Craig casually shrugged.‘We had the land, the infrastructure, fenced yards, with plenty of watering points, but no stock back then.Bree knew what Finn was chasing—tight fences, isolation, room to hold stock safely.And like I said, I ran the quarantine export yards, so I knew what was required.’
Taryn raised an eyebrow again.‘So, Bree, Finn’s ex-wife, got you in?And she’s your… wife?’
‘Nah.’Craig smirked.‘Bree and I’ve been mates since we were kids.She’s like a sister to me.My wife, my bee queen,’ he said with a goofy grin, as he gazed down at his wedding ring, ‘… is Izzy.She’s a lawyer, and ten times smarter than all of us combined.You’ll meet her soon enough.I wrote her interview time down on the board at home.She forgets things because her brain moves superfast.’
Oh, Taryn was looking forward to meeting Isobel Callahan.She just had to play the game for now.‘That still sounds like a close connection with Bree to get the job with Finn, while also giving you the quarantine station contract without putting it out for tender.Convenient, wouldn’t you say?’
Craig straightened a little in his chair, the grin dimming a fraction.‘Do you think by being hand-picked by Finn, I’m given preferential treatment?’
‘I think the lines blur easily in a town like this.’
‘That’s a fair point.But you see, Finn needed help.He needed someone with what he called a specialised expertise.’
‘And you had that?’
‘It’s what Finn called it.’Craig gave a shrug.‘You see, the first case out the gate was theRough Stock Case.’
‘The what stock?’
‘Rodeo bulls.Trained for therough stockcategory.You know, bucking bulls.’
‘Right.’
‘Well, one of the top bulls and a bunch of his male calves went missing.’Craig double tapped on the table as if making a point.‘That’s when we first learned about the Stock Agent.Turned out they’d stolen more than just bulls—they were after DNA.Sperm.Embryos.All sorts of genetic material that got cryogenically sealed into these canisters that could last for years.No need to move a branded bull anymore when you can export the bloodline in your carry-on.And that first lot?’He gave a low whistle.‘Breeder’s gold mine it was.The Stock Agent knew exactly what he wanted out of that rough stock.’
Taryn paused, pen hovering.‘Who is the Stock Agent?’
Craig smirked.‘Talk to Finn.I’m not sure what I can say about the cases.Confidentiality, you know.My wife told me to say that.She’s our lawyer.’
Taryn narrowed her eyes at Craig, who apparently was well and truly lawyered up—personally and professionally.She also knew a legal dead end when she hit one.
Taryn flipped her notebook closed with a soft snap.‘Last question then.Just for curiosity’s sake.’
‘Shoot.’
She slid one of the fuel dockets across the table.‘Why do you need sand for rodeo tanks?Is that about water tanks?Or is that about some hellhound thingy?’
Craig grinned like he’d been waiting for that one.‘The Hellhound is Porter’s bush buggy—built like a bull catcher, goes like hell and it’s good on fuel.Great for tracking, like we did on the manhunt for the missing overseer in the Wild Stock Case.Ah…’ He paused.
‘I get it.Talk to Finn about that case.’
Craig grinned.
‘Your wife taught you well.’
‘I’m gonna tell her you said that.It’ll prove to her I actually listen to what she says.’His charming grin and boyish chuckle made her smile softly.
He tapped the dockets with a calloused finger.‘And the sand for the tank?That’s for the rodeo bulls.It keeps them calm, where they’ll play like it’s a big sandpit.Others will lie down on it like dogs sunbaking at the beach.’
‘Wait—bulls lie down?’
Craig chuckled.‘Only when they’re spoiled rotten.Or homesick,’ he said, glancing at his watch, ‘like me.’He pushed back from the table, tapped the brim of his hat, and left behind nothing but crumbs on the plate.
Taryn sat back in her chair with her pen tapping against her notepad.That made two interviews that only created more questions than answers.But what worried her more was how many members of the Stock Squad had Isobel Callahan counselled not to talk?
Six
Finn should’ve known the Fed would still be here.
