The Housemate

by Sarah Bailey

  Melbourne Today understands that Horrowitz and the McCraes are alleged to have been commissioning and circulating child pornography via illegal internet sites, and that these platforms may also have been used to target and locate specific children for the purposes of kidnapping and trafficking.

  The child recently in Ms Horrowitz’s custody is unharmed and was not at the property at the time of the arrest. Her identity and suspected long-term abuse is currently being investigated. Detectives are remaining tight-lipped regarding the rumours she is missing toddler Louise Carter.

  The alleged involvement of law-enforcement officials in this investigation has reopened the debate about systemic corruption in the force and the protection of whistle-blowers. It is understood that several police officers have been targeted after lodging complaints, with various tactics used to silence them.

  Melbourne Today believes the murder of a homicide detective several years ago may be linked to police cover-ups. A major taskforce has been established to investigate, and the chief commissioner is due to provide an update at a press conference later today.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  THURSDAY, 17 SEPTEMBER 2015

  A FOOD CART RATTLES DOWN THE CORRIDOR OUTSIDE OLI’S ROOM. A nurse with hair curled tight like tiny springs noses it into the doorway. ‘Orange or apple juice, love?’

  ‘Orange, please.’

  Oli’s head still throbs but perhaps slightly less than it did yesterday. She presses the button to elevate the top section of the bed. Drinks her juice and listens to the nurse push the trolley around the ward.

  Yesterday morning, TJ came straight from the McCraes’ house to the hospital and persuaded a nurse to let him in even though it was well before visiting hours. He charmed the same nurse into bringing him a latte. Looking more haggard than Oli had ever seen him, he drank the coffee and told her about Nicole’s arrest. Then he set up his laptop on a side table. He typed while Oli dictated the exclusive. He corrected the facts and helped her fill in the details, and she closed her eyes while he read it back to her.

  She was asleep before he filed the story. Dawn was missing in action so he sent the piece straight to Joosten. When Oli woke a few hours later, TJ was curled in the hospital chair, snoring lightly, his neck bent to the left, legs stretched awkwardly out in front of him.

  Lily and Shaun visited in the afternoon, and they all watched the news together.

  Diana McCrae had taken a chance with Oli, concocting a story that placed her and her husband squarely in the centre of the story, hoping this would explain away their link to Nicole and any evidence that surfaced.

  Wrapped in Lily’s arms after Bowman was taken away, Oli remembered Julian saying he’d met the girl he thought was his daughter when he went to the house in Carlton, but Cara had told Oli she’d taken Evie shopping with her. Suddenly, Diana’s willingness to share her horrible secret felt sinister. Opportunistic. The notes in Isabelle’s diary made sense: she’d wanted the McCraes’ house searched for signs Louise had been there, but the request was rejected. Oli is sure Nicole went to the McCraes after Evelyn died and took Louise from them rather than going through with their original plan of selling her to someone in the network. That wouldn’t have been safe if either the McCraes or Bowman were worried Evelyn had said something about Louise before she died. Probably Bowman helped. Clearly they’d all been working together, then and now. Oli tries not to think about what had been in store for Louise before the plan changed. And she tries not to think about what Nicole has subjected her to since.

  Oli drinks her juice and eats one of the muffins Lily left for her. Chewing slowly, she watches the news on TV and scrolls through Twitter on her phone. Graphics flash up behind Manny Cho’s bald head: photos of the McCraes on holiday, smiling with their arms around each other. Next there’s a photo of Nathan. Respected couple and university leader revealed to be at the centre of child pornography ring reads the ticker along the bottom of the screen.

  Manny’s face is even more serious as he covers the next story. CHIEF INSPECTOR LINKED TO HOUSEMATE HOMICIDE. A photo of Bowman in full uniform shaking the former premier’s hand appears, followed by a statement from the Chief Commissioner of Police, who is stony-faced and simmering with rage. She abhors Bowman’s alleged actions and vows to stamp out every single hint of corruption in the force.

