FLEUR

McDONALD
SHOCK WAVES

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 This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of
the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events,
locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

First published in 2024

Copyright © Fleur McDonald 2024

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying,
recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior
permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the
Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is
the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational
purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has
given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.

Allen & Unwin

Cammeraygal Country
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Crows Nest NSW 2065
Australia
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Email: [email protected]
Web: www.allenandunwin.com

Allen & Unwin acknowledges the Traditional Owners of the Country on which we
live and work. We pay our respects to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander
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book is available from the
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ISBN 978 1 76147 009 7

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 For my true north

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 AUTHOR’S NOTE

Detective Dave Burrows appeared in my first novel, Red

Dust. Since then Dave has appeared as a secondary character
in sixteen contemporary novels, including the latest, Voices
in the Dark, and seven novels set in the early 2000s in which
he stars in the lead role. These seven novels are Fool’s Gold,
Without a Doubt, Red Dirt Country, Something to Hide,
Rising Dust, Into the Night and Shock Waves.
In these earlier novels, Dave is at the beginning of his
career. His first marriage to Melinda has ended due to
issues balancing their careers and family life. No spoilers
here because if you’ve read my contemporary rural novels
you’ll know that Dave is currently very happily married to
his second wife, Kim.
I had no idea Dave was going to become such a much-
loved character and it’s reader enthusiasm that keeps me
writing about him. Dave is one of my favourite characters
and I hope he will become one of yours, too.

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 CHAPTER 1

He kept his head down, running, as the misty rain drifted

downwards in sheets. A gust of wind shifted the rain
sideways, and an extra heavy shower pelted him from
above. His hands, although cased in gloves, felt like they
were frozen around the jerry can that pulled heavily on
his arms.
Larger raindrops hurled down, seeping through his black
clothing. Everything he wore was as dark as the night. He
was grateful the dense clouds blocked out the moon and
the stars—anything that could have lit his face. A couple
of well-aimed stones had taken out the closest streetlights,
and one of the other members of the team had taken care
of the security and building lights illuminating the front of
the Kallygarn Shire Council building.
Now all three of them were under the verandah, packing
jerry cans around a sixty-litre oil drum.

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Six filthy oil-stained hands worked quickly. None of

them spoke. They had practised this many times, leaving
nothing to chance.
‘Shit,’ he muttered as he jammed his fingers between two
of the cans. He tried to shake out the pain, but the cold
had already crept through his joints, making his fingers
throb harder.
Neither of the other two said a word until minutes later.
‘Done?’ Their leader glanced at a watch. The hands on
his own watch, glowing green, told him they’d been there
for six and a half minutes.
It was time to go.
‘Thirty seconds,’ the third voice answered.
With fingers still aching, he turned and ran back towards
the black car that was idling at the end of the pathway,
ready for a quick getaway.
As the driver he was responsible for getting them out
of here safely. His heart had started thumping when he’d
slipped into the driver’s seat about an hour and a half
before, but now it threatened to break free of his rib cage
and hurl itself out into the open.
Deep breath. Check the surrounds.
Ten more steps and he’d be in the car.
The hardest part would be done.
Hopefully once they drove away his heart would stop
hammering so hard that it made him want to gasp.
A mixture of rain and sweat on his brow tickled as it
ran downwards and he swiped at it before taking a breath
and glancing along the road. The street was still empty;

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 Shock Waves

no cars, not even a stray cat, which was a stupid obser-

vation, because he couldn’t remember the last time he’d
even seen a cat.
Thank fuck. If a cat appeared at his side now, he’d prob-
ably leap to the moon.
A distance away, a streetlight glistened on the wet
bitumen and murky shadows stretched out.
Adjusting his night-vision goggles, he checked left
again— empty.
Right— car lights.
He froze.
Three steps left to the car.
Thin beams approached from the far end of the street,
reflecting on the wet road. Hissing tyres drove towards him.
‘Shit!’ They hadn’t practised being caught. In hindsight,
that’s the first thing they should have made plans for.
He looked back at the other two, waiting for them to notice.
To tell him what to do. But they were running towards him
as fast as their crouched gait would let them. They were
thirty metres from the ute.
He flicked his eyes back to the lights, thinking how
stupid he must look, dressed in black with a balaclava and
night-vision goggles, standing out here in the drizzle. A fox
caught in the spotlights.
Twenty metres.
He caught a flash of blue inside the car as its lights
flicked to high beam.
‘Jesus, is that the cops?’ he managed to whisper.
Ten metres.

