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  After Greta had written to Lydia to advise her that she and her husband were ending their lease to retire and travel the country in a caravan, Lydia had seen it as a sign and made the decision to return to her childhood town. It was a beacon of hope for some peace in the darkness that threatened to choke her at night, causing her to wake with a panicked shout, body trembling and drenched in sweat. Now she wasn’t so sure; her panic attacks were still not subsiding, even in the peace of Camden.

  Beside her, Bowden gave a short chuckle. ‘That Greta is one hard-nosed lady. I still remember the time she kicked out a couple of bikers for smoking pot. Heard she chased them with a straw broom, right off the premises.’

  Bowden’s humour was infectious and she laughed with him. Lydia had sat down with Greta a few times since moving back, and learned quickly it was best to just agree with whatever the elderly woman said. She hadn’t seen much of Greta’s husband, Dominic, just the odd glimpse now and then of him slipping into the shambling large shed near the cottage as he attempted to ready their caravan for their travels.

  ‘You know, I don’t recall when you left,’ Bowden said. ‘You were, what, about eight years old?’

  ‘Thirteen,’ Lydia said softly. ‘I was thirteen.’

  ‘Right.’ Bowden trailed off, becoming aware the conversation had veered into territory best left alone. They drove in silence for the rest of the way and Lydia was fine with that. She didn’t quite have her footing yet. Even though Camden seemed the same, she was still essentially a stranger. Everything felt slightly off and she couldn’t quite relax, aware she didn’t fit in. She told herself that things would change once the Solbergs left. The house had decades of strangers traipsing through its doors and she knew logically it would take a while for her to settle and make it a home.

  Bowden pulled off the road, turning onto a winding dirt driveway pinpointed by a letterbox made from a milk crate nailed to a wooden stump. The path stretched up through acres of apple trees, heavy with fruit, until an old timber house came into view, looking like it had been put together by someone who didn’t care much about the finer points of carpentry. An elderly man sat on a bench on the front porch, shotgun lying across his knees. Lydia glanced at Bowden, wondering if it was usual to be greeted by a person with a weapon. She hoped not; her nerves didn’t need the workout. Bowden just gave a weary sigh and braked near the house.

  ‘Don’t mind the gun, Sam’s harmless,’ he told Lydia, killing the engine and getting out. ‘Probably just filled with rock salt anyway.’

  Lydia followed him, trying to keep her hands away from the gun at her hip, an automatic response when faced with an armed stranger. She tried to be calm and appreciate the beautiful morning sky, a clear stretch of sapphire overhead. But somehow she couldn’t shake the feeling she was going to throw up.

  ‘Frank.’ The old man nodded at Bowden in greeting, ignoring her.

  ‘Hey, Sam.’ Bowden stopped at the bottom of the porch, resting a foot on the bottom step.

  Up close, Lydia saw Sam Tanner was a scrawny man, with snowy fairy-floss hair and oversized ears. He smoked a brown cigarette that smelled like burning tar, fingers nicotine-stained down to the knuckles.

  ‘What’s going on, Sam?’ Bowden asked.

  ‘Just like I told you on the phone. I would have called yesterday, but I was feeling a little off.’ The old man picked some tobacco leaf off his lip, then stood, shotgun in his left hand. He eyed Lydia doubtfully. ‘You sure you want to see this, love?’

  ‘Sorry, Sam, don’t know where my manners got to.’ Bowden threw a hand Lydia’s way. ‘This is Constable Gault, Jade Gault’s little girl. She’s come back after working on the police force back on the mainland.’

  Sam fixed Lydia with a shrewd look. ‘Dominic still kicking around, eh?’

  ‘He’s still around,’ Lydia said. ‘He and Greta are looking to retire. Travel the country in a caravan.’

  ‘He’ll go mad within a week, guaranteed,’ Sam predicted with a sage look. ‘Especially with that wife of his. Got a tongue on her that can draw blood.’ Sam inhaled deeply on his cigarette, then dropped it on the porch and stubbed it out with a mud-encrusted boot. ‘There’s a bit of blood out there, Frank. Maybe leave the girl in the car.’

  Lydia forced a stiff, reassuring smile across her face. ‘I worked homicide before I came here, Mr Tanner. I’ve seen worse, I can assure you.’

