The Ram had vanished.Even its spotlights couldn’t be seen.Only the stars offered a faint silver sheen that stretched across the spinifex and scrub.No moon.No town glow.Nothing but dust and darkness.
They were well and truly on their own.
‘Do we dig?’Amara struggled to open the back of the Land Rover, the movement causing the car to descend deeper into the dust.
‘Go slow, Montrose.Your car will sink if we’re not careful.’Porter glanced around for a long stick.He wanted to check the depth of this bog hole of bulldust.
‘Well, I’ve got some rope.A first-aid kit.There’s water and a torch in the car.’She rummaged around in the back seat.‘There’s a raincoat.A big one, from down south.We could wedge it under a wheel for traction.’
‘That’s a start…’ It was either start digging, pray someone would come looking, or start the long walk back in the dark.
Then he heard it—a low rumble rolling in from the other side.
Tyres crunched on dirt.
But there were no headlights.
Just the occasional red glow of brake lights cutting through the dark.
He stiffened.
That was the Ram trying to sneak up on them!
‘Back in the car.Now, Montrose.’ His voice dropped to a growl.
Of course she didn’t listen, instead squinting past him.
He stepped in front of her, a solid wall between her and whatever the hell was out there.
‘Now, Amara.’There wasn’t time to argue.
Automatically, his hand hovered near his hip—but he had no weapon on him.But if it came to it, he’d throw fists and fury to keep her safe.Whatever was coming, he’d take it head-on before he’d let anyone or anything get near her.
‘I’m not helpless.I am a police officer.’Even in a ballgown.
‘Yeah?Well, whatever happens—play it cool.’
Twenty-eight
The red Ram rolled in behind Amara’s car, big and menacing—but slow, with no headlights on.Amara knew its headlights and the enormous bank of spotlights worked, which meant the driver, now approaching them like a predator who knew this land well.
Parking behind her car, the driver got out slowly, with one hand up in a frozen wave, as if trying to look helpful.‘Bit off track for a school formal, aren’t ya?’
Her torchlight caught the man’s face as he stepped closer.Average height, in the dust-streaked clothes of a stockman, with his face half-hidden beneath a battered Akubra.
But it was his eyes that chilled her.Pale blue and haunting enough to send a creepy sensation tingling up her spine.
‘G’day,’ said Porter, all casual like.‘It seems the missus got us into a bit of bother.I had too much drink to drive, and we were dropping off one of the stockmen from the ball, back yonder, and mucked up the mud map.The lady must’ve taken a wrong turn.’
‘I hear ya.Well, little lady, didn’t you land yourself in a powder trap?’
Trap!Was this a trap?
‘You don’t say,’ murmured Porter.Now he was playing dumb.
‘Yeah, it’s a wet season flood channel that fills up nice and neat with bulldust in the dry.Looks harmless till it snatches your tyres and drags you down.’The stranger crouched down and inspected the car, well back from the edge of the dust pit.‘You’re stuck good and proper… If I pull you the wrong way, we risk sinking the whole car if we’re not careful.But I can get you out… for a favour.’He tapped on his pick-up, bigger than a ute, but smaller than a truck.
‘What kind of favour?’