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But then white blinked orange and the car turned down
another street. Everything fell into darkness again.
‘Let’s go.’ The words were said calmly, without panic, as
one of the others passed him on the way to the ute. ‘Now.’
He knew not to argue.
The last few steps to the car were the quickest he had
taken that night, and he yanked open the door, tumbling
inside. Warmth from the heater stung his freezing nose and
made his fingers burn with cold as he brushed the rivulets
away from his eyes.
‘Good job,’ the leader told him. ‘Now let’s get out of
here. Fast. We’ve got ten minutes.’
‘Did you see that car?’ he asked. Surely, they could hear
his heart pounding. Weren’t theirs?
The gears grated as he shoved the stick into first with
shaking hands. There was no getting around the panic
that was rising now. They couldn’t go back, even if one
of them wanted to. Everything they’d worked for had been
set into motion.
‘Wouldn’t have seen us.’ The answer was from the back
seat. ‘Too far away.’
He pulled at his face mask and tried to rub his wet
cheeks dry.
‘Put that back on.’ The instruction was gruff from the
back.
‘It’s wet.’
‘Wait until we’re on the open road. There might be
cameras on the edge of town.’

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 Shock Waves

He struggled to put the face mask back on, screwing his

nose up at the cold moist material. ‘Fuck’s sake,’ he said.
‘This is Kallygarn, not bloody Sydney.’
‘Fine, leave it off if you want to spend some time in the
clink,’ the front passenger said.
Angrily, he turned the steering wheel, and before long
the car exited the town boundary. He kept his foot as flat as
he dared. Even though he was wet and cold, he was grateful
the crappy weather meant most people were tucked up
in their houses, next to a fire, staring blankly at their TVs.
The front tyre clipped a rumble strip, making them
all jump.
‘Steady there.’ That voice from the rear seat was in his
ear. Soft and unruffled.
He refocused, clenching the steering wheel tightly as he
directed the car back into the middle of his lane. The pass-
enger in the front turned up the heating to full. Warm air
blasted out, causing the windscreen to fog up.
His wet sleeve smeared across the glass and he swore softly.
‘Eight minutes.’
He squinted, peering at the road in front of them, fright-
ened he might miss the turn-off.
A different type of adrenalin was running through
him now.
Euphoria.
They had done it!
They had really done it! They’d finished the job and
now they had to make it to the lookout in time. He had
to see it happen.

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Their message would finally be out there.

Around the next corner and through the large salmon
gums that lined the road, the spotlights picking up their
glittering trunks, wet from the rain.
The speedometer told him it had been one point three
kilometres since the turn-off. He pushed his foot down
now, checking each mirror and seeing nothing but black.
The sign: Knobbly’s Observation.
Blinker on. Tick, tick, tick. The only noise in the ute.
They each sat upright, holding themselves tightly, fists
clenched on their knees. Shallow breaths. Waiting. Hoping.
The car exited the T-junction at speed, gravel flying
from beneath its wheels.
‘Four minutes.’
He fought to hold the steering wheel in line as the gravel
bit at the tyres, trying to throw it from the road, but his
driving expertise kicked in and he held the ute steady until
it came out of the fishtail and straightened.
Up and up they drove, around the sharp corners that led
to the summit of the hill just outside of Kallygarn.
Inside the car was quiet. Two more corners.
Another minute ticked by.
Then they were at the top and the soft glow of the lights
of the town below were in the distance.
A smattering of illumination amid the darkness.
He angled the car so they could all see, turned the engine
off and cracked the windows just enough that the cold air
would keep the windscreen free of condensation.
‘Ten, nine, eight . . .’

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He tapped on the steering wheel, in time to the

countdown.
‘Seven, six, five . . .’
Now his leg took over, jiggling up and down.
‘Four, three, two . . .’
Bright yellows and oranges shot into the darkness before
they heard the explosion.
Slivers of fire flew skyward with trails of sparks and
debris, outlined by the light from the fire burning in the
building below.
Shrapnel began slamming onto roofs, creating extra
devastation. Noises of windows shattering and walls crum-
bling reached them.
A second explosion. Smaller but still destructive. This
one silhouetted the billow of thick black smoke that was
hurtling into the atmosphere.
Moments later, lights came on in every house in town;
high-pitched, fearful screams floated to them on the wind.
The loud screech of the fire brigade shed doors opening
echoed across the night, and then the shrill sound of
the police siren, the red and blue lights reversing out of the
station and racing down the main street in the direction
of the blast.
With binoculars, they could see every last detail; the fire
lit up the fire-fighters, dressed in yellow, pulling the hose
from the truck.
The heavy-set policeman was standing back, his arms
crossed over his chest, face awash with horror.

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People were beginning to crowd onto the streets, dressing

gowns wrapped tightly around them; others had shrugged
into jackets and jeans. Most had their hands over their
mouths, wordless at the destruction before them.
The passenger in the rear of the vehicle leaned back,
arms crossed. The rear-view mirror showed a satisfied
smirk. The face mask now lying on the seat.
‘Good job, everyone.’
‘Yeah, that’s gonna stir up some shit.’
‘Fuck ’em.’ The driver felt a rush of satisfaction. They
were unlikely partners, him and these two others, but their
goals were aligned.
They would make a difference.
‘Come on,’ said the voice from the back seat. ‘We’d
better get out of here.’

