“What do you mean?”
“Some days it was hard to tell whether they liked each other or hated each other. They’d argue like hell, then ride off together like nothing had happened.”
She looked up from her notebook. “They rode off together?”
“Yeah. Bob would show up unannounced, they’d saddle up or take the 4WD and disappear out into the country. Sometimes for hours. Sometimes for a couple of days. Sometimes, Bob came back without Frank, and Frank turned up days later like nothing had happened.”
“Didn’t you ask where they were going?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Frank made it real clear from when we were kids that we never asked him what he was doing. Or where he was going. We just stayed out of his way. That’s how it worked. And that’s why none of us were worried when he rode out the last time.”
“Until he didn’t come back.”
“Yeah. Until that.”
“Did any of you ever ask where they were going?”
I almost laughed. “Fuck no.”
She tapped her pen against her notebook. “Could they have been going to the eastern outstation?”
“I don’t know.”
“Kayden …”
“I don’t know, Sapphire.” My voice came out harder than I meant. “They could’ve gone there. Could’ve gone somewhere else. Koolaroo is a million hectares. There are caves, creek beds, and gullies out there I’ve never set foot in. Frank’s been working this land since before I was born. He knows places on this property I’d never find even if I had a year to look.”
The rotors beat steadily above us.
“Okay,” she said quietly. “Sorry.”
I let out a long breath. “That paint tin you found under the cottage. If Bob or Frank handled it, their prints will be on it.”
“That would help.”
“Evidence.” I glanced at her. “Isn’t that what you’re into?”
The corner of her mouth moved. Not quite a smile. She looked back at her notebook and didn’t push any further. But I could see her mind working behind those eyes, slotting pieces together, stacking up the ones that didn’t fit anywhere yet.
I wasn’t sure whether that made me feel better or worse.
The country scrolled beneath us, red and flat, and I was lying to the one person who might actually be able to figure out what Frank had gotten us all into.
She popped the latch on her backpack, pulled out a slim laptop, and opened it on her knees. Her hair fell forward, and the chopper’s vibration made the screen jitter, but she didn’t seem bothered as her fingers moved fast over the keyboard, completely in her own world.
It reminded me of the School of the Air. She’d always looked like that when she was thinking. I used to invent reasons to stay on our school sessions. Just to watch her concentrate, even if it was only through a crackling UHF connection.
I’d wanted to watch her forever. However, it turned out forever had an expiry date.
I dragged my gaze back to the horizon and asked, “What are you doing?”
“Searching the police property register to see if Frank owns any other properties.”
I laughed. “He doesn’t.”