Title: Bob ain’t the only crook in the room
Date: Couple of years back. In the middle of a fuckin’ killer drought
I kept reading while Kayden read his page in silence.
* * *
Bob ain’t the only crooked bastard I’ve dealt with in my time. Thought you lot oughta know that.
There was a politician. State member or some bullshit that don’t matter. His name was Aiden. Or Allen. One of those names that belongs on a dog, not a man who’s supposed to be runnin’ the state.
I’ll call him Allen. Near enough. Showed up at the front gate wearin a new hat that still had the crease in it. He shook my hand like a dead fish and talked about the battlers of the bush and how he understood the land. Stupid bastard didn’t know jack shit.
But that man understood money. That much I’ll give him.
Anyways, Allen got it in his head that the Royal Flying Doctor Service needed a new airstrip out this way, and he’d pegged my land as the ideal spot.
But the strip Allen was pushing for was gonna be on the edge of Koolaroo. Right near the eastern outstation.
So I told Bob. Thought he’d wanna know.
Week after that, I got a call that the runway was never gonna happen. No explanation. Just gone. Like it never existed. Allan probably got enough cash off Bob that he didn’t even need to be a stupid politician no more.
That’s how these things work. Nobody wrote nothin down. Money just ends up where it needs to be to make a problem go away.
Bob sorted it. And the eastern outstation was ours again.
I put the page down. “Jesus, Kayden. This note implicates Bob in some serious corruption.”
Kayden’s fierce gaze held mine. “This one, too. It’s about Cassidy and some poor bastard who lost his leg.” He swallowed hard.
Using the end of my finger, I flipped up a couple of folded pages still in the box. “There’s a heap of these notes in here.”
“Bob mustn’t have seen that box,” Kayden said.
“Thank God.” I looked at Kayden. “We shouldn’t remove anything from a crime scene, but we can’t risk leaving these here.”
“I agree. But Sapphire, if Frank was explaining what the hell was going on, then I need to take these notes to my brothers and sister. We have to read them.”
“I agree. You grab that box and the notepad. Be careful with that top page. I’ll get some more photos.” I pulled out my phone and moved fast around the kitchen, snapping a bunch of photos from different angles. Bodies. Knives. Blood splatter. The broken rum bottle. The chain in the corner. The bullet hole in the ceiling I’d put there myself.
“Come on, Fire, we have to go,” Kayden said from the back door.
His old nickname for me was a distraction I didn’t need. Clenching my jaw, I took one last look at the kitchen, running through my mental checklist, then I raced after him down the back steps. We sprinted across the yard and squeezed through the gap in the fence to the back paddock. Dry grass whipped at our legs as the last rays of the sun cut long shadows across the yellow grass ahead of us.
“Why would Frank write all that stuff down?” I said between breaths. “Is he dying or something?”
“Not that I know of. I’ve never seen Frank write down anything like that in his life.”
The ground was uneven as we ran over cracked clay and loose stones. Kayden was favoring his left side but not slowing. My heart was pounding by the time the yellow wattle flowers came into view alongside the chopper.
“Frank’s on the run,” I said as we closed the distance. “Where do you think he’d go?”
Kayden didn’t answer straight away. He pulled open the passenger door, helped me up, then handed the Chivas box and notepad up to me, before racing around to the pilot’s side.
I set the box on my lap, and we both clipped on our harnesses.
“Koolaroo is the only thing Frank ever cared about,” Kayden said, reaching for the controls. “He was born there, and he’s worked the land his whole life.” He flicked a few switches. “If he is dying, that’s where he’d want to take his last breath.”