Page 103 of Stockman's Sandstorm

‘Porter can see the boy is fine.’ Dex pointed at Ash holding Mason.

Porter kept scribbling in his notepad.

That’s when it hit Ash like a micky bull’s kick to the guts. ‘You can’t take him, Porter. Mason is my son! No one can take my boy from me.’ It was worse than any other fear, worse than any burden of responsibility. It was the worst fear—the fear of losing his son. ‘He’s my son. No one is taking my son.’

Ryder’s large hand landed heavily on Ash’s shoulder. ‘We won’t let them.’

‘All right, calm down, fellas.’ Porter held up his hand, speaking in a tone he might use to calm down a pack of wild dogs. ‘I’m just doing my job. I can see the boy is fine, and you’ve taken precautions—obviously whoever called this in didn’t know about the nanny.’

‘I reckon it’s that mine. That Leo,’ said Dex, wearing his signature scowl. ‘Didn’t Leo give Harper that letter at the front gate?’

Ash peered over his shoulder at Harper, who only shrugged at him. It was the first he’d heard about her being near the enemy.

Harper was right. They needed to talk.

‘Porter, what do you know about our neighbours from Blackwell Mining?’ Ryder asked.

‘Nothing.’ Porter shrugged, taking notes. ‘How long has the nanny been here?’

‘Harper started the day after Mason arrived.’ Ash remembered that first time spotting her on the deserted outback highway, in her business suit, running after her flat tyre. It was the same morning he’d met Mason.

Ash shifted Mason to his other side on his chest. ‘Porter, what do you know about Mason’s mother?’

‘Eh?’ All his brothers looked at him. Even Porter stopped taking notes.

‘I want to contact one of Mason’s mother’s relatives.’ Did he say that right?

‘Why? They’ll only interfere.’ Dex’s face twisted as if tasting something horrible.

‘Because I don’t remember Mason’s mother. I don’t even have a photo to jog my memory of who she was. My son will have questions about who his mother is as he grows up, and I’d like to give him something. Mason deserves that much.’

‘That’s fair.’ Ryder nodded, then looked at Porter. ‘You said Mason was here because of the mother’s will?’

‘That’s right. Hold on, I’ve got the file in the car.’ Porter rummaged around in the passenger seat and pulled out his laptop, flipping open the lid, he sat it on the police car’s bonnet.

‘We know Mason’s mother was called Gemma Fallon,’ said Ryder, who had a memory for details. ‘How did Mason get here? Family?’

‘Please don’t say some foster home?’ Ash hugged his son just that little bit tighter.

Porter read from his PC’s screen. ‘A family friend cared for Mason until they tracked Ash down, as per the request in Gemma’s will that Mason live with his father.’

‘Does Mason have any family out there?’ Ash was doing this for Mason.

‘Gemma’s mother died with her in the accident, alongside her husband. Whoa, he was a federal minister.’ Porter pointed to his screen. ‘It says here he was a prominent figure in international trade and development. And Gemma had a half-sister, working overseas—which would be Mason’s aunt. The notes show they were hoping Gemma’s half-sister would make it back in time, but they found you first. Did you know Mason arrived in a private jet? Should’ve seen Mickey at the local airport when this thing landed, a whole jet for one small boy holding the hand of an air hostess.’

‘Why? Because his grandfather was a federal minister?’ Dex asked Porter.

‘No. They’re not blood related. According to the file, Gemma’s mother, Vivian, had Gemma many years before she married the minister.’

‘Name. Give us a name,’ demanded Ryder. ‘Who was he?’

‘Richard Jamison was married to Vivian Langley. They had a daughter named Harper Jamison, who works for the Australian Ambassador in Belgium.’

Ash spun around to face Harper. ‘You! You’re Mason’s aunt?’

Forty-six

Harper gulped as she stood on the edge of an abyss, from her small but terrifying perch on the front porch steps, as her entire world came crashing down.

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