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 CHAPTER 2

‘What are you doing here?’ Detective Dave Burrows stood

at the office doorway of the Rural Crime Squad, hands on
his hips. ‘You’re supposed to be home, resting, not sitting
at my desk.’
‘Says who?’ Bob Holden was in the office chair, his feet
on the desk. This had been his desk until he had taken
medical leave recently. Now it was Dave’s. ‘Just checking
to see if the outline of my arse is still in the chair.’
Making his way around the edge, Dave put down the
pile of files he was holding and sank into the chair usually
reserved for visitors. He didn’t bite. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Fine and dandy.’ Bob’s voice was upbeat but lacking its
usual humour and warmth. ‘What’s going on here, son?
Got any good investigations on the go? Tell me all!’
Dave assessed his friend and colleague. His face had
that puffy look, as if he was on a steroid treatment, and

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his hair seemed to have thinned even more since they’d

caught up three days ago.
Still, as Bob had told him, ‘Chemo does that, son.’
‘Coffee?’ Dave asked now.
‘Nah, I’m fine.’
‘You don’t look fine,’ Dave said as kindly as he could.
‘And I’m pretty sure you haven’t and won’t be gone long
enough for the indent in your chair to be any different.’
Bob glanced around the office, as if searching for some-
thing new. Trying to pick up what they might have changed
in his absence. But Dave had refused to alter anything.
There wasn’t any point because he was sure Bob would
soon be back heading up the Rural Crime Squad again.
When they’d been paired together four years ago, Dave
hadn’t seen that Detective Sergeant Bob Holden was the
mentor he’d needed. He’d only registered an old soak who
spent as much time as he could at the pub, even during
work hours.
After a few false starts and harsh words, they had
become not only partners but best mates, and now it was
Dave checking in on Bob.
‘Where’s Betty today?’ Dave asked.
‘Ah, the light of my life,’ Bob said with the ghost of a
smile. ‘She’s working a late shift at the hospital. She sends
her thanks.’
‘What for?’
‘Taking me to the treatment the other week when she
couldn’t. She said she hasn’t seen you since then.’

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When Dave had picked Bob up from the hospital that

day, Bob had vomited before they’d even reached the
car. By the time Dave had managed to get him home,
all the older man had wanted to do was crawl into bed
and sleep.
Dave had sat next to the bed for an hour, holding a vomit
bag out for Bob three times, before Betty had arrived and
was able to give him antinausea medication. His normally
strong and energetic partner hadn’t had the power to move.
Not to go to the toilet, or the bathroom, or even to roll over.
Still, despite the cruelty of the treatment, Dave kept
hoping that every drop of chemo in Bob’s veins was on a
seek and destroy mission to get all the cancer cells in his
body. Every single damn bit of it. Because Dave couldn’t
imagine a world without Bob.
He waved away the thanks.
Bob took his feet from the desk and put them on the
floor, leaning forward to move the bucking bronco figurine
to its normal spot next to the phone. Dave had shoved it
out of the way when he’d spread out some paperwork the
day before.
‘There’s a place for everything and everything in its
place,’ Bob said, before giving a grin that ended up looking
like a grimace. His teeth had turned yellow and chalky and
his skin stretched across his face, somehow tight but saggy.
‘Now, what’s going on here that you need help with? I came
over especially, so no more comments about my looks— or
I might think you’re trying to crack on to me.’

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Dave thought Bob looked a little wistful as he glanced

across to the pile of files that had been plonked down
moments before.
He snorted. ‘You’re the last fella I’d be giving the eye to.’
‘Glad to hear it.’ Bob cracked another gnarly smile. ‘Well,
come on, cough up. Anything good come across your desk?
Or mine, as the case may be.’
‘You’re supposed to be on medical leave.’
‘Ridiculous.’ Bob shook his head as if he were disgusted.
‘I’m as fit as a fiddle—’ he paused ‘— on drugs.’
Dave laughed at the unexpectedness of the comment.
‘Well, if you’re so on song, you’d better have a read through
this file.’ He passed over a thin folder. ‘Some bastard has
shot a couple of horses from the highway. They were on
private land, in the front paddock. Owner was away for
the weekend and came back to find them both dead.’
‘What possesses some people?’ Bob took the folder and
placed it on the desk, not opening it. ‘Were they stallions
or stud breeders?’
‘Just two ordinary horses. The owner’s kids used to ride
them in a pony club.’
‘Don’t suppose there’re any cameras close by?’
‘I don’t know. Lorri was running out the door to respond
to a report of some fuel that had been stolen from a piggery
down south. We’ve been so run off our feet with you and
Parksy off crook. Two men down means we’re a one man
and one woman squad at the moment.’
Bob nodded and tried to swallow a few times.

