from the person she thought he was. Surely, surely, the police examined every aspect of Isabelle’s death until they were satisfied he had nothing to do with it. The husband is usually under suspicion, but Dean was never a suspect, never linked to Bouris. Pages of Isabelle’s diaries roll through her thoughts. Is John O’Brien behind all this? Did he somehow recruit Dean when they used to work together? Amy and Kate appear in her mind again, and she shakes her head. No, no. She just can’t see it. He’s not capable of this kind of evil. Even if O’Brien is involved, she’s sure Dean isn’t.

  Another thought slams in: the twins might not be his biological children. Maybe Isabelle used donor sperm. If the girls aren’t his, does that change things? Probably not. It certainly hadn’t stopped Oli’s father.

  More tears come. Since the moment she met Dean, their connection has been intense and primal. Although muted over time, dulled by domesticity and proximity, it is still undeniable. But what if it’s a trick? What if she’s somehow drawn to danger because of what happened to her?

  She sways, her knees threatening to buckle. Smoke hits her lungs, and she holds it there for a moment. The rosebushes along the front garden bed are perfectly spaced, giant white buds on the brink of bursting open. Dean loves those roses. Last year, when she was still living in her apartment, he would bring her one every week and present it to her when she opened the door. A sweet, small gesture that drove her crazy. They are probably Isabelle’s roses.