Page 17 of Outback Skies


Font Size:  

Dale stood and stretched, banging his tin plate to get everyone’s attention. “Righto, you lot. We’ve got work to do. Indy and Mack, you can help me sort the weaners out. Dave and Carrot, can you handle the ear tagging and drenching? And Scanner, can your crew take care of the branding?”

Dale was keen to get going, it seemed. Indy guessed he was still trying to impress Steve, to show his stepfather that his trust was well-placed by letting him run the stock camp. And apart from the homicide, Dale was doing a pretty good job so far.

The rest of the afternoon was spent wrestling the jittery cattle into the correct yards. Separating the weaners from the breeding cows, which were set free to roam again and fatten up until the next breeding season once they’d had their ear tags and brands checked. Her dogs were good at keeping the cattle yarded up and moving in the right direction, and Dale made a few comments on how well-trained they were and how perhaps they’d get her to train up a few of their dogs, as well. A couple of micky bulls stampeded and nearly broke through a fence and an angry heifercharged at Dave, knocking him down and sending him sprawling in the dust. Lucky for him, he was only left with a few bruises where the cow had trampled over him in her rush for freedom.

Indy got no chance to speak to Finn alone, but she figured she could do it later that evening, after dinner.

The evening meal was later than normal, because lunch had been delayed. They didn’t sit down to eat until well after the sun had set, and it made it harder to see the food on their plates using only the light from the fire to see by. Indy had just finished her last mouthful and leaned back in her chair with a sigh, when the low drone of a vehicle reached her ears. She wasn’t the only one to sit up and turn around. Headlights could be seen flashing wildly through the trees, as two, no three, cars drove toward camp down the gravel road.

Who the hell could this be?

Dale stood and walked over to the vehicles as they all pulled up beside the cooking van, Mack flanking his left-hand side.

Indy could now see clearly, these were three police cars. Nash stepped out of his Land Cruiser, Constable Willow, from the other side. Two uniformed police officers got out of a police cruiser behind them. She didn’t recognize these two, but they could possibly be from the large armada of cops who’d swarmed the place yesterday. A detective she remembered from the murder scene was last to emerge from an unmarked station wagon at the end of the line, wearing civilian clothes.

“What’s going on, Nash?” Dale asked, going up and shaking Nash’s hand in greeting.

Everyone was now standing around the fire, craning their necks to hear what was being said.

“Sorry, Dale.” Nash gave a small grimace. “This is police procedure. It’s out of my hands.”

The detective came up behind Nash and asked, “Are you Dale Williams?”

“Yes, sir.” Dale squared his shoulders.

“Dale Williams, my name is Detective Warwick Sampson. I have a warrant to search all domiciles, vehicles, buildings, and structures that make up this…” The detective hesitated and waved his hand in the air.

“You mean the stock camp?” Dale asked warily.

“Yes. Stock camp. All the details are in there,” Detective Sampson replied, never losing his air of aloof arrogance. He handed Dale a wad of papers. “Now please move aside and let my men do what they need to do.”

“I thought you’d already searched the camp?” Dale addressed Nash, ignoring the other detective.

“We searched the surrounding bushland and the areas in between your accommodations. But this will be a more thorough search,” Nash replied. He kept his shoulders back and looked Dale directly in the eye, but Indy could see the regret etched in the lines around his face.

She wondered how hard this must be for Nash. He and Dale were friends. He was going to marry Dale’s sister. He was part of the Stormcloud family. Indy guessed that many small-town cops had this problem, as it was hard not to become emotionally involved with people in a community.

Dale’s gaze hardened, but he stepped back and let the police officers and the detective go past.

“What are they doing here?” Rosie asked, her voice thin and wavering.

“It’s going to be okay, love,” Indy heard Brian murmur to his wife.

“I’m sorry,” Dale spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear. “It seems the police want to search everyone’s tents and trucks. Please, just all do as they ask, and we can get this over with quickly.”

“No. They can’t do that,” Rosie protested, turning to her husband. “Can they do that?” Rosie seemed especially perturbed by the idea of a search.

“Yes, they can,” Brian replied with a grimace.

Others around the fire began to make sounds of dissent. Dave and Carrot descended on Dale and Mack and demanded they do something to stop this blatant invasion of privacy. Dale and Mack were hurriedly reading the warrant by the light on their phones.

“You’d think they all had something to hide.” Finn said quietly, sidling up beside Indy. “It will go much easier if they just let the cops do their jobs.”

“Hmm.” Indy probably agreed, but she understood why the rest of the crew felt violated. The camp had already been searched as far as everyone was concerned. “What do you think they’re looking for?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the gruff Detective Sampson, who strode about as if he owned the place, in his ironed jeans and dark windbreaker jacket. A sudden thought struck her. Was this what Finn looked like when he wasn’t undercover? All authoritarian and supercilious?

“They’re probably looking for the murder weapon, would be my guess,” Finn muttered into her ear.

Indy gasped. She hadn’t thought of that. Then she turned to eye Finn suspiciously. Had he known this raid was coming? And if he had, why hadn’t he warned them?

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like