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Dave went to the kitchen and brought back a glass of

water, placing it in front of him.
‘Ulcers,’ Bob said.
‘In your mouth?’
‘Yeah. Can be a side effect of the treatment.’
‘Have you heard how Parksy is?’ Dave poured himself a
coffee and sat back down, flicking through the folder that
was on the top of his pile. Then he stopped and looked
over at Bob. ‘If Betty’s at work and you’re here, should
I ask how you got to the station?’
‘I drove. I might not be looking the best, but I’m still
operational—’ he wagged his finger at Dave ‘—to a point.’
‘So, you’re lonely and decided to come in here and give
me the shits, did you?’ He looked over the rim of his mug
and saw the twitch around Bob’s mouth. Good. They all
needed a laugh right now.
Parksy was only three months post a major heart attack
and surgery, while Bob was having treatment for mela-
noma. A few of the constables had commented recently
that joining the stock squad wasn’t good for your health.
‘I knew you’d be missing me,’ Bob said, flipping open
the folder to look at the information on the two horses that
had been shot.
‘Don’t be so sure.’ Dave’s tone held humour. He repeated
his earlier question. ‘Any news on Parksy?’
‘Last I heard they were ready to book tickets to go to
France, Germany and Italy as soon as the doctor’s okay
came through.’ Bob paused to line up the pens and paper
on what had been his desk. ‘Pretty big disappointment,

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really. He’s a great team member and we could do with

him back here.’ He looked around and spread his hands
out. ‘I thought this job meant everything to Parksy; the
way it does to me.’
‘Maybe the missus pulled rank. I’m still waiting for
Betty to do that to you.’ Dave was serious. Bob and Betty
had only been together for a couple of years, and he knew
Betty had many plans and dreams for them both.
‘Like to see her try.’ Bob’s tone was gruff. ‘You’re pretty
short-staffed, son, just to state the obvious.’ He brought
a shoulder up in a half shrug.
‘Well, it’s a good thing we’re not too busy then.’ There
was no way Dave was going to let Bob worry about
what was going on at the office. His partner had bigger
things to think about.
Dave picked up three thick files and placed them out
of Bob’s reach.
‘I think we’ve all had a pretty good reminder that we
don’t know when our health is going to give us a swift
kick up the arse because we’re not invincible,’ Dave said.
‘True enough, son, true enough.’ Bob flicked through
the sparse information on the horses then pushed the file
away. ‘What are we going to do to get you some more help?’
Dave gave a soft snort and shook his head. ‘You really
think the brass are going to throw a few more detectives my
way? Every other squad is screaming for more manpower,
too. The other day a fella asked me what was more
important, kids or cows.’

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‘Hard to argue with that.’ Bob’s strength seemed to

disappear. His head dropped into his palm and he looked
at Dave with weary eyes.
Dave pretended not to notice. ‘We make do. Always have.
This isn’t something you need to concern yourself with.
Karly Hepworth, the constable I met up in Meekatharra
when we were looking into Leo Perry—remember that
guy who disappeared when the fire went through his farm—
she had her name down to do the detective course. She was
keen to join us.’
‘That’s a start. What about Shannon?’
‘I don’t think she’s got any desire to join the stock squad,’
Dave said with a grin as he thought about the forensic
pathologist he’d been seeing recently.
‘Idiot,’ Bob muttered, rolling his eyes. ‘Like that was
what I meant.’
Dave studied Bob. ‘Want me to take you home?’
‘Now why would I be wanting you to do that?’ He
flipped open the folder again.
‘’Cause you look dead on your feet.’ Dave was quiet for
a moment, then added, ‘I bet you a slab of Carlton Draught
you haven’t read a word that’s written on the first line of
that report.’
Bob ignored Dave. ‘Let’s talk about how we’re going to
get you some more detectives.’
Dave folded his arms and leaned back in his chair. ‘What
are you doing this for, mate?’
‘Doing what?’

