-He's okay now. He's been under some stress, apparently.

-Oh. But it's all okay?

-Yes. How's everything here?

-Well, there's something you need to have a look at, Sergeant Rosales said, and produced the file from behind his back.

-What is it, Sergeant? Does it need my attention now?

Rosales put the fingerprint report on his boss's desk and slid it across to him.

Salvatore opened the report.

-Which case is this?

-One of the young rape victims. She called triple-oh yesterday saying that one of the attackers had contacted her and was on his way to her workplace. A patrol was sent but they were unable to locate him. He'd come to hand over a mobile phone to the victim - it had been stolen from her during the attack. We just got the report back from forensics. There's a partial print on it. Abdullah Najib. We'll have to get her in to ID him, but it looks like he's one of them.

-This is the same boy, isn't it? The little p.r.i.c.k who broke my front window. Unbelievable. Oh, Jesus, Sergeant. Mia. My daughter.

-We'll pick him up, boss.

-Hang on. We've only got a partial print, right? This little a.r.s.ehole won't agree to an ID parade, so we'll have to get the victims to look at some photos. We don't have to get all the girls down here at once - but as soon as one of them makes an ID we'll pick him up. Oh, and make sure that, ah - Patrick White - is in the photo array for all the girls other than the one who knows him.

-Done and done, Rosales replied, moving towards the door.

-Actually, this victim, the one who had the phone stolen, she said she'd gone with the boys to use an illegal substance, didn't she? Sergeant, get that White down here for more questioning. I believe he's still on probation, so we can bring him in. He admitted to knowing one of the other victims; see if he has any connection with this one. And if he's still dealing drugs he certainly won't be after this. Jose, I've had it up to here with this. Rapes, drugs. This is the suburbs - where families are trying to make a living and have a b.l.o.o.d.y home.

Tennille Baxter looked at the photos. They lacked the colour of real people. They wore expressions that could not be identified.

-That guy's eyes - maybe, she said tentatively, and rubbed her own eyes.

-You recognise this guy? Rosales prompted.

-I dunno.

-Take your time. It's okay.

Tennille had decided that she would go ahead with the charge if they caught them. But she wished the cops would just arrest the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. She didn't want this. She didn't want to have to look at photos, and especially not here, in this police station. The last time she was here was the night of the rape.

-Are these guys suspects? They don't even look like they're, you know, police photos.

-Well, Miss, we can't show you photos that suggest that the people in them have been under arrest. But we wouldn't show you any photos unless we needed to.

Tennille looked at them again. Several of the suspects were ethnic, and a few Anglo-Aussies. She pushed these aside. Then she noticed the slight smile on one of the remaining photos. It was the smile of the first guy.

-This guy, she said, he's not the one who had my phone, but he was one of them.

-This one?

-Yes. Well, I thin- -Thank you, Miss Baxter.

TWENTY-SEVEN.

-Abdullah Najib, you've been detained here at Western Plateau Local Patrol for the purpose of an interview. You can decline to answer our questions if you wish. You are not under arrest. My name is Sergeant Rosales. This interview will be videotaped. Do you understand?

-What's decline mean?

-It means it's up to you if you wish to answer our questions.

-Depends on what the questions are.

-Do you agree to the interview?

-I'll tell ya when I won't answer ya questions.

-Okay, Abdullah, can you tell me what you were doing on the twenty-sixth of May this year?

-Nuh. Don't keep a diary.

-Have you ever been to Rooty Hill Plaza?

-Dunno, maybe.

-Have you ever taken young women for a drive in your car? Young women you met at Rooty Hill Plaza?

-Plenty!

-So, yes?

-I guess, why?

-Have you ever smoked marijuana with young women and then propositioned them for s.e.x?

-Maybe - nuh.

-Have you ever forced young women to perform acts of a s.e.xual nature against their will?

-Ah - nuh.

-Okay, mate. Why don't you tell me what you did do with the young women you had in your car, then.

-Nuthin. If any chicks have said anything, they're bulls.h.i.tting.

-But you're not?

-That's right.

-Well, we've got your mate next door. The boss is talking to him right now. What if he says differently?

-What mate?

-Your mate you score the drugs off.

