‘Anderson called him, apparently, to do a car swap just before you left Mildura,’ Dad says.
‘Ando knew.’ I turn to Harris. ‘He must have realised Leon didn’t trust him after what you said about Tulane Road.’
‘So he cut loose.’ Harris nods. ‘Ando’s evil, but he’s not stupid.’
‘Are you saying Marcus Anderson was involved in the Mildura shootings?’ Dad’s forehead lines meet in the middle. ‘Then finding him’s just become more urgent. Once we get the plate number we can track Barry’s car to Melbourne –’
‘Ando’ll ditch that car fast,’ Harris says. ‘And he could just as easily have headed to Adelaide, or north to Sydney.’
‘I’ve gotta go talk to Murphy,’ Dad says, stepping free before swinging back to me. ‘Are you all right for a minute, love? It’s going to be very complicated here, but once I’ve done this I can take you home.’
‘I’m good,’ I say, tucking myself into Harris’s chest. ‘We’ll wait for you.’
‘Right.’ Dad’s glance takes in the way Harris and I are hugging. His eyebrows lift and he snorts. ‘Okay, fair enough. Gimme a sec. Go over to the paramedics and get them to check you out – especially you, Harris.’
He walks off and I feel Harris’s diaphragm rumble with a suppressed laugh. When I look up, he’s grinning. ‘Well, that was easier than I thought it’d be.’
I grin back, squeeze his waist gently. ‘Told you.’
It takes more than a sec, but within half an hour – super-fast, for police time – Harris and I are loaded into the back of Dad’s squaddie. The ambulance officer wasn’t excited about the idea of us taking Harris home instead of to hospital. We reassured her it would only be for a short time, so we can give our statements. I know Dad has arranged this so Harris and I can have a period of calm before the medical examinations and the questioning and the evidence-gathering process begins, and I’m grateful.
Jared Capshaw rides shotgun with Dad driving; there needs to be at least one other officer present, considering Dad and I are related. Jared is a skinny freakishly-tall guy with a head of bright orange hair. He has to scrunch his legs up to fit in the front passenger seat. The squaddie is warm inside, and it feels comfortable – I’ve seen this car being tuned out the back of our house more times than I can count – but I can tell Harris isn’t wild about riding in the back behind the mesh grille.
‘Yeah, this is a littletoofamiliar, if you know what I mean.’ He holds a wrapped icepack to his cheek, wincing.
I take the icepack from him, re-wrap and re-position it. ‘It’s only for the trip to Walpeup. Murphy said he’s going to try to find the Pitbull once they’ve found Leon.’
‘They had a lead on the Volvo out of Dareton,’ Dad says over his shoulder. ‘But Leon’s no dumber than Marcus Anderson. He’s probably got himself a new set of wheels by now.’
‘Murphy said they’re keeping an eye on light aircraft, too,’ Jared says. ‘He’s checking the airfield near Wentworth. Harris, are you okay, mate?’
‘I’m real tired, hey, but I’m okay,’ Harris says, leaning against my shoulder.
Jared looks between me and Harris like Dad did earlier. Much eyebrow-waggling ensues. I’m pretty sure the local gossip mill will get mileage out of this for years to come.
Then I look out the windscreen and – oh, my house! My sweet plain house… It seems to shine in the squad car headlights, but that could be because my eyes are watering. Dad eases the car onto the grass near the fence, pulls the handbrake and leaves the headlights on.
He angles himself to talk. ‘We’ve only got a little while, but you can come in and rest. Murphy’s said he’s sending a car over for extra security.’
That’s when I realise Jared isn’t just here to supervise me and Harris giving statements. Leon’s reach is long, and we’re witnesses. Until CIU get a bead on Leon and Ando, Harris and I are basically under police protection.
‘You’d better let us out then.’ I nod at the doors. The rear passenger doors in the squaddie don’t have handles.
‘Oh, yeah, sorry,’ Jared says. ‘I’ll do it.’
He jumps out his side, closest to the house, probably relieved for the extra leg room.
‘We have to call Nani,’ I say, remembering suddenly. ‘Dad, she knows about Harris, and she’ll be worrying about us.’
‘I’ll see to it,’ Dad says. ‘You’ll probably need to –’
The explosivecrackof a gunshot at close range makes me jump, cry out. Jared Capshaw’s body slams into the passenger window on my side of the car – I gasp as he tumbles to the ground.
‘Shit.’ Harris has already half-climbed over me, putting his body nearer the house – nearer the gun-shot side – than mine. I scream as the front passenger window shatters, and another shot fractures the night.
Then Dad is yelling, ‘Out!Get outta the car!’ and Harris is yelling, ‘We can’t get out until you let us out!’ and I turn my head to see…
In the glancing light of the headlamps, Marcus Anderson stands to the right of my house, partially concealed behind the Holden carcass near the fence. He’s aiming a pistol over the roof of the old car, aiming through the windscreen of the squaddie –