  Oli dozes for a while. When she wakes she calls TJ, and he tells her things that aren’t yet public. The paedophile ring is far-reaching: two priests, a high school teacher, a sports star and two high-profile businessmen have been implicated so far, but it’s suspected there are many more. Several of them met at university, including Bowman and McCrae. Three women have come forward, admitting their role in the operation; all of them were from troubled homes, needing money or desperate to avoid a low-level conviction. They sold photos of their siblings or cousins, guilt chewing away at them like a tumour.

  A significant amount of pornographic content featuring Louise has been found online. The photographs range from her as a toddler to now. Presumably, taken and distributed by Nicole in exchange for money.

  Oli pushes the food away, closes her eyes and imagines the torrid virtual rubble her peers are trawling through—the relentless leads and fact checking, the cautious lawyers stamping their feet. No one in the media is going to get much sleep over the next few days.

  She falls into a restless nap. Oli’s dreams and memories mix with the news updates, forming a strange montage of fact and fiction.

  She emerges from the fog when the afternoon news anchor says Isabelle’s name. Her case is officially being reopened. Links to organised crime and police force corruption are being explored. Tears run down Oli’s face.

  By evening the news sites have exploded with think pieces pondering how the housemates could have committed the ultimate betrayal. The Sun is launching a podcast called Evil Women: Why They Do It.

  Overall, there’s more outrage about the women involved than the male instigators.

  Feeling a little stronger, Oli eats her dinner. Afterwards, she stares out the window at the city. Time feels slippery. Out of order. The scene at the house with Bowman and Nathan seems like it happened weeks ago. Before she fell asleep last night, one of the nurses told her that Dean’s surgery went well, that he’s been asking for her. She flicks her phone to silent and slides it across the bedside table. A nub of apprehension is forming in her gut. Dean’s mother is bringing the girls in to visit him tomorrow; they want to see her too.

  Oli changes the channel and tries to focus on a cooking show, but now all she can think about is Dean.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  FRIDAY, 18 SEPTEMBER 2015

  OLI ZIPS UP THE BAG THAT LILY BROUGHT HER AND SQUARES HER shoulders. The doctor has given her the all clear, but she’s still a little fragile, as if she can’t rely on her reflexes.

  ‘I really think we should just go home,’ says Lily, wringing her hands.

  ‘No, I want to see him. Will you wait for me?’

  ‘Of course.’ Lily nods several times. ‘I’ll have some more terrible coffee in the cafe downstairs. Do you know how much parking is here per day? Honestly, it’s outrageous. It’s not like people are coming here to gamble.’ She complains all the way to the lift. ‘I saw on Facebook that all these fan pages have popped up for Nicole. People who reckon she’s innocent.’

  ‘People are strange,’ Oli replies. If Cooper were here, he’d be obsessing over the different factions, planning out the next podcast episode with her. There’s still no update on his killer—no doubt someone from Bowman’s extensive network of evil. Oli hates the thought they might never know; his parents deserve the tiny shred of closure a name will provide.

  Lily heads down to the ground floor, and Oli makes her way to the third level and asks for directions to room seventeen.

  The doctor explained Dean’s injuries to her this morning. The bullet missed his major arteries but lodged deep in his thigh. Despite the life-saving tourniquet he made,
he lost a lot of blood. He also hit the back of his skull and needed seventeen stitches. Infection is still a risk, but he should make a full recovery.

  Oli steps into the room. Dean is awake, sitting upright in the bed. She stifles a gasp. His head is shaved, his scalp alien-white. The left side of his face is dark with a bruise that stretches from his temple to the curve of his cheekbone.

  Oli sits gingerly in the seat next to the bed. Takes his hand.

  ‘Jesus Christ, I hate what they did to you, Oli.’ Anger ripples across Dean’s face, and he winces. He squeezes her hands gently.

  She knows she looks terrible, with a ferocious black eye and a bulky dressing that covers the stitches along her hairline. ‘I’m okay,’ she says. ‘How do you feel?’

  ‘Like shit.’

  ‘How do you think the girls are going?’ Oli asks. She endured their awkward visit earlier, Mary hovering in the doorway.

  He rolls his eyes to the ceiling. ‘I don’t know. They seem okay, but this must be bringing up some bad memories.’ Tears shimmer in his eyes, and he grips her hands. ‘I love you, Oli.’