Abdullah felt adrenaline jab through his veins. He hadn't thought of this. That they would bring in the other boys. My mate I score the drugs off? he thought. I don't score off n.o.body. It gets given to me. Fadi gets pot off the skips at his work since my cousin had to stop selling. Fadi's in there? Next door, being drilled too? That f.u.c.king c.u.n.t. He's already told them about the weed. He'll f.u.c.kin' tell them everything, the p.u.s.s.y.

-Look. We did take some chicks for a ride. But whatever they said happened, they wanted it. They knew.

-And what was it, Abdullah? What did they want?

-You know. s.e.x.

-So you did have s.e.x with the young girls you met at Rooty Hill Plaza?

-Yeah. But they let us. They were s.l.u.ts.

-Can you tell me their names, Abdullah?

-I dunno - Tenni, Melissa, those chicks?

-Okay, Adbullah Najib, I'm terminating this interview and informing you that you are now under arrest. You will be detained here at Western Plateau Local Patrol.

-Is Fadi under arrest too?

-Fadi who?

-My mate, you said is next door being questioned.

-His name isn't Fadi, but I think we should get this Fadi down here and ask him a few questions.

TWENTY-EIGHT.

Whitey left the cop station and headed straight for Booze World. The f.u.c.kwits came to get him at work. The pigs actually came into the shop and told the boss they needed to talk to Mr Patrick Irvine White. It was close to knock-off time, but he'd still get docked for leaving fifteen minutes early. Whitey doubted he'd keep his job after this. Sacked 'cause the pigs were stupid, stupid f.u.c.kwits. Whatever the f.u.c.k that was, it had f.u.c.k-all to do with him. Going on and on about Natalie and some other chicks. Giving me a p.i.s.s test. Asking about Lebanese blokes who I sell to. Same s.h.i.t as last time. And some other c.r.a.p about forcing women to have s.e.x. For a second Whitey had feared that Sonja's parents were trying to have him charged. But the questions were too wide of the mark for that. The only worry was the p.i.s.s test. He hadn't had a smoke for a few days, but it was probably still in his system. Well, they'd let him go for now. But the p.r.i.c.ks wouldn't give any doc.u.mentation to prove that they'd f.u.c.ked-up. His boss'd never believe that he was innocent of whatever it was they'd pulled him out of work for.

He was close to tears, but turned them back inside to evaporate into anger.

It was a fair walk to Booze World, but Whitey was flying. He could already see the barn-style roof reflecting the whiteness of the twilighting sun over the grey-green suburb.

-Whitey, mate. Haven't seen you in donkeys, Agro said, slapping the counter with his meat-tray hands.

-Yeah. How ya been? Whitey asked. He felt better. He had friends in the drug and alcohol industry.

-Not bad, mate. Not bad. What ya after?

-Somethin' ta get wasted.

-That's the spirit. In fact, I've got just the spirit for it. Agro pointed to the floor stack of Wild Turkey. Twenty-four bucks fa you, mate.

-Sold. I'll get a couple a cans for the walk too, Whitey said, taking his hands out of his pockets and grabbing a bottle.

-So. Got a job? Agro nodded at Whitey's Greedos garb.

-Maybe not fa much longer.

-That good, hey?

He could hear the voices in his flat as he approached the door. Sonja's brother and sister were over again. He put his key in and turned the worn lock.

-Patrick, Sonja said. What happened? The police were looking for you.

-So you told them where I work? Whitey grunted and put the bottle on the kitchenette bench.

-Of course not. I did let it slip that you were at work. They asked me where you worked but I said I didn't know. They said they'd check with the Welfare Centre.

-I've told you, don't trust 'em.

-I'm sorry. But I didn't tell them, Patrick, I promise.

-Yeah, okay.

-So what was it about? she asked, and ran her fingers through her sister's hair.

-I have no f.u.c.kin' idea.

-h.e.l.lo, Patrick, Polly said.

-Hi, Poll. Sorry for the bad language.

-h.e.l.lo, Patrick, Peter said.

-Hi, Pete.

Whitey opened the bottle and poured a gla.s.s half full of bourbon. He added a dash of c.o.ke.

Sonja turned toward her sister and whispered something. Whitey snarled and drank off the gla.s.s. He poured another.

-Let's go back home, Sonja said, and touched her brother's shoulder.