* * *
After her visit to Chloe, Judith went to the university’s admin office and confirmed what she feared. There was no registration for a student named Alexis Turner. Alexis had lied about her name and her address. If Judith couldn’t track her down, the case was over and done with, unless another complainant came forward. Judith wondered who the woman in the video was. The encounter in the consulting rooms had appeared to be entirely consensual. If the woman was a patient, then Walker had stomped all over every ethical guideline, but Judith couldn’t charge him for that. Chloe—and the comments on her post—had said that rumours about Walker had been going around campus for years. There must be other victims out there. She had to hope that the women she’d messaged would respond.
There was a coffee shop in the building next door to Chloe’s apartment. Judith bought a long black and sat on the low wall outside and thought things through. She’d have no choice but to close the case in a day or two, if Alexis failed to reappear and no one else came forward. She’d have to close the case and Walker would get away with it, again. He wouldn’t change though, these guys never did. Which meant there would be another girl, at some point. Some other girl who needed help and got him instead.
No.
She wasn’t going to let that happen. Judith crossed her legs and settled into a comfortable position. She made her call.
‘Judith?’
‘Mike. How’re things?’
‘Things are good. Better if you have something for me.’
Mike Russo was a reporter forThe Australian. He also had a very popular weekly Substack where he published his more scurrilous stories, the kind of thing that would definitely have seen him sued, if it weren’t for the light veneer of quasi-anonymity he applied to the subjects of his pieces. Reading his Substack and trying to figure out who was who was a favourite weekend activity for fully half of Melbourne.
‘I’ve got something for you. Robert Walker.’
‘Name means nothing to me, babe.’
‘Husband of Vanessa Walker.’
‘Ooh. Okay. I’m listening.’
‘He’s a psychologist. Works at the university. He’s about to be charged with sexually assaulting a student who came to him for counselling.’About to be chargedwas a stretch, but she had to give him something.
‘Fuuuuuck.Are you sure?’
‘Do you need me to be?’
‘Sure is a bonus. Sure is nice.’
‘He’s done it before. Only last time the victim didn’t run with it. If he’s done it twice... well, what are the chances there are more victims out there?’
‘And you want me to help you find them?’
Judith sipped her coffee.
‘Always happy to oblige, babe, you know that.’
Chapter Nine
On Thursday morning, the last segment onLet’s Talk, Australiawas about the annual guide dog fundraising drive. Which meant lots of heartwarming shots of guide dogs going about their duties, and, inevitably, dogs in the studio. Vanessa and her co-host, Ava, held up wriggling labrador puppies and smiled and cooed and waited for it to be over.
‘Oh my god, I want tokeepone!’ Ava gushed prettily. She held her puppy higher and closer, so that it would lick her face. ‘So many kisses!’
Vanessa sighed inwardly and smiled for the cameras. Ava was the worst. She was thirty-two, and she had an honours degree in physics, a masters in pure maths, and another masters in journalism, but when the cameras were on her she gushed like a cheerleader. She was saccharine sweet to your face, always, but the real Ava was one per cent charm and ninety-nine per cent vicious ambition. She would kill her own grandmother and yours to get ahead.
Out of the corner of her eye, Vanessa spotted Penelope watching from the back of the room, a grim look on her face.
Vanessa smiled into the camera. ‘Thanks so much for joining us on what has to be my favourite day of the year. And tomorrow...’ She turned to Ava.
‘Tomorrow, we’ll be talking to James Allen about his time with the Wallabies, and what lies next for him in retirement. Spoiler! It won’t be what you think! And of course we’ll be joined by Alicia, who’ll be beaming into our living rooms, right from the red carpet in Hollywood!’
Vanessa and Ava aimed warm smiles right down the camera until the floor producer said, ‘We’re out,’ and the camera lights switched from green to red. Ava immediately dropped her puppy on the couch like it was scalding her.
‘That little bastard shit on my dress,’ she said, standing and peering down at a suspicious looking stain.