  ‘Yeah?’ The corner of the old man’s eyes crinkled, like he thought it was kind of funny. Lydia’s face flushed hot, remembering how lightning-fast gossip spread through towns. No doubt he’d heard about her throwing up out the back of the station. She would never live that down in a community this size. Bowden shifted aside as Sam descended the steps, shotgun cradled in his arms.

  ‘Best get going then and I’ll show you this cow.’

  They headed towards the orchards, the air sweet with ripe fruit. As they walked, Bowden and Sam talked in low voices about general town business. Lydia followed at a short distance, until they reached a small clearing.

  ‘This is it,’ Tanner said.

  The rusty metal smell of blood hit her nose like a blow and she forced herself not to gag. The blood was splattered around the small clearing and the clogging stench of iron mixed nauseously with the honey scent of ripe fruit.

  Sam scratched his neck. ‘Thought I heard something the other night, but I’d had a little to drink, which is why I didn’t call till now. One of the cows from Elijah’s farm musta wandered off and something got it here.’ He jerked his head towards the forest in the distance. ‘The cow is just behind those trees.’

  Lydia walked over to a steel drum, seeing cold, burned firewood inside. ‘Do you usually get hikers out this way?’

  Sam grunted. ‘I get kids in these fields sometimes. It’s just on picking season, so they come around, looking for work.’

  Lydia stepped away from the drum, switching off that feeling part of her, and flipped on her analytical brain as she took in her surroundings. She walked around the clearing, noting places where there was more blood. With each step, her heartbeat got a little faster until her pulse thundered. There were splatters everywhere.

  ‘Hell, Sam.’ Bowden rubbed his brow. ‘You really need to put up some signs. Something that warns people they’re trespassing. I’ll wager some crazy backpackers passing though town did this. You remember the time we had that kid from Amsterdam running through town, stark naked and hopped up on something? Kids nowadays have a pretty sick sense of fun.’

  ‘Putting up signs aren’t going to stop kids from making mischief,’ Sam grunted.

  Something on the ground caught Lydia’s eye. She crouched down, pulling a pen and plastic bag out of her belt.

  ‘What you got there, constable?’ Bowden asked, coming over.

  ‘Not sure,’ she said. Using the pen, she flipped the stiff material over. Blood obscured most of the front, but she could just make out the symbol of a dog skull. She didn’t miss the quick look that passed between Sam and Bowden as she slid the blood-soaked material into a plastic bag. ‘Almost looks like a gang patch. Isn’t there a biker bar just outside of town?’ she asked.

  ‘You talking about Dusty Roads?’ Bowden asked. ‘Sure, there’s a biker club of some sorts that runs the place.’

  Dusty Roads. The name dredged up a childhood memory in her; it was the place kids in school would whisper about. From the stories you heard, you’d have thought it was Sodom and Gomorrah itself, a seething beehive of sexual depravity and violence. She wondered if now she was all grown up, she’d be disappointed.

  ‘You don’t want to be messing around with that lot,’ Sam grumbled. ‘Those fellows ain’t nothing but trouble.’

  ‘I suppose they’ve got a few hotheads in the bunch,’ Bowden said in a cautious voice. ‘But if one of them was involved in this, Ben Jericho will see them right. I’ll go talk to him.’

  ‘You want me to come with you?’ Lydia asked, standing.

  ‘Best I go by myself
.’

  Sam was nodding. ‘If it was one of Jericho’s boys, he’ll need to make it right with Elijah. I’ll bet that cow was his and he won’t be too pleased when he hears about it.’

  ‘I’m sure Jericho will smooth things over,’ Bowden said.

  ‘The carcass is this way.’ Sam started to walk off and Bowden went to follow.

  ‘Shall I’ll collect some blood samples?’ Lydia called to Bowden.

  Both men stopped and turned to look at her. Sam pulled a crumpled packet from a shirt pocket and wriggled a brown cigarette loose, eyes shifting to Bowden. ‘Is she serious?’

  ‘A woman was found dead yesterday morning,’ Lydia pointed out. ‘Maybe it was a hunting accident, maybe it wasn’t. Either way, this animal kill is an eerie coincidence, happening around the same time as a murder. We should check everything, in case there’s a connection.’

