Chapter 17 #3
Gavin swore under his breath, glancing back towards the fields. ‘Bloody hell, this is bigger than I thought.’
They exchanged a look, equal parts alarm and angry comprehension.
‘We can’t take this,’ Hayden said, waving a hand at the toolbox. ‘Not yet. If someone checks on this and finds it missing, they’ll know we’re onto them.’
‘Agreed,’ Gavin said. ‘We cover it back up. Say nothing until we’re ready to move.’
Hayden nodded and grabbed the tarp corners. ‘We remember every inch of how we found it.’
They worked in silence, re-covering the box, tamping the soil down carefully, brushing away their tracks. When they stood and stepped back, it looked untouched. But everything had changed.
They drove in convoy back to Sweetwater Acres, then Gavin joined Hayden in his LandCruiser.
They drove back into town, where the streets felt too quiet.
His mind in a spin, Hayden headed towards the servo to refuel.
Then they planned on grabbing something quick to eat while they planned what to do next.
Neither of them had eaten since breakfast.
Standing near the bowser, Hayden caught sight of Sharon.
She lingered near the pub’s entrance, one boot propped against the brick and a cigarette smouldering between her fingers.
She looked relaxed on the surface, but there was something about the way she tracked his movements – subtle, but deliberate – that put him on edge.
As she caught his eye, her expression gave little away; it was neither warm nor cold, as if weighing something up.
He hadn’t seen her since she’d left his place the day Craig had turned up, and she hadn’t answered his calls or responded to the texts he’d sent in the days after.
He’d figured she’d chosen distance, maybe for safety, maybe to stay clear of whatever mess Jack had left behind.
And he’d accepted that. But now, seeing her linger there, eyes unreadable, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was waiting for something.
Or watching for someone. And it sent a thread of unease crawling beneath his skin as she stubbed the cigarette out in the gutter, grinding it hard under her boot, then pushed off the wall and strode across the street, right as he was clicking the diesel pump back into place.
‘Hey there, Hayden.’ Sharon’s tone was casual, but her gaze was too steady to be idle. ‘Busy day so far?’
‘Yeah.’ Hayden gave a measured nod. ‘Been out chasing some of my stray cattle.’
‘Is that so.’ She tilted her head slightly, then reached over and plucked something from the bumper of his LandCruiser.
A frayed piece of cane stalk, still streaked with dirt.
She held it up between her fingers, inspecting it like a prize.
‘Funny what sticks to you when you’ve been out near the cane fields,’ she said mildly, letting it drop to the pavement.
Her smile was slight, unreadable, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes.
‘Didn’t think your stray cattle would take you that far out,’ she added, brushing her hands on her jeans like it didn’t matter.
‘They can wander a fair old distance when they’re antsy.’ Hayden locked eyes with her. ‘And you know how spooked they can get in the heat.’
Sharon shrugged one shoulder, brushing a strand of unruly hair behind her ear. ‘Right. Just looking out for you, is all,’ she said with a faint smile. Then her eyes flicked towards Gavin sitting in the passenger seat. ‘And that goes for Gavin too. And his family.’
What a strange thing to say. With his gut roiling, Hayden narrowed his eyes. ‘Why haven’t you responded to my messages?’
Sharon’s smile thinned. ‘Because I don’t want to be part of your digging. Not anymore. Some things are better left untouched.’
He took a step closer, lowering his voice. ‘Has Craig threatened you?’
Sharon’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t step back.
‘No. And I don’t need you looking out for me, Hayden.
’ She folded her arms. ‘I’m a big girl. I can deal with my problems myself.
Just leave well enough alone, will you, before this entire town is tipped on its head.
’ She turned then, strolling back towards the pub like they’d been chatting about the weather.
Hayden watched her go, unease flickering in his chest.
What in the hell had just happened?
* * *
That evening, Brianna stood in her kitchen as the sun sank below the horizon, whipping up a quick stir-fry with leftover vegetables and rice.
Sherlock paced the floor nearby, occasionally sitting at attention as if waiting for something more exciting than carrots and soy sauce.
When she plated her dinner, he let out a soft whine and nudged her leg with his nose.
‘You’ve already had yours,’ she murmured, dropping a slice of zucchini into his bowl.
Sherlock sniffed it, gave her a thoroughly unimpressed look, then laid his chin on her foot with a dramatic sigh.
She laughed quietly, leaning down to rub his ears. ‘You’re such a drama queen. But you’re my drama queen, huh?’
He thumped his tail once against the floor in reply.
Dinner done and dishes rinsed, she tied up the rubbish bag and stepped barefoot out the back to drop the bag in the wheelie bin.
The night air was still, the dazzling stars peppering the blacker-than-black sky like scattered diamonds.
It was so calm, as if nothing criminal was happening in this seemingly sleepy little country town.
And she almost, almost, allowed herself to believe that.
Just for tonight, so she could catch up on some much-needed sleep.
But as she approached the bin, Sherlock growled low in his throat.
She turned to see his ears perked, body rigid and hair standing on end along his back.
She froze. ‘Sherlock?’ she murmured, but his growl deepened.
Cautiously, she lifted the lid of the bin and quickly dropped the bag inside.
Then, spinning on her heel to dash back to the safety of the cottage, she spotted it.
Tucked beneath the windshield wiper of her Hilux was an envelope.
Her breath caught. Sherlock barked. Warningly.
Protectively. She hurriedly crossed the gravel with him pinned to her side, her heart thudding louder with every rushed footstep.
Snatching it, she noted the envelope was plain, cream-coloured, with no markings.
She tore it open with shaking fingers, the envelope giving way in a rough rip that echoed far too loud in the quiet.
Cane Fire warnings are real, Brianna.
Make sure you adhere to them.
Or risk getting burnt.
Her blood ran cold. She didn’t stop to think.
Clutching the note, she turned and ran full pelt towards the cottage.
Sherlock sprinted beside her, his growls growing louder the closer they got to safety.
Sliding inside with him, she slammed the door shut behind them, twisted the deadbolt with shaking hands, and backed away as her chest rose and fell with ragged breaths.
Grabbing her phone from the benchtop, she jabbed Hayden’s name. It rang once. Twice.
‘Bri?’ His voice was instantly alert. ‘Everything okay?’
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘Someone left a note on my Hilux.’ Then, word for terrifying word, she read it out to him.
There was a beat of silence.
‘Bri,’ Hayden said, his voice dropping to a low, urgent tone.
‘Listen to me carefully. I need you to make sure every door and window is locked tight, right now. And don’t turn on any outside lights.
I’m at the cane fields at the moment. I’ve been following something all day. But I’ll be there as soon as I can.’