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‘Seriously, Bob, why are you in here? Betty would murder

you if she knew you were at the station. Not sure I’ve got the
ability to keep her out of gaol if she does that either. I bet
she thinks you’re tucked up in front of the fire at home.’
‘Where else am I supposed to be?’ Bob asked simply.
‘This is my life. It has been for over thirty years.’ He
stood up and walked to the wall, stopping in front of a
framed certificate. ‘My first award,’ he said. ‘Back when
I was a young whippersnapper. Reckon I would have
been about your age when I got this, son. The bravery
award. You’ve heard me talk about the story. The car acci-
dent; the family that died. The people I pulled out. I’ve got
the burns to show from it.
‘I remember them every day, just as I remember every
other person I’ve helped, every other victim of crime.’ Bob
took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice strong. Then
he put his fist to his chest and thumped it lightly. ‘They’re
all in here. They won’t leave me and I won’t leave them.
‘So, you tell me, son. Where else am I supposed to be?
Sitting at home waiting to die? Ha! Nah, that’s not for
me. This—’ He spun around and faced Dave, his arms
outstretched towards the office again. ‘This is my life. Betty
is going to have to understand that. And if she doesn’t,
well . . .’ His voice trailed off.
Dave nodded. He understood. When the hardest, most
awful things had been going on in his life, he had always
buried himself in work, too. It was that responsibility
towards the public when they were lost and vulnerable

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that had kept him going. That duty had always fired Dave
on, along with every other copper he knew.
‘Anyway, son, I’m not dead yet. Stage four melanoma
doesn’t necessarily mean a death sentence, so I’m told. Plus,
I’ve still got a few things I want to do here.’
‘But the chemo knocks you around?’
‘Yeah, gives me a bit of a tickle from time to time.’ He
threw Dave a glance. ‘You saw that first-hand. But that’s
not gonna stop me, is it? Wouldn’t stop you either.’
Dave nodded again, and waited, his mind ticking over.
‘Right, enough of this talk,’ Bob said after the silence
had stretched out for an almost uncomfortable length of
time. ‘What about these horses?’
Without answering, Dave got up and tipped what was
left of his cold coffee down the sink and poured another
one as he thought about Bob’s statement.
Wouldn’t stop you either.
Bob was right. His responsibility was to help.
Dave hoped he wouldn’t live to regret the words he was
about to say. ‘Well, if you’re feeling up to it, I’ve probably
got something a little more meaty.’
Bob raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been
holding out on me, son.’ He took his handkerchief from his
pocket and mopped his brow, before taking a long drink
of the water Dave had placed in front of him.
‘I don’t know that holding out is quite the right term,’
Dave said with a grin. ‘How about we get back on the
road? Just you and me, like we’ve always done. You’ve got
a two-week break on your chemo, haven’t you? So let’s

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go and hit up some abattoirs, check the paperwork and

stock and remind everyone we’re still around. The abat-
toir in Stockdale has started up again recently and the new
company has employed a few of the blokes that were there
before, but there’re some new ones, too. Wouldn’t hurt to
show our faces.’ Dave looked at his friend expectantly.
Bob stared at him deadpan, then shook his head as if
disgusted with Dave. ‘The something “more meaty” you
have for me is a trip to abattoirs. Don’t give up your day
job or start a career in comedy.’

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 CHAPTER 3

‘I’ve written all the instructions out clearly so you shouldn’t

have any issues,’ Betty said. ‘He’s got to take tablets at break-
fast, lunch and before bed. Some he has to take with food.
Please make sure he doesn’t miss any of them, Dave . . .’
Betty’s voice trailed off, but she came back strongly. ‘I know
he’s got his watch alarm set in case he gets busy during the
day, so he shouldn’t miss the timing.’
‘No worries, Betty.’ Dave checked inside the bag,
glimpsing the handwritten instructions.
‘And if he gets a temperature or starts to feel even the
slightest bit unwell, you’ll have to bring him back to Perth,
Dave. Immediately. Not tomorrow or the day after. Like
yesterday.’
His stomach sank a little. ‘What does it mean if he gets
a temperature?’
‘He’ll have an infection somewhere. The chemo decreases
his immune system and makes it harder for him to fight

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anything off. If the doctors don’t get on top of it right away,

then there could be . . . consequences.’ Betty looked down.
‘Right.’ Dave wished he’d taken a bit more notice when
Bec and Alice had been sick. He could remember some-
thing about Panadol, and Melinda saying it helped bring the
spikes down, but it wasn’t a medicine he’d ever administered.
Betty was watching him closely, her face showing her
misgivings. He couldn’t let her change her mind now.
Straightening quickly, he placed the bag of medicine care-
fully on the back seat and smiled over at her. ‘Not a problem.
I’ll look after him, Betty.’ He made his voice convincing.
Betty shifted from one foot to the other, and Dave
suspected she was trying to work out if he was up to the
task.
‘I’m sure there won’t be any problems,’ Dave continued,
‘but how about I send you a text every night we’re away?
Then you’ll know how Bob is, and if I’ve got any questions
you can answer them. Does that sound okay?’ Dave smiled
now, putting his hand on her shoulder.
With a sharp glance, Betty covered his hand with hers.
‘Please, you’ve got to be careful with him. He’s not as well
as he’s pretending, and the chemo . . . it really knocks him
about.’
‘But he comes good a few days after each treatment,
doesn’t he?’
As if unwilling to admit this, Betty gave a half nod.
‘But he hasn’t been having the chemo for too long. Once
it builds up in his system, there’ll be more bad days than

