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“It sure looked like he’d been there a while. At least two or three days, which would be the right timeframe,” she said, not wanting to drop the subject.
“Yep,” Finn agreed, but he wasn’t going to speculate any further. There were too many variables. Too many inconsistencies. The dead guy in the camp looked like he’d been beaten to death. Or perhaps strangled, but it was hard to tell with all the post-mortem wounds, and that was up to the coroner to determine. One thing was for sure, he hadn’t been hacked to death by a machete or some other type of long knife, like Wombat. Now, if the murder weapon used on Wombat turned up in that clandestine camp, then that may be another thing altogether. But in Finn’s hasty assessment of the camp, nothing had shown up.
Then there were the tire tracks a little farther down the dry creek bed. To Finn’s assessing gaze, they looked to belong to some kind of long-wheel-based, four-wheel-drive. The fact it was no longer there also pointed to the fact the other man had fled. But if he had been the murderer, why had he not tried to cover his tracks? Left the body and everything exactly as it was, almost as if they wanted it to be found. Was this another warning? And if it was, who was it meant for?
They rode the rest of the way in relative silence, both brooding in their own little worlds. When they arrived back at camp, they worked side by side to bed down the horses, and then walked toward the silent camp. Everyone else had turned in for the night, tired of waiting for them to return. He walked Indy to her tent.
“I’m fine now,” she protested quietly. But he shrugged and gave her a smile. Call him old-fashioned, but he wanted to make sure she made it safely to her home.
“Shh,” she shushed her excited dogs, who were leaping at the ends of their ropes in greeting. Finn waited while she patted each dog in turn and made sure their water bowls were full. Then ghosted in her wake as she crossed to stand in front of her lodgings. It wasn’t large, an old canvas-style tent probably dug out of the Stormcloud storage for this yearly event. It was big enough for her to stand up in, and as she swung open the flap and turned on a small light inside, he glimpsed a camp bed in one corner, with a folding table beside it, and a large duffle bag at the end, all neat and squared away, the same as the night he’d watched with her as the police had carried out their search warrant. Not as big as the marquee he shared with Dave and Carrot, and somehow more homey than their all-male territory.
“Thanks,” she whispered, removing her hat and turning around to face him. “I’m safe now, you can go.” She gave him a smile and then tipped her head toward the sky to look at the stars. Her skin glowed in the moonlight, high cheekbones and aquiline nose silhouetted against the heavens. His heart jolted in his chest, and his cock stirred. She was the most beautiful thing he’d seen all day. All week. All year. She was so close, he could almost breathe in her scent.
He wanted to reach out and take her in his arms, just like he’d done up on the hill the other evening. But he had no excuse this time.
“Indy, I…” He what? What could he say to this woman who captivated him like no other? He had a job to do here, and it didn’t involve getting attached to this woman, whom he hardly knew. The lines between his job and his reality were blurring. The lines between him and Indy were blurring. He reached out and cupped the curve of her cheek with his hand. A feather-soft touch. After a second’s hesitation, she leaned into his palm, closing her eyes momentarily, as if she enjoyed the feeling.When she opened her eyes, their gazes locked, time standing still for those precious seconds.
The unspoken words lay between them, like a veil.
She searched his eyes for an answer. Even though he’d started this, he knew he needed to be the one to stop it, before it went any farther. With a great effort of will, he removed his hand from her face. His work wasn’t finished tonight. He still needed to report to Mike. Needed to get his weapon safely back into its hiding spot. He needed to figure out who this goddamned killer was.
He said the only thing he could decently say to her, that wouldn’t lead him to take her lips with his; that wouldn’t lead him into her tent. “I need to know you’re okay before I go. Tonight was…” Shocking, harrowing, all those other adjectives. But Indy seemed to have come out of it relatively unscathed. He wanted her to know that he was there for her. “If you want to talk about it, don’t hesitate to come to me.” He wanted to add that he’d be happy to sleep in her tent, if she needed it. To keep the nightmares at bay, if they came. And to give himself peace of mind. But that would lead to temptation he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to withstand.
