Page 28 of Down the Track

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‘Not as far as I know.’

Jo handed her plate and cutlery over as Maggie reached for it. ‘You’d think me being out there—an extra set of eyes and ears looking out for this guy—would be a good thing. I’m trained in observation.’

‘Why don’t you go visit the police station and suggest that? Oh.’ Maggie was looking down, a frown on her face. ‘I see you’ve hogged the crossword in theEcho.’

Jo looked at the page in front of her. ‘Um. Sorry. I left the hard ones for you.’

‘In that case, you’re forgiven. Did you read the front page?’

‘No. Why?’ She flipped back to the front page and focused on the byline. ‘Why would a kid be writing the news?’

‘Dunno,’ said Maggie. ‘Some smalltown school community involvement thing. It wasn’t that part that I found annoying. It was the negative commentary about our local helicopter business. Those boys bring tourists into this town that keep places like mine ticking over.’

By boys, Jo assumed she meant Charlie and Hux. Given the depths of her own financial woes, it was hard to feel sorry for a woman who probably had more money in her till than Jo had in her savings account. Jo began scanning the article.

‘But if you and the Cracknells make a big find out at Corley Station, I expect you’ll bring in a heap of experts.’

Jo looked up.

‘Who’ll all be so busy and important they’ll need to be flown out rather than face a bumpy two-hour drive over crap roads.’

Jo grinned. Then she laughed. ‘Oh, Maggie, I wish. If we do find anything—and that’s looking very iffy at this stage—museum workers like me are expected to work on a no-frills budget. We eat cold beans out of the tin. Zipping about in helicopters is a one-off, I can assure you.’

‘Huh. Well, now you’ve destroyed my mood as well as your own, why don’t you hop along to the police station. Do you some good to go for a walk rather than sit at my bar moping all afternoon.’

That wasn’t a bad idea, even if it was delivered with less tact than you’d expect from someone who made their living in the hospitality industry. ‘Can you point me in the right direction?’

The publican snorted. ‘You city folk. So clueless; no wonder you can’t finish a crossword. Head outside, love. Look left. Walk about two hundred yards. You can’t miss it.’

Jo grabbed her hat from her room before she left the pub, nodding at a young woman who marched through the door with a scruffy-looking terrier under her arm as she was leaving.

The main street would have taken about three minutes to traverse if she’d had anywhere specific to go. She found the tiny, old-fashioned building that housed the police station a short walk to the left as promised, but when she pressed her nose to the windows, she saw no lights or movement inside. There was no police cruiser parked in the lean-to out back, and the sign sticky-taped to the inside of the glass door didn’t encourage her to think waiting around in the heat would be fruitful: CALL000FOREMERGENCIES. She loitered long enough to read the notices in the window: a reminder that Santa would be on the fire truck doing the rounds of town on Christmas Eve, a media release asking for help from the public:

Police are appealing for assistance from public and private airfields which store or sell aviation fuel within a radius of 800km of Karumba Airfield in Carpentaria Shire, Qld, which have, in the days since Friday last, sold fuel to person/persons unknown not regular customers of the airfield.

Anyone with knowledge of such a purchase is urged to contact Police Watch.

Nothing that involved her. Jo left the police station and continued walking along the street, stopping to read every poster in every window and ended up at the newsagency-slash-gift store, where she stood in the doorway to take advantage of the airconned air escaping, swiping away at the flies that wanted to land on her arms. But there was only so much time you could spend loitering outside a shop without actually going in and buying anything. So, what to do next?

The scruffy little dog she’d seen being carried into the pub earlier attached himself to her while she investigated the bougainvillea growing in the garden beds down the centre of the wide main street. He was missing a leg, but it didn’t seem to slow him down any, and she was just reflecting on the fact that three-legged canine company was better than no company when he scarpered off down a dirt driveway in pursuit of a cat.

On her second lap of the street, the afternoon heat won the battle and she sat on an old timber pew outside the pub to take advantage of an oscillating fan bolted to the side of the building that was creaking back and forth. Being stuck here in town was getting her nowhere. And if the dig site was going to be out of bounds for days, well. What was the point of her even being here?

Her phone bleeped and she snatched at it. Was it the Dirt Girls with news? Jedda? Luke?

Camp’s going great.

Holy cow, Luke had answered the text that she’d sent only—she looked at her watch—seven hours ago. Not a ‘miss you’ or a ‘hurry home’ or an ‘xoxo’ in sight, but it was communication, and that was good, right?

She typed a rapid reply in the hopes her son was still in a receptive mood.

Awesome! Any funny stories to share??? I had a bit of a setback here on the helicopter flight out to locate the dig site.We think we found the place where we need to dig, but the police were there! State Emergency Services were there too, and a police chopper that had all sorts of aerials coming out of its roof and gear strapped to its landing skids. They were looking for some guy who might be missing. They made Hux (our pilot) leave straight away after we landed, so we didn’t even get a chance to look around, so now I’m hanging around in Yindi Creek like a bad smell, waiting for the local police to return to the police station so I can ask them when I can head back out. How’s the new goal keeper working out?

Miracle of miracles, a reply came straight away:Got a blood nose first day but after that good.

Yikes!!!! Who chucked the ball?

But the conversation had apparently gone on long enough because Luke went full radio silence. However, the brief exchange was enough to lift Jo’s blue funk a little.