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good in between each session. We won’t really have any

idea how it will affect him until it happens.’
Dave’s heart squeezed tightly. God, his mate was having
a tough time as it was. He didn’t need things to get worse.
Moving away quickly before turning back to her, Dave
held her eyes. ‘If I could, Betty, I’d take the treatment for
him. Bob’s my best mate and I hate seeing him like this,
but this trip is really important. It might perk him up a bit.
Give him something to hold on to.’
Tears filled Betty’s eyes. She blinked them away before
they could spill over. ‘I agree, but please be careful.’
‘I’ve been wondering—’ Dave cleared his throat as he
tried to find the words he needed. ‘No one has said anything
about Bob’s prognosis . . .’ He let his voice trail off.
He watched her swallow a couple of times, then it was
her turn to clear her throat.
As she was about to speak, the front door was flung
open with a great shove and Bob stood on the doorstep,
overnight bag in hand. He looked torn between excitement,
relief and concern.
It seemed everyone was a bit nervous about this trip.
Betty started to fuss again, probably pretending that she
and Dave hadn’t been talking about Bob. ‘Dave’s got all
the medication on the back seat and I’ve given him clear
instructions on when and how you must take them all.’
Dave shot a glance at Bob, who was looking longingly
at the troopy’s open passenger door.
Betty touched Bob’s arm. ‘You’re going to be a long way
from the doctor, sweetheart.’

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‘Reckon they’ve got docs and hospitals in the places we’re

going to. No need to fret,’ Bob said, patting her shoulder.
She paused, then stared Bob straight in the face. ‘I hope
you really enjoy yourself, my love.’
Bob turned to her and smiled. ‘Dave here is reasonably
responsible, you know.’
‘It’s not him I’m concerned about,’ Betty said, throwing
Dave a wan but amused smile. ‘I know how persuasive
you can be when you want something. Don’t listen if he’s
wanting to do anything stupid, Dave. Promise me.’
‘But what’s stupid? How do I tell?’ Dave asked with an
innocent look.
Betty couldn’t help but laugh this time, while Bob
smirked and put his overnighter on the ground.
‘You know exactly what I mean.’ Betty pretended to
look indignant.
‘Nope, not getting involved,’ Dave said, holding up his
hands and backing away. ‘Only going to say I’d like him
alive as much as you would, Betty.’
‘For god’s sake! Stop it, the two of you,’ Bob said. ‘We’re
only going away for a few days.’ He put his arm around
Betty’s shoulders and turned her towards him. ‘Now, give
us a kiss and head inside. There’s a good—’
Betty swatted his hand. ‘Don’t you dare pull that good
girl stuff on me, Bob Holden.’ She landed her lips hard on
his and then disappeared inside the house.
Bob gave Dave a knowing wink. ‘Well, there you go,
son. For some reason that good girl stuff gets her all hot
and bothered under the collar. Not sure why.’

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‘Couldn’t imagine,’ Dave said and slammed the back

door shut while Bob got into the passenger’s seat.
‘Ah, this will make a nice change,’ Bob said as Dave
turned the key. ‘I’m sick of bloody hospitals and doctors
and needles and being stuck inside. Let’s get out bush where
we can both breathe better.’
‘Sure thing, boss.’ Dave started the car and headed
towards the highway.
‘What’s the plan?’
‘I made some calls to the new Stockdale abs and they’re
expecting us tomorrow. Thought we could stay at Hydmere
tonight, then head down to Stockdale tomorrow.’
‘Son, we could make it to Stockdale today.’ Bob’s face
creased into a frown.
Dave nodded. ‘We could, but if we take it slowly you’ll
probably find the rest of the trip a bit easier.’
‘Oh yeah? Did Betty tell you that? I reckon she’d prefer
me to be wrapped up in cotton wool and locked away from
the rest of the world, but I don’t see any point in that, do
you? I’d rather drop dead chasing some bastard who’s just
nicked a couple of hundred cattle than cark it in some
hospital bed.’
‘If it’s all right with you, I’d rather you did neither.’
Bob shot Dave a look and didn’t answer.
The ticking of the blinker filled the silence and Bob
moved in his seat, pulling the belt away from his neck.
Dave had to grip the steering wheel tighter to stop
himself from looking over. Was Bob uncomfortable? In
pain? Tired? Could he breathe?

