36. Sam
Sam
T he conference room at the station is filled with officers. Inspector Wyatt and I stand at the front of the room, a large map of the Victorian High Country projected on the screen behind us.
There are two red dots on the map, each indicating one of the farmhouses—Carlisle Hill and Orlando Estate.
‘Team One,’ Wyatt addresses the room. ‘You’ll be with me at Orlando Estate. And Team Two will go with Sergeant Anderson to Carlisle Hill.’
The Inspector had been very hesitant to let me back in the field, let alone run point. But with the number of officers already pulling overtime, he wasn’t left with many options. I’m the most senior officer here at Cobal Gully and this is about as serious as it gets.
My team consists of four patrol cars. Myself in one of them, and two officers in each of the other three. The instructions have been clear that we use minimal force. We want them alive. We want to know who’s at the very top of the organisation and how widespread it is.
***
We slowly drive up the long gravel driveway of Carlisle Hill.
While there are plenty of tall trees and bushes surrounding the outskirts of the property, there isn’t a lot of coverage as we near the house.
There are dry unkept paddocks and a dirty brown dam.
We keep the lights and sirens off and hopefully keep our arrival unknown for as long as possible.
A rundown weatherboard stands at the end of the driveway.
Another structure beyond it looks uninhabitable, so I keep my attention on the house itself.
There are no vehicles surrounding the property, which makes my stomach sink.
I’d be surprised if they didn’t keep their cars nearby for a quick escape.
But they could be hidden off on a dirt road beyond the trees.
I hang on to that hope but also remind myself there’s another team at Orlando Estate. If no one’s here, it’s not over.
We park the cars about thirty metres from the house.
The team are already in their protective vests and we break up into groups.
Two officers head around to the left side of the house, two to the right, while the other two stay with me.
We approach the front door, guns drawn. We don’t plan to shoot, but they don’t need to know that.
My heart races under my uniform and the heavy vest. It’s been a while since I’ve seen any action like this.
Since moving to Cobal Gully, my role has been predominantly investigating and research, plus general patrol.
But general patrol in Cobal Gully is as quiet as it gets—a few silly teens at the skatepark picking fights with each other, or an elderly woman concerned about the speed of cars travelling down her street.
I take a steadying breath before thumping a fist on the door. ‘Police! Open up!’
There’s not a sound on the other side. Not a single whisper or footstep that we can hear.
I try again. Still nothing. ‘We’re coming in!’
I turn the handle, but it’s locked. One of the other officers uses a battering ram to break the door in.
‘Team two is entering the property at Carlisle Hill,’ I say quietly into my radio.
It’ll be broadcast to my team here with me and the station via the mountaintop repeaters.
They’ll be able to relay anything on to the Inspector and his team.
‘Copy.’
‘Copy. We’re entering through the back door now.’
The other two groups from my team respond, and we enter the house.
It’s dark and dusty. I pull my torch out and hold it above my gun, shining the light around the entranceway.
I nod to point my team in different directions and we begin to search.
It only takes a matter of minutes to realise this place is deserted and has been for a while.
There are a few cans of beans and tuna in the cupboard and some toilet paper in the filthy bathroom.
Three bedrooms have yellowing mattresses on the floor and the lounge room has a sad looking couch. But otherwise, empty.
I slam a fist into the wall of the lounge room and curse as plaster cracks beneath it. ‘Carlisle Hill is clear. Repeat, Carlisle Hill is clear.’ I squeeze my eyes shut, feeling completely deflated.
‘Copy that, Sergeant. We’ve heard from Team One. Shots have been fired at Orlando Estate. Standby for updates.’
My stomach drops. ‘Senior Constable Marks,’ I say to one of the women in my team. ‘You’re in charge.’
I don’t wait to hear her response, and I don’t care that this is against all protocol and the instructions from the Inspector. I run to my car and speed the twenty minute drive to the other farmhouse.