A dead teenager. An exclusive community. Was it really an accident?
A dead teenager. An exclusive community. Was it really an accident?
When Sudanese-Australian student Aro Chol is found dead at the foot of the prestigious Chilton Hill estate, local journalist Audrey Lord is first on the scene. Residents claim he was trying to break in. The police suspect a fall. At police request, Audrey agrees to report it as an accident—for now.
But Aro was no criminal. He was a bright student with big dreams—not someone who’d throw his future away for a petty crime. Sneaking into one of the wealthiest, most tightly secured homes on the Mornington Peninsula doesn’t add up.
As Audrey digs deeper, she uncovers a web of buried tensions among Chilton Hill’s elite, within Aro’s former community, and even inside his own family. With race tensions rising and public pressure mounting, everyone has something to hide and everyone wants to control the story.
She wants to give Aro’s family answers. But if she’s wrong, it could cost her career and leave a killer free to strike again.
Prologue
The gulls came first. One, then two, then a frenzied mob, circling and shrieking as they landed on the rocks below. Sam Worthington noticed them as he stepped onto the balcony with his coffee, the early light flattening the ocean into silver-blue glass. The air was already too warm for autumn and the scent of salt and damp earth still clung to the breeze.
They were making a racket.
He frowned. Something had stirred them.
From Port Phillip Bay, Chilton Hill rose like a bell curve from the highway and the sprawl of Bennington, flattening enough at the top for a dozen luxury homes to perch in defiance of gravity. Sam’s house sat dead centre, commanding views of the city to the right, the Peninsula to the left, and open water ahead. The others envied him. Rightfully so.
The only thing the well-heeled residents of Chilton Hill shared with the working-class chaos below was a postcode. Down in Bennington, they dealt with drugs, robberies, and the occasional serial killer. But here, there were other threats.
Erosion, for one.
The cliff edge, sandy clay and ancient rock, laced with slate and quartz, was known to shift. Vegetation covered the bluff like a nervous comb-over, but the truth gnawed beneath. One day, Sam suspected, part of this hill would shear off and collapse into the bay. He hoped he’d be long gone by then.
He glanced again at the gulls, flapping and shrieking. His gut prickled.
Behind him, the sliding door rasped open. Mary stepped out with two coffees, her bare feet whispering against the tiles.
“Here you go,” she said, handing him the long black.
Even after all these years, she took his breath away. His mother once called her Jackie O. His father muttered “out of your league” for years.
“I never tire of this view,” Mary said, sipping hers.
Neither did Sam. Though lately, the view unsettled him. Something about its vastness. Its fragility.
Mary leaned on the railing, squinting toward the rocks. “What’s going on down there?”
“Seagulls,” he said. “Probably found some bread.”
“They’re making a fuss. More than usual.”
“They always do. Come inside. I was thinking breakfast in the village?”
She didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed fixed on the rocks. “I’ve never seen that many seagulls, Sam.”
He joined her. The sun glared off the water.
Then he saw it—a smear of colour beneath the birds. A white blur drifting past, caught in the tide.
Mary gasped. “Is that—? Sam! Is that blood?”
She pointed, her voice sharp now. “There’s someone down there!”
Sam followed her finger. At first, it didn’t register.
Then it did.
A dark shape, sprawled on the rocks. Face down. A charcoal hoodie. Track pants. Black runners with a blue stripe. The stain beside him marooned the granite.
The boy wasn’t moving.
“It’s a kid,” Mary whispered. “A teenager, maybe. Oh my God.”
She turned and rushed inside, already calling the police.
Sam didn’t move.
He stared at the boy’s neck, his arms splayed unnaturally. His mind ticked through the only answer that made sense.
A break-in. One of those gangs on the news. Tried to escape and fell.
It had to be that.
Didn’t it?