So he kept on working, ignoring her.How long would it take her to talk?One minute, two…
‘What are you doing?’
A whole thirty seconds.A new record for her to maintain her silence.
‘I’m crocheting pot-plant holders so Tanisha’s cats can pull them apart.And we all know how cats love those balls of wool.’
She almost smiled.Almost.Only to let out a slow breath as if to control herself.‘Are you working on that cold case that involves Dixby Downs?’
Porter leaned back.‘I am.Why?’
She leaned forward, one forearm resting on the table.‘Something keeps nagging at me about that place.The first time I was there, I put it down to some outback fable ofthe Missing Overseer.But that afternoon, when you and I…’
‘Kissed.’
She huffed at him, as a warning to be serious.‘I realised it’s more than that—not the kiss—that place felt abandoned, but not empty, if that makes sense.Like something was left unfinished.’
‘And…’
‘Can you tell me about the case?’And then up went that nose, and the hoity-toity tone reappeared.‘Unless you don’t want Federal Police involvement in a local matter—'
What a load of bulldust.‘We work in the same station, Montrose.And I already told you I’d share.’He tapped on the open file.‘Sawyer Dixby was the overseer of Dixby Downs.He went missing almost three years ago.No trace, no body, and with no single reason that anyone could agree on.’
He dragged out a photo of a guy with the kind of face that screamed mummy’s boy—chubby cheeks, a bleached mop, and a beard that looked either glued on to hide his triple chins or grown for a dare.His designer shirt broke records for colourful bad taste—loud, smug, and practically yellingI spend daddy’s money.Squinted eyes topped it off, the kind you’d expect on a bloke who peaked at 21 and never got the memo that the party had ended.
‘He’d be thirty-five now.But this photo was taken three years ago—right before he vanished.’
Amara shifted forward to inspect the photo.‘The version I heard was he’d run away.’
‘That’s the popular version on the outback telegraph line.Some reckoned the family money had dried up, with debts piling high.’
Amara bit her lip, the frown just as fast.
Was this too close to home for her?Considering her own family fortune’s demise—that he had yet to fully research.
‘But you thought more, huh?’
‘That theory just never sat right with me.’He dragged out more images from the file to show her.‘No one ever saw Sawyer leave.His bank accounts remain untouched.They found his ute on a side track, empty.Keys in the ignition, but no owner, except some blood splattered across the seats, and drops, like a trail in the dust…’ He shuffled out a stack of photos taken of the scene.
She stared at the images and the incident report from the file.‘This isn’t about a man who just walked away, is it?’
‘Nope.’Again, Porter flipped through the file—pages, notes, witness statements, and sun-faded photos of Dixby Downs back when it was in its prime: cattle thick in the yards, men on horseback, and the homestead lived in.‘Sawyer’s mother, Tilly, refused to sell the land and wouldn’t let anyone else run it.She just… left it to rot.Some say she was waiting for her son to come home.Others say she knew he never would.’
Amara exhaled, rubbing her jaw.‘That’s why you’re looking into this.’
Porter gave a slow nod.‘This isn’t just a missing person’s case.Like you said, it’s unfinished business.’And he wasn’t expecting her to continue with the case, purely because it didn’t involve livestock.
Silence hung between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts.
Again, Amara broke the silence, leaning forward to pick up the photo of the thriving homestead.‘I got a weird feeling at Dixby Downs that day.The place looks abandoned, but someone’s been out there recently.I saw fresh footprints near the yards, and the water tank behind the shed—the same one we were in—was recently filled.’
He seen that, too.Giving her a mental tick of approval that the constable had done so, and that her curiosity was driving her now—an excellent trait to have as a cop.
She met Porter’s gaze.‘If Tilly has left the land to rot, is someone else maintaining it?A property that size doesn’t just sit untouched.Like water tanks should be left to run dry.Surely, if she wasn’t running cattle, she wouldn’t have someone checking boundary fences, or have someone monitoring the watering points.It makes little sense, Porter.Either this owner knows more than she’s saying, or someone else has been using that land under her nose.And I want to know which it is.’
Porter sat back in his chair as the slow grin spread across his face.‘Well, well, well.Look who finally caught up.’
Amara narrowed her eyes.‘What?’
