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“Once they wade through all this police red tape,” he said, returning his gaze to the road. “I mean, the car is a write-off, there’s no disputing that part. But this whole someone-tampering-with-the-car thing is giving them the excuse to drag their feet.”
“It’s always the same,” Bindi agreed. “Insurance companies around the world will look for any loophole, if it means they don’t have to pay out.”
“Amen to that,” he agreed.
“Are you going to get another truck the same as the last one?”
“Not sure yet. Aaron showed me his new Ford Ranger the other day. It looked like a sweet ride. I might think about one of those.” Aaron had taken him out for a quick spin after dinner the other night when he’d heard Mack was considering something else to replace his wrecked Chevy. They’d had a lot of fun racing over the gravel roads as Aaron put his vehicle through its paces. Then Mack had his turn and had been impressed by the handling ability and speed of the truck’s pickup.
“What, no jet-black, flashy Chevy that screams look at me?” Bindi said with a laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re actually considering function over form?”
“Now, I wouldn’t go that far,” he countered. “But they seem more…suitable for this type of country, that’s all.”
“Ah, I see.” Bindi stretched out her legs and leaned back into the seat. Relaxing a little, as if they were back on stable ground. The act of mundane conversation seeming to draw off some of that tension leaking from her like she was a live electrical wire.
He decided to leave his inquisition about what was going on between them for now. It was nice to have her acting normal around him, for once.
The rest of the drive into town, they chatted about other brands of vehicle that might suit him. Bindi admitted it was probably time she traded in her old car for something newer. But she liked her yellow ute, it had character and class, something she said was missing from most of the modern, over-the-top trucks nowadays.
Mack dropped Bindi off out the front of the small supermarket and headed to the outskirts of town, where Clancy was waiting for him, the items Steve needed already boxed up and ready to go. Mack chatted with Clancy for a few minutes—the old bloke seemed keen to talk, there weren’t a lot of customers that Mack could see—before he hopped back into the Land Cruiser and parked in the main street, waiting for Bindi to return. She was also picking up their new phones from the post office, and he hoped she wouldn’t be too long.
He fiddled with the radio until he found a tune he liked and wound down his window, humming along to the tune, watching the small-town locals go about their business. Bindi had told him a lot of tourists travelled through Dimbulah, it was a hub for many tourist sites in the area, and he noticed a couple of big four-wheel-drives parked along the road with vans hitched behind them. But the tourists would wane over the coming wet season as the roads got too dangerous, or became impassable because they were flooded. Mack found it hard to believe this dry, barren land would soon be covered with sheets of water. But everyone kept telling him it was true, so he guessed they couldn’t all be wrong.
Bindi jerked the door open and bustled inside. “Quick, drive,” she said in a breathless pant.
“What? Why?” he asked, but he was already starting the car.
“I saw Mutt.” She was trying to stuff bags of food into the footwell, while glancing through her side window, hat sitting askew on her head. “The guy in the post office took forever because he was helping me set up my new phone, which is why I’m running late. When I came out, I was in a hurry, and I nearly dropped all my bags. And that’s when I saw him.”
Mack swiveled his head to peer into the rear vision mirror. The street looked normal to him, just people going about their business. Nevertheless, he waited for a four-wheel-drive to pass slowly by and then pulled out onto the main road.
“Are you sure it was him?” Mack maneuvered through the slow-moving traffic, muttering curses under his breath as the line of cars came to a standstill while some old geezer reversed his car into a parking spot.
“Yep. He was across the street. He looked straight at me.” Bindi sat forward in her seat, tense, eyes scanning the street behind them.
“What the fuck?” Mack exclaimed. “Nash said his cops were keeping an eye on the guy. How the hell did he get here without someone notifying us?”
“I don’t know,” Bindi replied tightly. “I just want to get back to Stormcloud.”
Mack agreed, but this traffic was going to be the death of him if it moved any slower. There were too many cars for him to track who was driving what. “Did you see him get into a car?” he asked.
Bindi shook her head. “Nope, he took off running back down the street.”
That was odd. But Mack had no time to dissect the other man’s behavior as the line of cars finally cleared and he took a right-hand turn to get out of town. They passed the sign for the town limits and Mack sped up, breathing a sigh of relief as the bitumen opened up clear and wide in front. Bindi still gripped the handrail above her head, tension radiating through her body.
A white truck appeared in his rear vision mirror, moving fast, gaining on them.
“Call Nash,” Mack said as calmly as he could.
“What?”
“Call Nash and tell him you saw Mutt. Tell him there’s a car following us.”
“Oh, shit.” Bindi swiveled in her seat to peer through the back window. “Do you think that’s him?” The four-wheel-drive kept gaining on them, and Mack put his foot down, too.
“Yep,” Mack replied with a growl.
“What does he think he’s going to do?” Bindi asked, her voice sharp.
