Page 73 of Stockman's Showdown

‘Leo doesn’t scare me.’

‘But he knows you have a family.’

The thought of his family in danger in his home only made his guts churn to hard concrete. ‘If Leo gets busted, what’ll happen to him?’

‘By the sheer commercial volume, I’d say a minimum of fourteen years. But he’ll lose all his assets, unless he proves he’s made a purchase with legitimate funds, like his land.’

‘There was no bill of sale for Leo’s property. He never paid any stamp duty or land tax, nothing. But he’s got his name on the property title without any mortgage to it.’ Which clearly demonstrated the level of powerful contacts Leo had within the government system.

It made Marcus frown deeper. ‘How do you know?’

‘I had my lawyers do a property search when Leo tried to take our water, which he’s now blatantly stealing from us. I’m puttinga cap on this, Marcus. Two weeks, maximum. I don’t think any of us will handle the pressure longer than that without snapping.’

‘It’ll be over before Leo can harvest, I promise you that.’

‘Good.’ Fourteen years didn’t seem long enough for Leo, who was just slippery enough to escape prison time. Leo also had more than enough money to make bail and hire a private jet to skip the country.

Meanwhile Marcus had limited resources, with a small and somewhat inexperienced crew, looking after an area as big as a European country.

Ryder did not want Leo to get away with what he’d done to Bree and Charlie, and the fear he was now causing his own family. This was his home, he’d bought it specifically for his family, and he’d defend it to the death if he had to.

He followed Marcus out into the main foyer where poor Porter was being hassled by Charlie, while Bree picked over the evidence on the large table.

‘There you are,’ said Charlie. ‘Are you done, son?’

‘I am. Where to next?’

‘The morgue. We were talking about walking over, but I like riding in that beast of yours. Makes me feel all important, you know.’ Charlie grinned, wiping down his shirt as if wearing a fancy tie. ‘But I gotta ask before we skedaddle, what’s happening with that gold there, Marcus?’

‘We’ve locked it up in the evidence safe until you’re ready to do something with it,’ Marcus said, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe of his office. ‘Legally, they’re yours—but until we close the file on the case, it’s safer in our hands. You know there were two boxes of gold ore?’

Charlie’s grey eyebrows disappeared under the brim of his hat. ‘Two boxes?’

‘There was a bigger box the bodies were leaning against,’ said Porter. ‘It was a heavy sucker, too.’

Charlie scratched the back of his head, as if trying to remember. ‘I only saw the first box… That must be my brother’s nest egg he wrote about in his letter. It’s what Harry was going to use to start his new life with Penelope Price.’

‘Now it’s yours, Charlie.’

‘What will I do with it at my age? Might be a good little nest egg for the granddaughter.’ Charlie winked at Bree.

‘I’m fine, Pop. Spend it on yourself or donate it to your favourite charity.’

‘Isn’t that you, kid?’

She grinned, while angling her head at the photos spread out on the table. ‘Porter? Was there a length of elastic in the evidence you brought in from archives?’

‘Um, yeah…’ The constable rummaged through the plastic bags to find the right one. ‘Here. Don’t know why that was there. But then again, they botched the entire investigation.’

‘That’s not a nice thing to say about the police department while wearing the uniform, with your boss standing right there.’ With her phone, Bree took a photo of the elastic band, picking it up to feel it through the plastic as if trying to work out its dimensions.

What was up with that elastic band? Bree had pointed it out when they were going through the murder file only last night—although that felt like a year ago now.

‘Back then, South Australia Police ran this investigation,’ explained Porter. ‘The officer in charge of the murder case had only been on the job for a week, I feel sorry for the guy. They didn’t have the training or the tools we have today, and all this poor guy was given was a uniform, a set of keys to the station that was basically a room with a cot for him to sleep on, a police car that struggled to drive on the dirt tracks, and a phone line that kept dropping out. The poor guy had no support.’ Porter shrugged, looking around at the modern police station.

‘How do you know all that?’

‘I went through his notes, and I can read between the lines. That constable was a lot younger than me, simply ordered to take photos, bag up everything, and send it down with the body. Even if my maths isn’t the best, the measurements he made were all wrong.’

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