  Sam lit his cigarette and grey smoke billowed from his mouth. ‘You think I did it. maybe? Killed that girl you’re talking about, then dragged her all the way across town and dumped her? Then, came back here and gutted a cow?’

  Bowden held up his hands. ‘Hold on. No one is accusing you of anything, Sam. Lydia is still is adjusting to how we do things around here.’ He threw her a friendly smile, edged with warning. ‘Why don’t you head over to Elijah’s farm next door, constable, and check if he’s missing a cow.’

  Lydia kept her mouth shut, trying to keep the frown from her face. She watched as Sam slung the shotgun over his shoulder and started to walk through the trees, smoke trailing behind him. There was an undercurrent between the two men, a silent understanding, and she just knew it had something to do with the Diablo Dogs MC.

  * * *

  Jericho walked around the clearing where Anna’s body had been found, footsteps springing from the thick moss underneath. Forgotten police tape draped from tree trunks like stringy bark and weak patches of sunlight cast puddles around him.

  Reaper and Blades were scouring the forest around him, even though a small army of volunteers had already gone through it. His phone rang, and and when he saw it was Frost he quickly answered, hoping he’d had some answers, since Karla was still dragging her heels on doing her part. ‘Find anything?’

  Frost’s voice came over the line. ‘Nothing in the background checks yet. I’m still working through them. But I do have something else for you. A private plane arrived yesterday morning, bringing just one traveller to town. He’s booked at the Emerald Fields Hotel under the name of Jack Smith. The plane belongs to a small surveying company called Barnett and Jones.’

  Jericho frowned, processing the news. ‘Since when can a small surveying company afford a private plane?’

  ‘Something’s off,’ Frost agreed. ‘And Barnett and Jones have all the markers of being a shell company. If that’s true, we both know who might be behind it.’

  ‘The Gatehouse Group,’ Jericho murmured. He’d heard the name of the corporate front for the Association of Breed Hunters often enough when he’d been Enforcer. ‘But he arrived after the murder, so he can’t be our killer.’

  ‘I’ll bet he knows who is,’ Frost said. ‘Or maybe he’s here to clean up a mess.’

  ‘Find out more about this Jack Smith,’ Jericho instructed. ‘Put two G1s on him, follow his every move. Especially who he talks to.’

  ‘Done,’ Frost said, then hung up.

  Jericho hesitated, then dialled Karla. He needed to know for certain if the body was Karla’s missing girl, and warn her about the possibility of a Hunter being in town.

  ‘Jericho?’ Karla’s voice crackled over a bad connection.

  ‘I’m gonna need you to find out today about the body,’ he told her.

  ‘I already did,’ Karla’s voice was subdued. ‘I sent one of the girls down to view the body, she just called to confirm it was Anna. Then she told me they were calling her death an accident? Is that true?’

  He ran a hand through his hair, fingers brushing the old scars on his face. ‘Sounds like Bowden. Path of least resistance. I’ll call him, make sure we’re both kept up to date.’

  ‘This is bad, Jericho.’

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘With the King coming, my security is under the microscope and my reputation is at stake here.’ A shrill note entered her voice. ‘I’m struggling to finish the fit-out for the cabins for Drake’s visit and now I’ll have to contend with the Breed Council, wanting an explanation about Anna’s death.’ She sucked in a shaky breath. ‘You can help me, right, Jericho?’

  He hesitated, registering the stress in her voice. He’d never heard her so rattled and the information about a potential hunter in town died on his lips. The information would only serve to add to her anxiety, and he knew from experience the more tightly wound Karla was, the more difficult she became. And he was still chasing those new dosage amounts.

  He forced a lightness in his tone. ‘You tell the Breed Council to give me a week to find Anna’s killer. I’ll have answers then.’

  He heard her exhale before she spoke. ‘I’ll pass that on. Thank you, Jericho. And you should come around anytime to talk to Renee about what you need. Anything I can do to help you.’

  ‘I’ll set up a time,’ Jericho said. ‘In the meantime, though, I need to know a few things about Anna. Do you know if she had a boyfriend? Or someone she was seeing in town?’