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They were questions Dave knew Bob wouldn’t answer,

unless he was asked them straight and he chose to give the
information. Which would only happen if he was close to
dying. Inwardly, Dave cursed the tough Australian male
exterior. Life was much bloody simpler if everyone just said
what they were thinking and feeling. What they needed
help with. It was easy if you knew you were going to make
someone laugh or smile, Dave thought, but those hard
conversations—they weren’t simple or easy.
Shannon’s words from their last dinner popped into
his mind.
‘Do we have something here, Dave, or is it still a fly-by-
nighter for you?’
He’d watched her twist her long dark hair around her
pointer finger as she spoke, looking at him intently. Dave
loved it when she did the finger and hair thing.
What did he want? One moment he was sure that
he wanted Shannon to be around all the time, and then he
got frightened.
‘You haven’t answered my question,’ Shannon had said,
this time more quietly. She’d picked up her wine glass and
sipped so she could hide her shaking hands.
But Dave had noticed. He’d smiled and reached for
her, entwining his fingers with her free ones. ‘It’s not a
fly-by-nighter,’ he’d meant to say. Instead words he hadn’t
practised came out. ‘It’s pretty hard to have a proper
relationship when you’re a pathologist and I’m a detective,
isn’t it? I mean, you can be called away at any time, and so
can I. I wonder how that will work for us later down the

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track. You know, if it got really serious and we decided to

have kids or something.’
As he’d said the words, his stomach had clenched into
fists and he’d wanted to double over with the pain. At
that moment he knew with certainty that there would be
no more children for him.
Shannon had taken another sip of wine and was then
quiet for so long Dave had been frightened she’d never
speak to him again.
‘Son?’
Starting at Bob’s voice, he realised the car in front of
him had moved forward at the green light and he was
holding up the traffic.
‘What’s bothering you?’ Bob asked.
‘Nothing. Everything is fine. Are you okay?’
Dave felt Bob’s eyes on him.
This time Dave looked over. ‘Okay?’ he asked again.
A moment passed before Bob answered. ‘Now, son,
I think we should get something clear. If whenever I move,
cough or blink, you think I’m dying we’re going to have
trouble. How’s about we just get on with the trip as we
normally would. None of this cotton wool shit. Last time
I looked you’re not Betty.’
Dave gave an appropriate reluctant smile, glad that Bob
hadn’t pressed him further about his own thoughts. ‘I think
Betty would like it if I monitored your every movement.’
‘And then reported back,’ Bob agreed. ‘Probably every
hour.’ He fixed Dave with a steely stare. ‘And that isn’t
going to happen, is it?’

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‘Not on my watch. You’ve got to be a little understanding,

though. Betty loves you and wants to know you’re all right.
I’m stuck in the middle here. But, look, I do understand
what you’re saying about watching you like a hawk. I’ll try
not to let the nurse in me come out too much.’
‘Don’t worry, son, you shouldn’t find it hard. Not in
your nature.’ This time Bob gave a wicked smirk. ‘Now,
update me on everything I’ve missed out on with your life.’
‘Nothing to report.’ Dave changed lanes as they headed
towards the hills and out through the state forest. ‘Mark
is still holding control over Melinda, and she seems pretty
happy with that.’ Dave’s ex-wife had always let her father
take charge. ‘They’re keeping the girls under tight rein,
too.’ It had been a while since Dave had had any contact
with his daughters, Bec and Alice. To be fair, both the girls
were still too young to call or write to him.
‘I can’t imagine Mark sitting down at night and helping
them write something to me unless it read, I have won and
you are still married to the job.’
A familiar anger bubbled inside him. He took a breath
and kept talking. ‘No letters from Melinda or the lawyers
about letting me have some custody of the girls. Sweet
FA.’ He tightened his fists around the steering wheel as he
thought about the last parcel he’d posted to the girls. A few
weekends had been spent in bookshops, searching high and
low for a story with a kelpie as the main character. He’d
given both girls stuffed toy kelpies earlier, telling them the
dogs would never leave their sides, especially if they were

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frightened. If Dad couldn’t be there for his daughters, the

kelpies would be.
When finally Dave had found what he’d been looking for,
he packaged it up and dropped the parcel to his lawyer’s
office. Mark had forbidden him to know even their postal
address. His lawyer, Grace, would post the book out and
then charge his account triple.
There had been no reply.
‘Maybe that’s a good thing,’ Bob said. ‘I know you want
to hear from the girls, but whenever you hear from the
lawyers or Mark, without stating the obvious, you get
a bit uptight, so let’s run with the no news is good news.’
Dave didn’t answer. That wasn’t exactly true.
‘Bec’s birthday last week, wasn’t it?’ Bob ran his open
palms up and down his pants as the sun danced across
his lap.
‘Yep.’ Dave glanced out the window, racking his brain
for another subject that didn’t involve hospitals, cancer,
death or his family. Something without emotion.
‘Couple of good footy matches on the weekend.’
What the hell? Bob and he didn’t talk about footy. They
only kept track of what was happening in the AFL because
footy was a great conversation-starter in the bush.
Bob just ignored his attempt to change the subject.
The trees on either side of the road were thick as they
wound their way through the hills. Rubber marks covered
the road where young hoons had given their cars a workout.
There were plenty of plastic chairs tied to the trunks of the
tall gum trees.