The glow in her eyes cooled, and she took a step back. “Thanks, Finn. I’m sure I’ll have lots of questions tomorrow. But I can see you have things you need to do.” She was withdrawing, exactly as he wanted, but his gut twisted in reaction. Her gravitational pull was so strong, he nearly reached out for her again.
“I just want you to know you can talk to me about anything. Okay?” he said softly instead.
“Okay. Goodnight, Finn.” She stepped back and let the flap fall, blocking her from view.
Shit. He hadn’t handled that well. Standing outside Indy’s tent, he debated what to do. His heart told him to walk straightin there and kiss her, wash away the uncertainty and fear in her eyes. Replace it with the inevitability that they should be together. At least for tonight. But his head was clamoring with all the practical things he needed to do tonight.
Finally, he stepped away from her tent and stalked into the darkness.
It took him only a few minutes to sneak into his shared tent to replace his weapon in its hidey-hole and retrieve his sat phone. Dave snored away, oblivious; that man would sleep through an earthquake. Carrot turned over and muttered something, making Finn freeze in place for a few seconds, until the man’s breathing became deep and sedate once more.
As he made his way out into the bush, weaving his way through the ghostly tree-trunks, he was surprised to find the night was full of animal noises and movement. Insects buzzed, frogs sang from the billabong, an owl called as it flew overhead, his wings soft and deadly in the dark. Something jumped away through the long grass off to his left—Finn assumed it was a roo. There were more beasts out here than during the day, it seemed.
When he was far enough away from camp not to be overheard, he fired up the sat phone and waited. He had no doubt that Mike would be awake and waiting impatiently for his call.
“Griff, what the hell is going on out there?” His boss answered on the first ring.
Finn got down to business, relating his evening’s expedition, laying everything out in chronological order so Mike could follow along.
They talked for nearly twenty minutes, going over all possible scenarios, but in the end, they were no closer to an answer than Finn had been when he found the body.
Finn was just about to say his goodbyes and hang up—he needed to get some sleep—when Mike said, “Wait, Griff. A manmatching Garrett’s description was seen driving one of those cattle trucks into Townsville yesterday. It looks like he might’ve taken over Wombat’s role.”
“Are you sure?” Finn screwed up his mouth in a grimace. Shit. If this were true, it put Garrett in the vicinity. And it made the clue he’d found in the murdered man’s campsite even more incriminating.
“Yes, I’m sure. The information came from Joe.”
“Shit.” This time Finn swore out loud. “Sorry, boss,” he apologized. Joe was one of the other undercover agents from his team. He’d infiltrated the dockworkers crew in Townsville, where most of the cattle were shipped from all the northern stations and loaded onto large ships to be sent to Indonesia, or the Middle East. There was a dock in Cairns, too, but that was more of a cargo hub, supplying a lot of the mining sites around the top end.
Should he tell Mike what he’d found in that camp tonight? Finn took the cigarette lighter out of his pocket and turned it over in his hands. He’d found it lying in the dust a few feet outside the main shelter, and recognized it instantly. A vintage lighter, made from sterling silver, embossed with filigree leaves. It was an unusual lighter, but with no identifying marks, it might’ve been hard to trace back to its true owner. But Finn knew it was eerily similar to the one Garrett had played with when he’d paid them a visit after Kayleigh’s birth, flicking the lid continuously, making a small, annoyingsnapsound. Almost as if it were a set of worry beads, or a fidget toy; he seemed to be unaware of his annoying habit. Finn had taken a good look at the thing because it was so unusual. This lighter could belong to anyone, but something in his gut that told him, without reservation, that the lighter belonged to Garrett.
“This is fast getting out of hand, Griff,” Mike said, breaking into his thoughts. “I was already considering pulling you out.It may be too dangerous to leave you where you are. And now with Garrett in the area, joining the team of drivers…” Mike left his unsaid words hang in the air like daggers waiting to fall. But Finn got the gist. His boss was getting antsy. He needed reassurance things were still going according to plan. At least it made his decision to not tell Mike about the lighter easier. He’d keep that little tidbit to himself. No point in giving Mike the ammunition he needed to pull Finn out.
“I don’t believe I’m in any danger personally,” Finn said smoothly. “This is a tight-knit team, and I trust them. They’ll have my back if anything goes wrong.”
