‘The bus from Hakea will be here soon, but there’s a few more things we need to ask,’ Stevie said as a uniformed officer escorted Robert Mason into one of Central’s interview rooms.

She glanced at Tash and gave her a discreet nod. It would be interesting to see how she handled their pre-planned tactics, if she could strike the right balance in her ‘bad cop’ role. It would also be a good indication of how seriously Tash had taken her earlier warning. This was a fact-finding mission only and hard as it might be, it was paramount that they leave their personal prejudices outside the interview room door.

The uniformed officer pushed Mason into a chair and closed the door behind him. Mason leaned on the table and pushed his fingers through his spiky hair, looking first at Tash then at Stevie.

‘You two again?’ he whined. ‘I’ve admitted it, I’m gonna plead guilty, what more do you want?’ Swamped in regulation overalls, he looked ridiculously young, almost young enough to be a victim himself.

Stevie couldn’t have cared less.

‘Just a few more questions, that’s all,’ she said.

‘But shouldn’t my lawyer be here?’ Mason looked around the barren interview room as if his lawyer might appear out of one of the sludge green walls.

‘It’s okay, we’ve discussed this with him, it doesn’t involve your actual case.’

‘Then w-what...’

‘Cooperate with us now and I guarantee it will be taken into consideration during the trial,’ Stevie said.

He was interested; Stevie could tell by the way his deep brown eyes stopped flitting around the room to focus on hers. Tash had called them ‘gravy eyes’, but bottomless cesspools might be a more appropriate term, Stevie reflected, keeping her face blank.

He touched his brow. ‘I have a headache.’

‘I’ll get you something for it in a minute,’ she said. When she was ready to get him something, she would, and not before. To get the optimum amount of information from him he had to be shown that his every physical need was under their control.

‘How can I make this easier?’ he asked.

‘A young girl’s body was found in a builder’s skip yesterday. She was the victim of a paedophile,’ Stevie said.

His eyes widened with panic. ‘You had me locked up yesterday, I couldn’t have done it!’

‘No one’s saying you did, but this murderer and you seem to share a similar approach...’

‘So?’

‘Listen to Sergeant Hooper!’

Stevie tensed, expecting a barrage of Tash’s dirtiest insults: rock spider, hanging Johnny, shit head, scum of the earth. She let out a silent sigh of relief when none seemed forthcoming. Well done, Tash.

‘We think you’re involved with some kind of Internet club where people like you can swap information and methods of picking up kids,’ Stevie said.

Mason wriggled in his seat, adjusting his overalls in the crotch area. ‘There are groups like that all over the net.’

‘But this one is locally based and contains a list of chat rooms and websites frequented by Perth kids. In fact, I think you got the address of the Stoned Mullets chat room visited by Angel12 from this site, yeah?’

He looked away.

Tash circled the table like a shark. During an interrogation, detectives can move around as much as they like but they can insist the suspect remain seated. It was all a part of the tactics of maintaining control.

‘You can probably also obtain photographs from this site,’ Tash said, keeping her voice level. ‘You had two hundred and fifty photos of children on your computer ranging from soft to hardcore abuse and everything in between.’

‘They’re just pictures,’ Mason mumbled.

Tash placed her palms on the table and leaned in towards him. ‘Oh yeah, so they have no grounding in reality; that’s what you’re trying to say?’

‘Yeah, well kinda...’

Tash slammed her hands upon the table, making Mason start. Good one, Tash, Stevie thought, that’s just the right amount of fright we want from him. Too much and he’ll clam up all together. She caught Tash’s eye and mouthed, ‘My turn.’

Tash stepped back and leaned against the wall, rubbing her stinging palms.

‘Strangely enough it’s the soft stuff we’re interested in at the moment,’ Stevie said. ‘Our experts tell us that these photos bear a strong resemblance to each other, were taken in the same location and probably by the same photographer.’

‘Soft, what do you mean soft?’ He looked at the detectives blankly until realisation finally dawned. ‘Oh, you mean the art shots?’

Tash pushed herself from the wall. ‘That’s what you call them, art shots? Now it’s high culture is it? Give me a break!’

‘You can’t say there’s anything wrong with them—Jesus, what’s wrong with you people? The kids are dressed...’

‘Yes, Robert, most are dressed, but often in revealing, sexualised clothes and provocatively posed,’ Stevie said.

She saw the ‘art’ pictures lined up in her head, in particular a snap of a little girl sitting up proud and straight in her school uniform, like the one she had of Izzy on her mantelpiece. It was innocent, it was unsuspecting and it made her stomach lurch. ‘If we can find the source of these art shots we might also be able to nail the origin of the hardcore photos and videos,’ she said.

‘I don’t know where any of the photos come from, the webmaster ups them.’ Mason’s voice rose. ‘But jeez, what’s the big deal about all this? I’ve never even touched a kid, all I do is look at pictures.’

‘But you were planning on doing more than look at Angel12, weren’t you?’ Tash asked.

‘Look, it was just an experiment, right? If anything had happened with her, it would have been what she wanted too.’

‘What, with the help of money, drugs, CDs?’ Tash said.

They were getting off the point; if the interrogation were to turn to Mason’s court case, they’d be obliged to turn the tape on. Stevie guided Mason back to where she wanted him.

‘We think the man who murdered Bianca Webster might belong to this Internet group of yours. Your computer log shows us you visit a site called the Dream Team—you may’ve run your files through a shredding program, making the information hard to access, but it’s not impossible.’

‘Next time buy a better shredding program, Mason—though I suppose there’s not much left in the coffers once you’re done spending up on kiddie porn,’ Tash said.

‘It’s not porn, why do you have to make it sound so degrading? It’s all just natural, kids are still sexual beings, they enjoy it, just like the rest of us,’ Mason said.

Tash clenched her fists at her sides. ‘Oh yeah, the girl being raped in the video looked like she was having the time of her life.’

‘I don’t know how that clip got there, someone must have planted it. I don’t do violence.’

Tash consciously unclenched her fists. ‘I was called to the hospital not long ago, to a toddler who’d been so brutally sodomised he’ll be wearing a colostomy bag for the rest of his life.’

‘And I’m not into boys either.’

Tash slammed her fist onto the table again, ramming her face up close to his. The pulse throbbing through the flush at her neck looked fit to burst; she wasn’t playacting. ‘You just don’t get it do you? People like you should be burned alive!’

Stevie pulled her away from the table. Tash rubbed both hands over her face and took a breath. ‘I’m okay,’ she murmured, shaking her head when Stevie offered to continue.

To Stevie’s relief, Tash changed tack, dropping the subject of the rape video; they’d been through it with him before and maybe it was a one off. ‘Our experts will be able to piece together the data from your computer, but it would save time if you just gave us the information,’ Tash said, in control again.

‘I can give you the password, but I don’t think you’ll get much further than the home page. There’s all sorts of security there—even I couldn’t get through it.’