Chapter 10 #2
Hayden answered on the second ring. ‘Hey, Bri?’ His voice was low, gravelly, as though he hadn’t long been up either. ‘Everything okay?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Not really. Someone just called. No number. No voice. Just breathing. Then Sherlock reacted like somebody was here. He was growling and staring towards the side of the house. We didn’t see anyone, but …’
‘I’m on my way,’ he cut in. ‘Ten minutes, fifteen, tops. Make sure you keep yourselves locked inside, all right?’
‘We will.’
‘See you soon, Bri.’
The call ended and Brianna lowered the phone while trying to still the tremor in her hands.
Molly exhaled shakily, as if she’d been holding her breath. ‘Thank you.’
Brianna turned to her and gently gripped her arm. ‘No more thank yous, okay? We’re in this together.’
A moment later, they both stood in the kitchen doorway, watching the side path, waiting for the familiar crunch of tyres on gravel. Neither of them said it aloud, but Brianna knew the thought was there. Whoever was doing this to Molly wasn’t finished.
And now the bastards were coming for her, too.
* * *
The terrified tone in Brianna’s voice lingered in Hayden’s chest as he hurried to get to her.
She hadn’t said the words I’m scared, but it was all there, in the breathless edge to her voice, the tightness barely concealed.
Dropping the wrench clutched tightly in his hand back into the toolbox, he turned to Gavin, who stood by the workbench with his AirPods in, polishing Diesel’s bridle.
‘I’ve got to go,’ he bellowed.
Gavin looked up, frowning as he reefed an AirPod out. ‘Everything all right?’
‘Not really, bud. Bri just called, and she’s rattled. Said something about a prank call and Sherlock growling at something outside. She didn’t say it straight out, but she’s spooked.’
Gavin’s expression sharpened. ‘You want me to come?’
Hayden shook his head. ‘Nah, stay here. Keep things ticking over. I’ll let you know if I need backup.’
‘You got it, mate. Be careful.’
Hayden was already halfway to his ute when he called back a ‘will do’, the adrenaline making his steps quick and clipped.
Yanking the driver’s door open, he tossed his hat onto the passenger seat, then cranked the engine, and with a U-turn to rival a stunt driver’s, pulled onto the dirt track leading away from Sweetwater Acres.
Gravel spat from the tyres as he tore like a bull at a gate with a storm of dust rising in his wake.
His hands gripped the steering wheel harder than necessary as he sped towards town.
Sweetwater Acres blurred past in soft early-morning golds and blues, then he cautiously slowed to see the butcher unlocking his shop, the rehabilitated Chapter One café, and an elderly couple walking their kelpie.
As he fought not to exceed the fifty-kilometre speed limit, his mind was filled with two things.
Brianna and Molly. Two women who’d effortlessly made their way into his circle of care, even when he hadn’t meant to let anyone in.
He pulled onto the narrower street where Brianna’s rented cottage sat wedged between cascades of pink bougainvillea and Molly’s old weatherboard home, and her driveway finally came into view.
The LandCruiser screeched slightly as he pulled in and slid to an urgent stop.
He was out of the driver’s door in a flash and before he crossed the verandah the front door swung open and Brianna stepped out, her braid half loose and worry tight around her eyes.
Sherlock stuck to her side, stiff as a soldier, his gaze locked on something only he could sense.
‘Hey,’ she said, visibly exhaling when she saw him. ‘Thanks so much for coming.’
‘Of course.’ He stepped in beside her, barricading her from view as he already scanned the street, the fence line, the rooftops. ‘Are you and Molly okay?’
‘Yeah. I think so. It was weird, Hayden. There was no voice, just silence. Then Sherlock, he was growling, like really growling. Tail stiff, back arched. And I didn’t see anything, but it felt like someone was watching.’
Looking into her fearful eyes, wishing he could take her into his arms, where he could protect her, Hayden’s jaw twitched. ‘The same thing that’s been happening to Molly.’
She nodded.
Molly stepped out from behind her, wrapped in a robe, her hair still rumpled from sleep. She looked between them, her brows furrowed with concern, but she said nothing – she didn’t need to.
‘It’s escalating, way too fast,’ Hayden said, more to himself than them. ‘Have you got jobs to go to this morning, Bri?’
‘Yeah, I have to check in on a couple of sick racehorses at a new property up near Pebble Creek. Owner’s name is Graham, can’t remember his last name. Haven’t been out there before.’
‘Graham Matthews.’ Hayden had heard of the new bloke in town, but hadn’t met him yet. ‘Righto, well, I’ll stay with Molly,’ he said without missing a beat. ‘Just make sure you call me if anything, I mean anything, feels off when you get there, okay, Bri?’