  A familiar feeling erupts in her chest: desire, and the heat of being wanted. It’s so tempting to surrender to it, to let it take over and relinquish all responsibility for what happens next. ‘I know you do,’ she whispers.

  ‘I can’t wait to get out of here and have everything go back to normal.’

  She forces herself to look at him. ‘I don’t think that’s possible.’

  He blinks. ‘I had no idea about Nath, Oli, no idea. About any of it. I still can’t believe it. I’m pretty sure the emergency he asked me to come back for was completely bogus. He was trying to create trouble between us.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘I’ll be home in a couple of days. Not as agile, obviously, but I’m fit so I should recover pretty quickly.’ He gestures to the laptop on the side table. ‘I’ve been reading up on gunshot wounds. Hopefully by our holiday I’ll be close to full strength.’

  ‘Dean, stop.’ Oli doesn’t drop his hand, but she looks away—at the window, the door. Anywhere but his beautiful eyes.

  ‘Oli,’ his upbeat tone shifts swiftly to pleading, ‘help me out here. I don’t know what to do. I feel so lost and sick about everything.’

  ‘I’m sorry you’re hurt, I really am, but you lied to me. You never told me you can’t have kids.’

  He stops moving and closes his eyes. ‘I know, but I was worried it would make you change your mind about being with me. I wanted everything to be perfect. Plus you did say you weren’t sure you wanted to have a baby anyway.’

  ‘Not being sure and not being able to is quite different.’

  ‘I really am sorry,’ he says.

  Oli swallows past the giant lump in her throat. ‘It’s not just that.’

  Tension ripples down his arms, and he pulls his hands away. ‘You’re the one who thought I was capable of god knows what, Oli.’

  They face off angrily, both taking deep breaths.

  ‘I was wrong,’ she says finally. ‘But what does it say about our relationship that I could even think it? We don’t trust each other.’

  He bites his lip. ‘I’ll do anything to fix this. Anything.’

  He’s a little boy in a man’s body who thinks that with enough money and enough spin, anything is fixable. She’s been addicted to him for over a decade, never quite able to put the possibility of being with him to rest. And when his perfect life imploded all those years later, he sucked her back in. She was no match for the pull of the past; all those feelings simply thawed, strong as ever. She landed right back where she’d started, and Dean—confident, self-assured Dean—wasn’t about to let the one thing that stood in their way be a problem. In Dean’s world, problems are just things you throw money at until they go away.

  Isabelle’s death had rocked him, no doubt, but even that was a helpful twist of fate. He avoided a messy, reputation-damaging divorce and got to play the heroic solo father, eventually enticing Oli to replace a troublesome wife with one he thought would be far more obedient.

  ‘I’m sorry, Dean, but it’s not fixable with us.’

  ‘Because you want to have a baby.’

  She suppresses a surge of anger. ‘No, that’s not why.’ She presses her fingers gently to her aching head, wanting to explain properly. ‘I don’t want to be yours.’ His brow furrows. ‘I don’t want to be your thing. I don’t want you tracking my every move, telling me what to do.’

  ‘I don’t want that either.’

  ‘I know you’ve been tracking the car, Dean.’

  He lifts his chin, slightly defiant, but says, ‘I shouldn’t have done that. I just felt safer knowing where you were. Especially after what happened to Isabelle. Surely you can understand that?’

  Despite the earnest look on his face, Oli knows that her safety isn’t the reason he wants to know her every move.

  ‘You want a woman who does what she’s told and is happy to turn a blind eye to whatever takes your fancy,’ she says softly. ‘It wasn’t Isabelle, and it’s not me.’

  ‘Oli, it’s always been you. Come on, you must know that by now.’

  The years of longing flare. ‘Except when it wasn’t. Which was a really long time. No, Dean, I’m sorry, but it’s not what I want.’

  He looks stunned. ‘Are you sure you’re thinking straight right now? This feels like something we should talk about when I’m home.’

  ‘I’m sure.’ She holds his gaze.

  He swallows and sniffs, pulling at the end of his nose. ‘I have no idea what I’ll tell the girls.’

