The end of January came quickly. Initially, Mairead had suggested that Rosemonde take even more time off work, but she soon saw that Rosemonde needed a distraction. Mairead did not want her assistant playing amateur sleuth, so she had kept her impossibly busy.

Drew was also concerned. "That message was downright disturbing. Then there's mum's vision... Whatever is going on, is dangerous. I know it's hard, but you really need to let the cops handle this, Rosemonde. Why don't you stay here for a while? For mum, yeah? This has really shaken her up. I'd really appreciate it, and I'm sure mum would feel more at ease if you weren't alone right now," he'd pleaded.

"Oh, of course! If it will make Ms Wilson more comfortable...." Rosemonde had complied with his suggestion to stay, without realising that he too would be staying. Knowing that he'd be away for nearly two years, Drew had rented out his waterfront property.

Sign Ahead wanted to take advantage of the fact that this was a leap year, to promote their latest album, Leap of Faith. The official launch would occur at a spectacular star-studded party to be held on the 29th of February. Twenty-nine lucky fans would win entry to the invitation-only event in Sydney. The promotional competition had already begun via all the major radio stations. There would also be the obligatory interviews and televised appearances. It seemed logical for Drew to just stay where he was.

He continued to provide Rosemonde with steady support, and their friendship was growing. She enjoyed Drew's company and was excited to meet the rest of the band. Her organisational skills were put to good use, when their manager asked and received Mairead's permission, to use the grounds of her property, as the backdrop for a popular magazine photo shoot, that he had secured. Rosemonde was pleasantly surprised when Myrddin turned out to be the photographer.

"Is there anyone you're not working for these days?" she laughed.

"The joys of being freelance," he smiled and kissed her hello.

Mairead usually made herself scarce when company came to the house, but she had taken an interest in Myrddin and watched him closely when he called on Rosemonde. The trance states were rare now. She was becoming more adept at feeling her visions coming on, so neither Rosemonde nor Drew was concerned for her, in the presence of their guests.

When Myrddin told the band to take a break, Mairead called out to Rosemonde and asked her to come to the library with her.

"Is everything alright Ms Wilson?"

"Your young man.-"

"Myrddin?"

"Yes. He will lead you to Summer. I have seen it."

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"He will find her and it will be...traumatic. I am sorry, but it's best that you are prepared."

"She's alive- "

"ROSEMONDE!" Rosemonde jumped. Mairead had never raised her voice before... "Rosemonde my dear, I am so sorry, but she has been dead for some time. I felt that she was dead within hours of us calling the police to report her missing. If I had any inkling of where she was, do you not think I would have spoken up? This is far more important than my being thought insane. If at any time I had seen where she was or thought that I could prevent her suffering or death, I would have said so; but it is like she is...nowhere and yet...everywhere —at once. It is as though her very essence or spirit has exploded, like a supernova. I can feel her and yet — and yet, I can't. It is Summer but it isn't. Oh, I'm sorry my dear, I know I'm not making any sense - "

"That's exactly what she said," Rosemonde whispered. "Do you remember, in the voice message she left, she said, 'I'm nowhere because I'm everywhere at once.'"

"She knew. She knew she was dying." Mairead sighed.

Rosemonde closed her eyes. "Oh, God." She couldn't imagine what Summer's last moments must have been like. She didn't want to.

"I just hope it was...quick." Mairead swallowed.

Drew chose that moment to knock at the door. Mairead motioned for her son to come in but he wasn't alone. One of the detectives who was assigned to Summer's case was with him.

"Detective Berg! You've found something?" Rosemonde was suddenly afraid.

"We've located the vehicle registered to Summer Jones."

"Where?" Rosemonde asked.

"The Bells Line of Road."

"Blue Mountains? That's a long way to drive just for a hook-up. Besides, I don't think she knows anyone out that way," Rosemonde said.

"Ms Jones' family said the same thing. Although, a work colleague said that she did date someone who lived in Bell, which is the suburb that gives the road its name. We're hoping you know who that is."

Rosemonde shook her head. "Detective, Summer was a...free spirit. She dated a...great variety of men, but there was no one long term."

"Are you saying she was promiscuous Ms Durand?"

"I-I don't know even know what that means. I mean, compared to what? She was certainly more liberal than I, but compared to the average girl of our age...I don't know. I guess it depends on which trendy blog you're reading as to what is or isn't considered promiscuous." There was an edge to her voice. "It is not your job to judge my friend detective."

Detective Berg blinked awkwardly. "I'm sorry Ms Durand. That is not my intention. I didn't mean to upset you or make you feel uncomfortable, but given the message, she left...I'm sorry, I do have to ask. Was she ever referred to as a "painted whore?" In public I mean. Anything, no matter how irrelevant you may think it is, might be extremely important to the case. An unkind comment, a reference, even in jest? Perhaps there was someone that judged her. Alternatively, they might have encouraged her."

"No. Nothing like that. I took the whole 'painted whore' thing as being the biblical reference — the whore of Babylon. But it can also mean Jezebel. Her talk about dancing in an asylum had me completely lost until I recalled the stories about the Bethlem Royal Hospital, a psychiatric hospital in London that has existed since 1247. The word bedlam comes from the locals' shortening of the hospital's name. It became infamous for the horrific abuse of its patients. The nightclub Bedlam is across the road from a brothel called Jezebel's. I'm sure that's what she was trying to tell us, detective. It can't be a coincidence."

Detective Berg smiled sadly. The girl was smart. "That has indeed been the focus of our investigation. I need to ask you again, why do you think she called here rather than your personal mobile number?"

"I was her emergency contact. She had both numbers programmed into her phone on speed dial. One was Ms Wilson's number, and two was my mobile number. I guess it was easier for her to hit the number one on her phone. I don't know!"

Christian Berg closed his eyes briefly and rubbed his forehead. He could feel a headache coming. He hated this aspect of his job. Rosemonde was a beautiful young lady, sincere, and obviously grieving for her friend. He longed to just tell her what he already knew, but he couldn't. He had to give only little snippets of information, just in case she was withholding information. Just in case she inadvertently revealed something that there was no way she could know, unless... He couldn't imagine it. She had been cleared as a suspect anyway. Her phone records revealed her locations were a shopping centre, her home, and this house, on the day Summer Jones was reported missing. He sighed heavily and decided.