Page 3 of Outback Skies


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After another five minutes of watching the interplay, he stood and folded his chair, ready to head back to the tent before either of his mates.

“I’m knackered.” He stretched his arms above his head and yawned. That part, at least, was true. “I’m off to bed.”

“Yeah, be there soon,” Dave said, his eyes never leaving Beth’s face.

While Dave and Carrot remained at the campfire, enjoying their last drink, Finn made his way to their shared tent. It was a large, square canvas thing, only one room, but plenty large enough for the three of them and all their stuff. Finn rummaged through his bag until he reached the bottom, then fumbled withthe false bottom and dug out his satellite phone from the hidden compartment. Reaching farther into the pocket, he felt around until he found the reassuring shape of his field weapon, wrapped in a T-shirt. He’d tossed up whether to take his handgun into the desert—if anyone found it, he’d be up shit’s creek—but he felt more secure knowing it was there, even if he never had to use it.

He wandered into the dark desert. If anyone spotted him, he’d just say he was out relieving himself and looking at the stars. Which were absolutely amazing. In the past month, he’d become well acquainted with the northern Queensland sky, and its myriad of celestial bodies.

Once he was far enough away from camp that he wasn’t afraid of being heard, he turned on the sat phone and waited to get reception. Then he pushed the pre-programmed button and listened for the ring tone.

“Good evening, Carmody. How’s it going in the new camp?” His boss’s voice was deep and gravelly. He was getting so used to his undercover identity, it felt strange to hear his real name, and it took him a second to respond.

“Good, thanks, Sarge.” Finn tipped his head back to stare at the stars, while he relayed the day’s events to his boss, Detective Sergeant Mike Rogers. “This new station seems a little more relaxed with the rules around camp than Pullman’s.”

“That’s good.” Rogers only paused for a microsecond before he dove into the important stuff. “I have some intel. We received a tip-off today. We think the drugs may be hidden in cattle trucks. If you think about it, it’s a perfect way to move large quantities of drugs. There must be plenty of places you could secrete kilos of the stuff in the body of a truck. We need you to take a good look at any cattle trucks that come through. Are there any at camp right now?”

“Yes, two trucks came in late this evening,” Finn confirmed. The two men had joined them at the fire, and were probablystill there. “The truckers will stay the night and load up at dawn tomorrow morning, then get on the road.”

“Good. That should give you time to check the trucks. Can you get near them without being seen?”

Finn thought about it for a second. The truckers were sitting around the fire with the remaining crew. Both of them slept in their trucks in a little compartment behind the driver’s seat. He’d have to go now if he were to make any attempt at a search.

“I’ll give it a try, Sarge. I’ll report any findings tomorrow.”

“Good. But be careful. Don’t do anything reckless. You’re ideally placed to—”

“What are you doing out here?” an accusing voice drifted through the trees. Finn pushed the end button on the phone, cutting his boss off mid-sentence. He raised his head and searched the surrounding bushland, the moon lending enough light to make out shapes and movement.

Indy appeared between the trunks of two ghost gums; he’d know her petite form anywhere.

Oh, shit. Had he just blown his cover?

CHAPTER TWO

INDY HAD TOSSED and turned in her swag, sleep staying annoyingly just out of reach, and now it was nearly morning. Her conversation with Finn playing over and over in her mind. She was sure she’d heard him use the wordSarge, which was odd, because that was a police reference. What the hell was a contract musterer doing talking to a cop? And Finn’s lame excuse that it was the pet name he used when he was talking to his wife didn’t wash with her. No one called their wife Sarge. At least not to their face.

Indy liked to look at the stars before she went to bed. A nighttime ritual. It soothed her, so she could sleep easier. Looking up into all that great vastness made her feel like her own problems were small and insignificant. It put her world into perspective. The stars out here were just as spectacular as they’d been back in the Kimberly, but seen from a different reference point, they were even more intriguing. Back at Stormcloud Lodge, she’d liked to watch the evening star rise up over the escarpment, appearing as if by magic above the large, red cliffs. And out here, it was different again. This was her first time seeing the stock camp, and she enjoyed the way the moon sat atop the distant hill, like a glowing ball dropped by a thoughtless child of the gods from somewhere up high.

Wandering through the outskirts of the camp, she’d heard someone talking, and curiosity drew her toward the sound. In the moonlight, she could see it was Finn, the new ringer, and he was talking on a phone. It had to be a sat phone, because that’sthe only way he’d get reception out here. Which was a little odd. He was clearly trying to keep his conversation private, if he’d come this far away from camp. She’d been about to turn away, deciding the man’s conversation was none of her business, when she heard him saySarge, and alarm bells started ringing.

Finn had shut the phone down as soon as she’d confronted him, and acted all friendly and casual, like she hadn’t just caught him doing something odd. Said that he was talking to his wife, like he did every night—trying to earn brownie points, she’d thought cynically—and he must’ve wandered farther away from camp than he realized as he chatted. Indy couldn’t argue with that, and so they’d walked back to camp together, an awkward silence hanging between them.

Indy wasn’t sure how she felt about Finn. He seemed a little…different from the other musterers, but she couldn’t put her finger on exactly what made him so. She’d appreciated chatting to him around the fire. He was cute. Actually, more than cute, he was damned good-looking, in a square-jawed, fiercely blue-eyed way. A layer of designer stubble set off his strong face nicely; no scruffy, unkempt beard for this man. He wasn’t overly cocky or rude, like his partners, Dave and Carrot. There was a confidence, a seriousness to him, that Indy found terribly attractive. Perhaps that was it. He was more refined than the rest of them. Slightly less rough around the edges, and she’d begun to relax in his presence.

That was, until she’d noticed his wedding ring. She’d almost doubled over as a sharp pain had sliced through her stomach at the discovery. Married men weren’t to be trusted. She should know.

Should she mention her eavesdropping to Dale? Or perhaps wait and tell Nash when she got back to the lodge? The local Senior Constable was a regular fixture at Stormcloud, as his fiancée, Skylar, was the resort chef. She’d got to know Nashwell over the past few months, and he wouldn’t mock her for reporting it. He was a good guy, a good cop, probably the only one Indy even came close to trusting. But still. She wasn’t exactly sure what she’d overheard. Perhaps she should keep it to herself.

She worried over these thoughts until finally, the sun touched the sky with fingers of pink and Indy got out of bed and dressed quickly. The outback might be scorching during the day, but temperatures often dipped dramatically at night.

Bindi was already up, Indy could see the gas lamps burning in the mess tent. The camp cook was always first up to make sure breakfast was ready when the hard-working hordes descended before they went out for the day.

“Morning,” she called, heading for the large steel kettle on the stove to pour herself the first coffee of the day.

“Morning,” Bindi replied, looking up briefly from where she was frying up a pile of bacon. “Did you sleep well?”

“Mmm,” Indy replied, noncommittally. No point in burdening Bindi with her lack of sleep woes.

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