  Oli tucks her hair behind her ears. ‘You should tell them the truth.’ She feels the question in her mouth, uncomfortable like cotton wool. But in the end, it stays there. Whether the girls are Dean’s biological children or not doesn’t change anything. She doesn’t need to know.

  ‘I can give you everything you want, Oli.’ His deep voice is firm, certain; the voice he uses for work calls, or when he’s at a restaurant ordering wine. The trademark conviction that she found so magnetic. ‘Everything,’ he adds.

  ‘You need to look after the girls,’ she says, her voice firm. ‘And yourself.’

  His eyes turn red. ‘I can’t believe this.’

  ‘I wish things were different,’ she offers. ‘I’m sorry this has to happen now, but it does.’

  ‘Oli, please.’

  ‘I’ve got to get going.’

  ‘Home?’

  She shakes her head. ‘To Lily’s. I was going to leave before all this.’

  He visibly deflates. ‘What about your things?’

  ‘We’ll sort all that out later.’ She thinks of the ring wrapped in a tissue down the side of her suitcase which is probably still somewhere at Dean’s. Or perhaps the cops have it.

  Dean looks bewildered. She kisses his hand, places it on the bed. Looks back at him as she leaves. He’s staring straight ahead, eyes wide, mouth slightly open.

  As Oli walks to the lift, she doesn’t feel sad, just numb. Like her insides have been scooped out.

  Lily jumps up the second she sees her. ‘How’d you go? Quick, let’s go before we tick into another hour. It’s already going to cost me sixteen bucks.’

  They walk side by side.

  Lily jabs at the button to the downstairs car park. She looks sideways at Oli before saying quietly, ‘I just saw a news report confirming the girl is Louise Carter. They’ve done tests.’

  Oli nods. Doesn’t trust herself to speak.

  Cooper’s funeral is tomorrow. She needs to get through that, then decide what happens next.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  FIVE WEEKS LATER

  OLI FINISHES HER COFFEE, SIGHS AND RE-READS THE PARAGRAPH she just typed. She hasn’t been crippled by this type of palpable anxiety about her writing for years. In some ways it feels good to care so much, for the stakes to be so high. On the other hand, it feels like jumping out of a plane without a parachute.

  She and T
J have gone around the grounds on everything from the name of their new business to whether they should bother to set up a landline number. And now it’s less than twenty-four hours until the launch.

  ‘We’re a modern newsroom, and for a while at least there’s only the three of us,’ TJ said last week, his eyes virtually falling out of his head after another lengthy planning session. ‘I think we just list our mobile numbers and be done with it.’

  ‘I agree,’ Chelsea mumbled from her spot on the couch at TJ’s place, where she was coding their website.

  ‘We will grow, though,’ Oli countered.

  ‘So we’ll sort out a different phone number, then.’ TJ yawned.

  ‘We need to settle on some target numbers,’ she reminded him. ‘What do you think, two thousand subscribers in the first two weeks? We’ve already hit over three hundred.’

  ‘No way—two thousand subscribers on day one,’ he replied, grinning.

  ‘Serial had over a million downloads in the first week,’ Chelsea said. She shrugged her tattooed shoulders. ‘Just saying.’

  Dawn was stood down from Melbourne Today a week after Bowman’s arrest. It was ostensibly due to the restructure but no doubt hurried along by the fact he was blackmailing her to bury certain stories, as well as feeding her convenient leads now and then. A few years ago he’d learned she had recently accepted a bribe from a senior figure in the Catholic Church to pull a story on alleged abuse at a suburban church, and Bowman had agreed to keep quiet if she did him a favour from time to time.

  Neither TJ nor Oli wanted Dawn’s role. They handed in their resignation to Joosten together. He wished them the best of luck, confirming that the paper would be sold within months and that its future was uncertain. The poor man looked close to tears.

  Thirty people were let go from the paper a week later, and Chelsea Waters, Cooper’s colleague and film club friend, was one of them. Within forty-eight hours she was talking Oli and TJ through an unsolicited twenty-slide PowerPoint presentation and a social media strategy for their new business. Her contagious energy was the kick they needed.