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An empty chair meant someone had died there in a car

accident. An empty space at the table.
His mother-in-law, Ellen, had been shot by a criminal
who had been seeking revenge on Dave. Memories over-
came Dave as he heard Bulldust say, ‘I’ve lost my patience,’
then a gunshot. Then a second shot, mixed with screaming
and shouting and Ellen falling backwards, while his young
daughter, beautiful little Bec, had blood streaming from
her mouth and arm.
Sometimes Dave felt like his daughters had died along-
side their grandmother because he rarely saw them now.
When he did, the visits were short and sharp, never more
than an hour long and usually in some out of the way place.
All thanks to Mark. That bastard had managed to
convince Mel that Dave’s choice of career had put them in
danger that day and would continue to do so for as long
as he worked as a copper.
‘Three?’ Bob asked.
Dave blinked, then frowned. What had they been talking
about?
Bec. Her birthday.
‘Ah, four.’
‘I’d like to say that time has gone quick, but it hasn’t
really, has it? Not when you think about all the shit that’s
gone down since Bec was born. Did you get to see her?’
‘Just put a birthday present in the mail via Grace.’ Again,
he felt Bob’s eyes on him. ‘What else am I supposed to do?’
His tone was louder than before, feeling judgement, even
though he knew there wasn’t any. ‘I couldn’t just turn up

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at the house, could I? I don’t know where they live, and

if I did find out, Mark would probably have me arrested.
Now that’s a good look. A detective with a rap sheet.’
The rage sat heavily in his chest. These days he didn’t
want to belt someone or find a hitman for Mark— oh yeah,
in the early days he’d flirted with that idea. He would’ve
been able to find one easily, too.
In the end he’d decided he couldn’t put his girls through
any more death or grief. No one that young should lose
access to their own mum, because she was too lost in the
deep depths of her own sadness as Melinda had been.
Dave’s rage had become helplessness, and then anguish.
And he knew that, in time, the loss would decline and one
day he might start to feel normal again. Might being the
operative word.
Or perhaps it would become that new lot of buzz words
he’d read in a magazine a while back: A new normal.
It sure as hell couldn’t be the old normal.
‘I didn’t say a word, son.’ Bob’s words were heavy. ‘I’m
sorry you didn’t get to see her. No word from your lawyer
then?’
‘Radio silence. Nothing since I signed the divorce papers.’
‘Divor— What?’ Bob turned in his seat now and looked
at Dave fully. ‘You never said anything about any divorce.’
‘You knew we were always going to get there. Mel
wanted it. Mark wanted it. Actually, I reckon that fucker
needed it. Just waiting for the final court date before it’s
official.’ Dave shrugged as if he didn’t care, trying to ignore

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the stone that had found its way through his veins and into
his heart and sat there constantly now.
Bob clapped a heavy hand onto Dave’s shoulder. ‘Shit,
mate, I’ve been caught up in my own stuff. I had no idea.’
‘You’ve had more important things on.’ Dave glanced at
the speedo, making sure it was a steady one hundred and
ten. He knew the patrol cars loved hiding on the side roads,
or driving slowly along the highway, catching people who
thought the laws weren’t for them. Even as an officer, he
mostly liked to obey the rules that were for everyone. Not
necessarily the ones inside the force, though.
‘When did all this happen, son?’
Dave hated the rough-gentle tone of Bob’s voice. He
swallowed. ‘Last week. Bec’s birthday.’
‘Bitch,’ Bob breathed. ‘Bet they did that on purpose.’
Dave shrugged and changed the subject. ‘I had a letter
from Mum.’
If what was left of Bob’s eyebrows could have shot off
his forehead, they would have. ‘Your mother? Geez, son,
what else have you been keeping from me? When was the
last time you heard from her?’
‘Who knows. My brother has disappeared, and she wants
to know if I can help look for him.’
‘What did you say?’
‘I haven’t answered her.’
Bob snorted. ‘Why am I not surprised? Has anyone told
you that you are the epitome of an ostrich?’
‘Not since the last time you did.’

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Bob shook his head as the forest line made way for
open paddocks covered in a rich, deep green of wheat
crops with grey granite outcrops and the occasional large
salmon gum tree.
‘Well, you’ve just strengthened my resolve not to die,’
Bob said, a laugh in his voice. ‘I was pretty keen on that
anyway, but you’ve just proved you still need me around.’
Dave let out a bark of laughter. ‘If that’s what it takes,
mate, I’m happy to have a screwed-up personal life for
you to fix.’

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