‘Exactly,’ Porter replied.‘The fences are mended, the water tanks at the outstation were refilled, where you lot found those stolen crocodiles.’
‘Constable?’
‘It’s true, sir.I visited Dixby Downs to do the final inspection on theCold Stockreport and had questions.I met up with Porter and we found signs of someone using the property, and that’s trespassing.’
‘Which also means we’re not just looking at stock theft anymore,’ said Porter.‘We’ve got a wildlife crime, too.And if they’ve got foreign species—like banteng, brumbies, and buffalo—that haven’t been properly tested, they could trigger a biosecurity nightmare, which we all know is a critical issue that could impact the entire cattle industry.’
Finn’s voice was low, but deadly.‘Wildlife crime.Stock theft.Biosecurity breach.And a murder suspect on the run.’
‘Yeah, and I haven’t even had my morning coffee yet.’Porter held up the empty water bottle.
‘Go on, Porter.’Marcus slapped another bottle into Porter’s hand.
‘Thanks, Sarge.’He took another gulp, then drew a line along the map.‘Sawyer drove off this way—heading north-east, towards that stumpy cluster of rocks.It’s a red Ram so it’ll be a bugger to see from the air,’ Porter said, glancing back at Stone.‘I’m not sure if Sawyer’s on the run, but I’m hoping he doesn’t know we made it out alive.’Damn straight, they were alive.Now he wanted vengeance.
‘Good.Let’s keep it that way.’Finn nodded grimly at Marcus.
As the OIC, Marcus took over, voice clipped and professional.‘Craig, you’re on transport—get that horse loaded and take Montrose to the hospital for a check-up.’
‘But, sir?’Of course, Amara would argue.
‘That’s an order, Constable.’
This time, Porter agreed with her boss.‘Keep her talking.Don’t let her drift off—not till she’s seen a doctor.’
Craig grinned, sliding a wet towel around Amara’s shoulders before helping her to her feet.‘If she gives me too much trouble, I’ll put her in the back to keep the horse company.’
Amara gave Craig a look that could curdle milk—but she listened.
Yeah.That was more like it.
Porter felt some of the weight ease off his chest watching her being escorted to the horse truck.She was still in there, still her regular, pain-in-the-arse self.Which meant she was going to be okay.
And that gave him room to do what came next—find that missing overseer.
‘Stone and Romy, get your bird in the air and launch the drone and scout for signs on that rocky outcrop.’Marcus tapped on the map.
‘Come on, shortcake.’Stone scooped up the first-aid kit and headed for the chopper, with Romy jogging after him.
‘Finn takes point in his vehicle.Porter, you go with him.’
‘Sarge?’Deadset!Finn was going to give Porter the cold shoulder, or he’d cop an elbow to the ear!
‘You’ve done the research on this cold case.You’ve hunted out here, you’d know the tracks better than any of us.If Sawyer’s got a head start, we’ll need every shortcut you can give us.’Marcus glanced towards the horizon, then at his watch, his jaw tight.‘Let’s move.I want this bastard cuffed before sundown.’
Finn grunted at Porter as he rolled up his maps headed for the driver’s door.‘Try not to bleed on the upholstery.’
Thirty-six
The tricked-up troop carrier roared as its large tyres chewed through bulldust and loose gravel.Stones pinged off the undercarriage like gunfire, as every rut in the road rattled straight up Porter’s spine and into his pounding skull.
He was grateful for the air conditioning, blowing hard through the vents.But riding shotgun in a metal tomb, beside a ticking bomb, was just another form of hell.
Finn didn’t say a word.Just kept one heavily tattooed hand on the wheel, with his eyes fixed on the endless ribbon of dirt ahead.
The silence was worse than yelling.
Porter cleared his throat.‘For what it’s worth, I take full responsibility.’
