And just like that, the storm rolled back in.
Twenty-six
The kitchen still smelled like mangoes and rockmelon, with his fridge overfull with more veggies than any man could eat on his own.‘Well, so much for bringing breakfast…’
Bree was gone.Ryder and Ash, too.But Taryn was still here, sitting at the table, sipping coffee from one of his cracked mugs while scrolling through her phone, like she’d always belonged in this house.
That unsettled him more than working out who SW was, and all the other intel Bree had delivered.
On his phone, he tapped a message out in the group chat Amara had set up:
Quarry caretaker and SW suspect identified: Bob.Two-bob Bob.Real name—Samuel Ward.Sawyer Dixby’s cousin.
Amara—run background checks on Bob.Find a link to SW Rural Contracting.And the quarry’s owners.
Romy—pull images of the ute tyres from the quarry and Red’s ute, too.Send to Craig and Porter to check if they match the mystery tracks from Seery’s crime scene.The ones near his buried quad and body.Also, grab shots of cattle brands for the team to identify.
Craig and Stone—head to Tinderflats with a photo of Bob.Confirm he’s been working out there under SW Contracting and dig up whatever else you can.
SawyerSeeryDixby didn’t just drive into that bulldust pit by accident.He knew that land too well.The coroner ruled it a fluke that the tyre on that quad blew out, causing Seery to lose control, getting pinned beneath the bike, and drown in that bulldust pit.
But it never sat right with Finn and the rest of his crew.Not with the mystery tyre tracks that ran straight across the path of Seery’s quad.If he’d been panicking, looking over his shoulder, desperate to get away from Porter and Craig, who were racing after him in the Hellhound, he’d be looking for an exit.
If Seery saw a ute waiting, he would’ve gunned it in hope of a rescue.But instead, someone let him die.Maybe Red.
But Seery’s ute was registered to SW Contracting—that had to be Bob’s business.The same Bob who was running stolen stock out of the quarry, must’ve been running stolen stock off Dixby Downs Station—while his cousin, Seery, was busy digging holes to find the deeds to the place.
It was too much of a coincidence to ignore.
And in this game, every little breadcrumb mattered.
Finn stared at his phone as his team gave quick replies.That left him home alone with the Fed.
‘You handled Bree.’Who really didn’t like being handled by anyone.Ryder Riggs had his hands full, that’s for sure.
Taryn didn’t look up from her seat at the table, scrolling over her phone.‘She’s one of a kind.’
‘Yeah…’ He didn’t smile.Couldn’t.Not yet.Because whatever this was between them still felt as dangerous as barbed wire.It had to be cut before it got twisted any tighter.
‘Who sent you?’he asked.
She just looked up, calmly.‘My director sent me to audit the unit.That’s the official version.’
‘And the real one?Not the one about your cousin, I get that.But the speech your boss would’ve given you to sell this job.’
‘Russ warned me it’d be a cowboy operation, while telling me about his fishing trips that involved crocodiles the size of sedans.Or was that a bathtub?’She shifted in her seat to face him.‘I came out here expecting a hillbilly mess.Instead, I found you, the team, and this town… All of it.’
He didn’t move.
She then placed her phone down on the table.‘What’s going on?’
‘Last night, I set up surveillance in the quarry.Cameras.Drone feeds.Vehicle tags.With no warrants.’
‘What sort of cameras?’
‘Romy’s specialised field cameras that she uses for her documentaries.That’s where Bob’s photo came from.’The real SW signing off on the paperwork the entire time.
Finn was pretty sure he’d walked past Bob dozens of times in the pub, and at the stockyards, looking like any other ringer.Hiding in plain sight.
