It hung between them for a moment.
Porter ripped more lining from his jacket.‘Maybe he panicked.Saw your work bag.Knew you were police.’
‘That doesn’t explain why he tried to bury us alive.That was… calculated.Siri led us out here, like a trap.’
‘Yeah.’Porter nodded slowly, scooping up the strips of his torn coat, using a patch to press against the wound on the back of his head.‘It was a trap.As to why?’He shrugged, turning to face the dusty area that hid her car.‘Siri wanted us gone—quietly.And out here, no one would’ve found us.Not when Dixby Downs is supposed to be deserted.’
She tried to swallow, but her throat still burned.Yet something even more chilling made her shiver.‘Has Siri done this before?He obviously knows the land, especially the way he drove up with no lights.He was leading us into a trap the second we crossed the cattle grid.He knew we were following him.’
And this was all her fault.
‘Which means we need to move, Montrose.For all we know, he could still be out there, watching us right now.’
She rubbed her arms to rid the chill that was in her bones.‘Do you think it was him?The guy Brodie saw arguing with Red?’
‘Has to be.Fits the timeline.Fits the car.’
‘Fits the rage.’
Porter nodded again, slower this time, as if thinking.‘Still doesn’t explain what he was doing out here, this far from town.Middle of the night.Shovels and buckets in the tray.When there is no livestock or fences this side of Dixby Downs.’
Amara looked back toward the buried Land Rover, where the red earth had already flattened out, hiding its depth—and her car—like it had never been there at all.
‘My parents bought me that car.’The words tight in her throat.‘After too many weekends away, playing polo andborrowingthe station’s vehicles for days on end.’She tried for a smile, but it felt brittle.‘My father called it a show pony, useless on rough paddocks, but good for towing a horse float.But Mum loved it.We’d take it for shopping runs, pub lunches, visiting neighbours…’
The memories stuck heavier than the dust.
After everything fell apart, the car was all she’d kept.
Now, it was just another buried secret.
‘Come on.’He squatted down to her skirts, trying to lift the layers.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Trying to find your legs under all these petticoats.’
‘What for?’
‘To pick you up.’
‘I can walk.’She batted his hands away.
‘Are we going to debate this for the next ten minutes over why it’s a good idea for me to carry you?’
‘No.’She started walking, even if it was a heavy limp, with the pain shooting up to her hip.It wasn’t good.Especially in heels.‘I’ll just find a stick, like Tilly’s walking stick, to help me.’
‘Tilly doesn’t need her cane to walk with.’
‘Are you serious?’
‘She’s like a lot of other cattleman who use those long canes for practical stuff.Checking trough depths, moving cattle, banging the ground to warn off snakes.’
Amara frowned.‘Weird thing to bring into town, isn’t it.’
‘Not if you’re used to having it with you, like a stockman’s hat.’He paused, brows pulling together.‘Or maybe it’s all part of her bluff.Making people think she’s slower than she is.Keeps ‘em off guard.’
Amara’s breath caught as her ankle throbbed while she tried to navigate a shrub.
