‘Not until the bust was over.By then it was too late…’
She shook her head, the frown fleeting, as if grappling between logic and simple police procedures.‘Surely Bree would have contacted his supervisor.Someone.’
‘She did.But Finn’s OIC held back the messages because they were so close to making their bust on an eighteen-month operation.But when they made their arrests, and Finn found out that his OIC had blocked all calls from Bree about his son, Finn lost it.He punched out his OIC and landed his arse in prison.’
‘I knew Finn went to prison for assaulting his superior officer.I just never knew why.’Her eyes widened, just for a second, like the truth hadn’t just punched the breath out of her and she was forcing herself not to show it.She blinked slowly, lips parting as if to say something more… then shut them again.
Porter watched her fingers flex against her thigh.He could see it—she was filing the grief away, like a good cop.Tucking her emotions away somewhere neat and unreachable, where it wouldn’t interfere with the job.It’s what made her so black and white with the rules of life.
‘He’s pardoned, you know,’ Amara murmured.‘Our boss got him pardoned.’
‘Who’s that?’
‘Andrew Bannon.The Federal Agricultural Commissioner.’
‘Is that the one Stone callsBig Daddy?’
She rolled her eyes.‘Yeah.’
‘I didn’t know that.’They sat in silence for a moment, gazing out over the empty stockyards.The main boom gate was down, barring the entrance, while the office—a squat, no-nonsense building, sat to their right, with the water tower rising behind it like a silent sentinel.
‘Are you okay?’
Amara nodded, while taking another deep breath.
‘It’s been a big day.We can take five and get a coffee—’
‘No.Let’s do this.’She moved fast from the car wearing that cop face like armour with her stride steady and sure.
‘Before we go inside…’ Porter held the door handle to the Stock Office, effectively stopping Amara from barging inside.‘Lydia is a really nice lady.’
‘I’m not going to march in there and accuse her of a crime.I need proof first.’
And that was such a classic Montrose move.
‘Yeah, well, you have that look.’
‘What look?’
‘Like everyone’s the enemy and you’re two seconds away from slapping cuffs on them.’He held his hands up in mock surrender before she could scowl any harder.‘Understandable, considering what happened this morning.Just remember, I’m on your side.Lydia will be too.So, take a deep breath and flash some of that Montrose charm you keep hidden from the world.’
She scowled.
He grinned, pushing open the glass door.The bell clanged overhead, welcoming them with a rush of cool air and the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee.‘Hey, Lydia.’
She was already at the door to greet them.
‘Aww, I’m so sorry them mongrels pinched your horse, luv.C’mere, give us a hug.’Lydia bundled Amara into a hug, like someone’s mother, smelling of lavender, leather and sunshine.
‘I’m so sorry this happened.I saw how happy you were when you bought that horse.Just so you know, luv, it’s always been a pet hate of mine, someone pinching livestock like that.It’s a mongrel act in my books.’
‘It’s okay, Lydia.But that’s not why we’re here.It seems the horse’s branding was tampered with…’ Porter explained the incident to Lydia, showing her the images on his phone as he leaned against Lydia’s large desk, covered in paperwork and colour-coded trays.
‘That’s downright disgraceful is what it is.’Lydia straightened her long-sleeved shirt, the same as those worn by most of the cattlemen in town, including the same jeans and boots.‘If you need anything, just let me know.I’m happy to help.’
‘Thank you.’Amara stood awkwardly by the door, a little rumpled from her hug by a stranger.
‘So a polo pedigree, huh?Gotta hand it to you, luv, you have a good eye for class.I’m just sorry he’s…’ Lydia’s smile fell as she wiped her hands down her jeans and scooped up a folder.