‘Oh, trust me, you’ll be the first to know.’ Brianna smiled faintly, immense gratitude in her tired eyes. ‘Thanks, Hayden.’
‘You don’t owe me thanks, Bri. Just promise me you’ll keep your wits about you out there.’
Her eyes softened, and for a beat she just looked at him, like she wanted to say something more. Instead, she gave a small, resolute nod. ‘I will. I’ll be quick. Just need to grab my gear.’
She slipped back inside with Molly, Sherlock padding at their heels.
Hayden stayed where he was for a moment, jaw tight, gaze sweeping the street and the tree line again.
Then he jogged back down the steps and crossed the yard, ran a hand along the fence line, tested the gate latch, then circled back to check the side windows.
It wasn’t that he thought whoever had been watching would stroll back in broad daylight, but he wasn’t taking chances.
Through the front window he caught a glimpse of Brianna tugging her braid tighter as she ducked into the kitchen, already switching into work mode.
Practical. Brave. She’d get in her ute soon enough and drive away as if it were a normal workday, and he’d stay here, keeping watch, keeping Molly safe.
And ten minutes later, after a fleeting goodbye, he watched Brianna go, with his heart heavier than he wanted to admit.
* * *
The gravel crunched under Brianna’s tyres as she pulled into the long drive of Pebble Creek.
The sun cast long, angled shadows across the paddocks, and the scent of dust and eucalyptus hung heavy in the still air.
When she killed the ignition, the silence struck her.
Not the peaceful kind, but a silence that wrapped around her like damp cotton – suffocating, wrong.
Unlike most properties she visited, there were no dogs barking, no radio crackling from a shed.
Just the slow, metallic groan of the windmill and a lone cow’s bellow somewhere out back.
She took wary steps, reminding herself not to overthink or overdramatise the situation into something it wasn’t.
Two men stood near the machinery shed. The older broke away, moving towards her with a stiff, puppet-like gait. The other stayed put, arms folded, eyes fixed on her, as if testing her resolve.
‘Morning,’ she called, keeping her tone calm, professional. ‘I’m Brianna Steele, from Sweetwater Veterinary Clinic. You called yesterday, about a couple of sick horses?’
The older man gave a jerky nod. ‘Yeah, Graham Matthews.’ He extended a hand, and she shook it, noting the way his skin felt like old leather left too long in the sun. ‘Thanks for coming. They’re out in the back stable, won’t eat, off their stride. And I mean, real off.’
‘No problem, Mr Matthews, lead the way.’
As she followed him towards the stables, she couldn’t help but glance back at the second man.
He hadn’t moved. His expression was unreadable, and his presence was more looming than welcoming.
A deep unease flickered in her gut, but she pushed it down.
People were strange sometimes. It didn’t mean anything.
She was just tense. These men were harmless.
The stables were older than most, the wood silvered and dry. Dust floated through the slats, thick and slow like molasses. One stock horse stood tethered at the far end, head low, coat dull despite the early heat. Another horse was lying on its side nearby.
‘So, these two have been listless since yesterday?’ she asked, already donning gloves and pulling her stethoscope from her kit.
‘That’s right. Didn’t eat their hay, and the gelding has been lying down more than usual. Doesn’t feel like it’s colic that’s knocked him, but I don’t know what else it could be.’ Graham’s voice was raspy, like he smoked a pack a day and washed it down with whisky.
Brianna moved to the first horse, gently running her hand along the gelding’s flank before pressing the stethoscope against his side.
There were low gut sounds, and an elevated heart rate.
She quickly checked his gums, and they were tacky, pale.
‘This poor fella is definitely dehydrated. Looks like a mild impaction colic. Could be the change in weather or feed. When was the last time they were wormed?’
Graham scratched the back of his neck. ‘Few months ago, maybe longer. My wife keeps the records.’
‘They’ll need fluids and an electrolyte boost. I’ll run a drip and administer pain relief. If there’s no improvement in the next twenty-four hours, I’ll have to come back out.’
Graham gave a nod that felt more like a shrug.
Brianna moved to the second horse, this one a mare, and repeated the process.
Her vitals were stronger, but she was clearly uncomfortable.
‘I’d like to tube her. Just to be sure. I can get the gear from the Hilux.
’ As she turned to fetch her supplies, a woman appeared in the stable’s entry, startling Brianna enough to make her pause mid-step.
‘Oh!’ she said. ‘Sorry, I didn’t see you there.’