  Karla gave a dry laugh. ‘I know your crew bend the rules when it comes to women, but I run a tight ship. My girls don’t go on dates, or socialise with men in town.’

  ‘You sure about that?’ Jericho pressed. ‘You sure she wasn’t sneaking out to see someone behind your back?’

  Karla didn’t say anything for a moment and he knew she was thinking it over, trying to push past her ego to see the truth. ‘To the best of my knowledge, she wasn’t,’ she replied finally, but her tone was thoughtful. ‘I’ll check with some of the girls she hung around, see if they know anything.’

  ‘Let me know.’ He paused, then added, ‘Press them hard when you ask.’

  ‘I’m not an idiot, Jericho,’ Karla snapped back. ‘I know how to ask a question and get a truthful answer.’

  He hung up and pocketed the mobile, knowing he’d done the right thing in keeping Frost’s information to himself for now. He would fill her in once the situation was under control and weather her anger then. Better that than her raising the alarm and potentially bringing in outsiders to try and deal with things. It was the Diablo Dogs’ duty to make problems disappear and that wasn’t about to change.

  He headed deeper into the forest, following Reaper’s scent. He couldn’t catch Blades and wondered how the ex-bounty hunter managed it. Did he rub himself down with pine leaves before getting dressed every morning?

  The temperature inside the forest dipped, colder still with the sun slowly beginning to set. A ringtail possum watched him cautiously from a tree branch and he could catch the distant sound of running water. His nose followed a whiff of tobacco, until he came to a small clearing to find both his men lounging against tree trunks, Blades smoking a cigarette, while Reaper was sizing up a thick piece of pine he’d picked up off the forest floor, digging a knife under its bark.

  ‘Find anything?’ Jericho asked.

  ‘Waste of time.’ Blades blew a stream of smoke from his nostrils. ‘Place is too trampled with all the people they had out here. Don’t know what’s a clue, or what some helpful dickhead dropped out of his pocket.’

  ‘Bowden’s an idiot,’ Reaper grumbled. ‘He should have called us first.’

  Jericho was inclined to agree, but Frank Bowden had been the top cop in Camden for nearly thirty-five years and his relationship with the MC went back well before Jericho’s time. He was also paid well enough to turn a blind eye to the MC’s affairs, though Jericho didn’t know if he was aware of the truth behind the secretive compound beyond Dusty Roads.

  ‘Who do you think killed her?’ Reaper asked.

  ‘Not sure,’ Jericho said, ‘But whoever did kn
ew how to kill Breed. We have to assume the worst.’

  Jericho glanced around the forest. ‘Any point in staying and searching for a bit longer?’

  Blades shrugged. ‘We could always get lucky, I suppose.’

  Reaper tossed the piece of wood he was working on, sliding the knife into the sheath attached to his leg. ‘I’ll stay for a bit longer. Better than doing nothing.’

  Jericho had to agree, and together they edged back into the woods.

  Chapter 7

  Lydia sat behind her desk, frustration brewing. She picked up the plastic bag containing the blood-soaked patch and glared at it. The sun had set hours ago and she’d stayed well past her shift, but she’d wanted to finish writing up her reports while her memory was fresh.

  After the Tanner farm, Bowden had taken them to another property, where two farmers were quarrelling about a broken fence and a clumsy bull. On arriving back at the station, two women from Crystal Waters had shown up to talk Bowden. Apparently one of their own had gone missing, and by late afternoon the Jane Doe body had been identified as a resident there, Anna Lewis.

  Lydia bit back a yawn. The clock above the kitchenette said it was nearly nine, but The Jaw was still sitting behind his small desk, on his mobile again, grumbling about his day to someone, clearly upset he’d had to spend the morning setting up speed traps.

  She wondered why he was still here as well, and tried not to listen as the conversation suddenly veered into a hissed, furtive discussion about his belongings. If he was having domestic issues, surely he had friends to have a drink with? She’d noticed a framed photo on his desk, him with one arm slung around a solemn, dark-haired woman, and wondered if that was the wife. Whoever she was, she had Lydia’s sympathies. Novak had that sneaky look about him, one that said he didn’t think too much of anyone else but himself, and she figured being married to him wouldn’t have been fun. Not that she knew much about marriage; her own mother had been single, and the identity of her father never discussed in their household.