But she loved bacon.Loved it like a comfort blanket.
And this?This wasn’t just a dodgy flu brewing.
This was different.
It took her all day to build the courage to dare get an answer.Finding a chemist well away from work, so she wouldn’t risk bumping into anyone she knew.
She had meant to take the damn thing home.But now, as she sat back, flushing the taste of bile, she glared at the test sitting on the edge of the sink.
Even if her body felt off in that subtle, traitorous way that she ignored until it screamed enough for her to stop dancing with denial.Blaming it on jet lag from her quick trips to Melbourne and Adelaide to catch up on her other cases.Work stress.Weather changes.Too much chilli with her tacos.
But now?
Now, the test stared back with clear blue lines…
Pregnant.
This was one of those moments where you wished you’d stayed in bed.Pulled the covers over your head and waited for a different version of reality to load.One without complications, or kisses from a man who looked at you like you were worth staying for.
But that was a month ago.
She dropped her head back against the cabinet and groaned.‘You’ve gotta be kidding me.’
Her parents would have a joint aneurysm.Not because she was pregnant—but because she hadn’t cleared it with them first.
Her mother would treat it like an intel leak and demand a mission briefing, to assess, contain, deploy.There’d be a tactical support unit on standby, matching onesies in every size by lunchtime, and a baby-proofing protocol drafted with an airlift plan ready to go.
Her father, meanwhile, would sit in silence, pretending not to be terrified, while quietly running background checks on every male in the Northern Territory, cross-referencing satellite footage, and ordering a discreet sweep of Finn’s federal file.
And the worst part?
She loved them for it.Because beneath the code names and contingency plans, they’d always shown up—every time it counted.
Taryn hadn’t exactly planned for motherhood.Not like this.
She’d always figured it’d be a choice she’d make one day, on her own terms, when the world felt safe enough, or if she ever felt soft enough to let her guard down.
Not to complain, but she didnotwant to relive the kind of childhood she grew up with briefings and protocols, and being babysat by lieutenants sucking up to her parents, teaching her gun drills.She wanted something slower.Warmer.
Like summers with Meghan.And that pantry full of canned peaches and the smell of eucalyptus trees and grass.A place where shadows slowly danced across the back porch from dawn to dusk, where the backyard firepit became the place to share secrets and marshmallows.That’s what Taryn had tucked away in the corner of her mind.
If ever.Maybe.Someday.
Yet, it always came back to Meghan.Her cousin.Her reason for everything, and her focus on this job.
Taryn hadn’t stepped foot in Elsie Creek for career advancement.She’d gone there for Meghan.For answers about a young woman who’d started asking the right questions and ended up dead for it.
And so far?
The investigation had only raised more questions.
Everlight’s trail had gone cold, files had vanished, testimonies were redacted, its digital footprint swept clean.Officially, it was dead.
Unofficially?
She didn’t buy it.
SW Rural Contractinghad seemed like the thread to pull.Everyone thought it was Sawyer Dixby’s company, and then Samuel Ward’s.The paperwork even pointed that way.But when she dug deeper, it was owned by another shell company…
