Chapter 38 #2
She called the horse breeders, who were delighted at the news their horse had been recovered, and sent through the original registration details, along with the original microchip record that didn’t match the altered auction files.
But they did send a lot of other images and vet’s certified identification marks to prove Lot 728’s lineage. It was another nail in Sawyer’s coffin.
Then she went in search of coffee and helped Tanisha with the phones and the radio. Working together at the front counter, they managed the roadblocks and closed off any trails in case Sawyer doubled back.
By the time she looked up again, the sunlight slanting through the station windows had shifted to gold.
Hours had passed.
Now she was taking up space in the main room, behind Tanisha’s station at the front counter.
Still in her borrowed coveralls, with her bandaged ankle propped up on an A4 paper box.
After this, she was never going to have to ask Porter where the reams of paper were for the police station’s printers, again.
She’d dragged the whiteboard out of the Stock Squad’s office, now covered in names, call signs, map grid references, and stock IDs. Finn’s maps were spread over the large rectangular table, while she occupied Porter’s spot, closest to the coffee machine and the front counter to help Tanisha.
The front doors slid open, and a familiar pair of boots stomped heavily inside. Her stomach dropped with every step.
Finn was back.
The security door shut behind him as he stopped, boots scuffed, his shirt still dusty from the chase. His gaze swept the room—whiteboard full, maps unrolled, call logs open, with the satellite feed looping on the monitor.
Amara tried to stand and hide her bandaged ankle while brushing down the heavily wrinkled, borrowed coveralls.
Finn folded his arms, cocked his head at her. ‘You redecorate?’ He glanced at all the equipment she’d helped Tanisha drag out of the Batcave. Yes, the nickname had stuck, and she didn’t even care.
Amara cleared her throat, already bracing herself for her dressing-down.
Towering, tatted, and muscularly menacing, Finn stepped closer—the man who’d perfected the use of silence like a weapon.
It had her squeezing her hands to not fidget, while holding her breath waiting for his next word.
Then, finally, Finn nodded at the whiteboard and all her charts. ‘Where are we at?’
Letting out a sigh of relief, she then gave him a rundown. Short and fast, just the way the man of few words liked it.
‘You set up the roadblocks?’
‘With Tanisha.’
‘Got that plane in the air?’
‘Yep. I’ve organised the paperwork for the wild stock seizures, and the reports are ready for you to sign off when you have a moment.’
She paused, breath catching. ‘And I’m sorry, sir, that I let the team down.
I didn’t follow procedure, and none of this was Porter’s fault.
I’m the one who took off, chasing after that Ram, running blind into the dark.
I went with my emotions over my stolen horse and wasn’t thinking clearly, like the officer I want to be.
Porter warned me. He told me of the risks, many times, and I completely ignored them all.
And he—Senior Constable Porter—only followed to protect me. ’
Finn said nothing.
Neither did Tanisha, who’d turned her radio right down in order to listen.
Amara looked down at her hands, then back up at her boss, who’d filled the room with his silent authority. ‘If it weren’t for Porter, I wouldn’t have made it. Sir, the man carried me on his back, in the dark—for hours, and never once complained.’ And very few men she knew would do that.
It even had Tanisha raising her impeccably sculpted eyebrows.
‘Constable—’
‘No. I need to say it, sir.’ She wobbled slightly, using the edge of the table for balance.
‘I’ve been trying so hard to prove I belong here that I forgot what being part of a team actually means.
Porter didn’t. He never forgot that. And working alongside Tanisha, I now get it.
Without Porter, I’d be dead. If he hadn’t—’
‘Enough.’ Finn’s voice cut in.
She held her breath. Here it comes, the dressing-down she deserved.
Finn stepped forward, his heavily inked hands at his sides.
She didn’t dare look down to see if they were fists as a sign of his anger, because his face was pure granite, in a look that made most criminals plead for mercy before he’d even said a word.
The man oozed lethal menace through his pores—but thankfully no booze today.
Good. At least he was back, now. Even if he was about to boot her out the door and back to the South Australian Police Department.
‘You made a mistake, but you didn’t fall apart.
You adapted and backed up your team, doing your job.
’ He tipped his chin towards the whiteboard.
‘You turned a community cop shop’s muster area into a command centre, with a stuffed ankle, a severe case of sunburn, and no doubt fighting dehydration and a touch of heat stroke. ’
‘You spoke to the doctor?’
He barely nodded. Then he side-glanced at Tanisha, sitting on her high stool hanging off every word. ‘When Porter gets back, be sure he goes to the hospital for a check-up, too.’
Tanisha nodded, her eyes flitting between the two Stock Squad members. ‘Absolutely. Even if I have to handcuff him to do it.’
Finn exhaled slowly. Again, he glanced over the paperwork, before grabbing a cup of coffee and gave a curt nod. ‘You did good work here, Montrose.’
She blinked a few times as if it’d adjust her hearing. ‘What? I mean, sir…’ Not only did he compliment her, but he’d also said her name.
‘You heard me. No more Constable. You’re part of the team. I should’ve said it sooner.’
Amara swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn’t trust herself to speak.
‘Also,’ he added, jerking his chin at her spot, ‘you’re in Porter’s seat. He might sulk for days if you muck up his pile of folders on his chair.’
Amara smiled. Just a little.
She didn’t move—not yet. The ache in her ankle still pulsed, the sunburn was torture against her bra straps… but inside, something had settled.
True to Finn’s form, the man of few words, gave her a nod and got on with the job. He’d said all he needed to say…
And for the first time in a long time—she knew she belonged.