To the outsider, identical twin Chris Dawson looked just like a Ken doll — a charming, handsome and gifted sportsman who was irresistible to the opposite sex. But behind his perfect appearance lay a dark secret and a murder that’s mystified police for 25 years.

Now, using advanced DNA testing, police hope they can finally say who killed Chris’s wife Lynette.

For 25 years, her siblings have been tormented by the unexplained disappearance of their sister. One minute Lynette seemed to be living the ultimate happy-ever-after fairytale. Married to a football star with model looks, and living in a dream house raising two longed-for little girls, she appeared to have it all.

But in January 1982, the 33-year-old failed to show at a lunch with her mum and her hunky first-grade rugby league player husband Chris Dawson. Strangely, Dawson, then also 33, waited six weeks before reporting his wife “missing”.

On the day of their arranged meeting, he claimed Lyn had phoned him, saying she was “going away, needing time out to think” about the problems that were plaguing their marriage.

The main problem was that Dawson, who worked as a high-school PE teacher, was having an affair with their babysitter, his student, 16-year-old Joanne Curtis.

Now, with new clues emerging about her disappearance and murder, Lynette’s heartbroken siblings Pat Jenkins and Greg and Phil Simms, have no doubt that Chris Dawson knows a lot more than he’s ever let on. Their opinion is supported by Damian Loone, the detective who can’t let the case go.

“The family needs answers,” says Det Loone. “We want people who know anything to come forward. Every piece of information brings us closer to bringing Lynette Dawson’s killer to justice.”

Detective Loone and Lynette’s family are keenly awaiting the results of DNA testing on a jumper found buried on the Dawsons’ former property. It’s believed the garment belonged to Lyn. Psychics assisting in the case believe Lynette is buried in the backyard.

Bizarrely, Chris Dawson returned to his former home on three occasions, asking the new owners if he could look in the backyard as it “meant a lot to him”…

For the full story, see this week’s issue of Woman’s Day (on sale April 9)

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No one at uni knows my secret. At night, after lectures, I go to work as a prostitute in a St Kilda brothel.

It started three years ago in my first year. I had arrived from a country town with only $200 in the bank. I desperately needed cash. I got a job at a supermarket but my wages barely covered my rent. I couldn’t work more hours because of classes and all the other jobs I applied for paid the same amount.

The hours I did get were at night or weekends so I had no social life and I always felt tired. Consequently, I was always running late for early classes. One morning after sleeping in, I burst into tears when the lecturer singled me out as I tried to sneak into class. The girl sitting next to me consoled me.

After the lecture, she asked me why I was always late and I told her. She smiled knowingly. “There is another way to earn money,” she said. “Lots of money.”

That piqued my interest. The girl, Nicole, was always dressed in the latest fashions with an expensive manicure and accessories. I had assumed her parents were rich but she said she paid for everything herself. When I pressed her further, she told me she was a hooker. She worked in a clean, safe brothel and could get me an introduction with the owner.

It all happened quickly after that. After a rather degrading “interview” in which I had to parade before the Madam in my underwear and answer all sorts of questions about my sex life, I was hired.

Ever since, I’ve worked in the brothel three nights a week. I earn ten times what I did at the supermarket, for much less effort. And it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. My regular clients treat me with respect and I’m never forced to do anything I don’t feel comfortable doing.

The hardest part is lying to my family and friends about where the money is coming from. They all assume I got a promotion at the supermarket but my mother grew suspicious when she dropped in one day and was told I no longer worked there. I told her she must have spoken to one of the newer employees who didn’t know me. I felt awful and I never want to have to do that again.

Thankfully I graduate this year so I can get a real job, something I can tell everyone about and be proud of. Although I don’t have a boyfriend at the moment, there is a guy at uni who is showing some interest. If things get serious, do I tell him the truth? I’m scared that it might disgust him. On the other hand, if I tell him and he still wants to see me, then I’ll know he’s worth keeping. It’s a decision I’ll make when the time comes.

Picture posed by models.

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