Sheepishly, Butch searched the bloodshot eyes of his Aboriginal mentor, and the patient expression on his face spoke volumes. Eddie didn’t need to castigate Butch. He’d suffered enough already for taking the inside track to Bella Creek against the wiry Aboriginal elder’s advice and now he was content just to see how Butch would explain the situation.
Butch cleared his throat before attempting a reply and when he spoke, Molly stirred in his arms but quickly succumbed to sleep again once Butch’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I love my girls above everything and wouldn’t do anything to cause them pain. Against Eddie’s objections, I took the turnoff to Bella Creek along the inside track. All went well for a few kilometres but soon it turned into a goat path and I was shocked to see how the track had deteriorated in a few months. The ute has spares for most normal things that go wrong under the seat, so a breakdown was the last thing on my mind. The inside track was so rough it shook the service ute to pieces, but we made it to the Bella Creek bore, albeit a lot slower than if we had taken the outside track. I took your advice, Bob, and searched for unusual tracks or the recent presence of a vehicle, but the cattle had been in looking for water and it was too difficult to discern anything tangible.
“My attention turned to clearing the bore pipe and getting the water flowing again for the cattle. Unknown to either of us, the ute battery had broken its restraining bracket and twisted sideways with the live terminal almost touching the vehicle body. Once we finished clearing the bore pipe, we got back into the ute and as soon as I tried to start the engine, the battery touched the frame, arced straight to earth and exploded, burning the wiring harness in a few seconds. Electrical smoke came from everywhere and by the time we put out the flames, it was evident we were stranded.”
Butch glanced up as Bob asked a question. “So, that’s why your radio didn’t work and Mishy couldn’t contact you?”
Butch nodded and then reached over carefully to kiss Mishy without waking Molly. She affectionately returned his gesture and hugged his neck before Butch resumed his account.
“I tried to salvage what I could under the hood, but the vital battery was damaged and as dead as a maggot. I knew we were in deep trouble when the ambient temperature climbed into the high forties. Eddie made a bush shelter from spindly shrubs and we had plenty of water, so we just had to wait it out and stay with the vehicle until help arrived. I decided to use the shotgun as a means of attracting attention in the vain hope someone would be passing by, but that’s when I realised I’d left it in the hallway of the homestead. My thoughts turned to your warnings, Bob, and I knew we were sitting ducks for the killer.”
Realising the stress that Butch was under and the load he was carrying, Mishy’s compassion erupted, wrapping her arms around his neck and affectionately assuring him of her love and that of his girls. Mishy then glanced at Danica and caught her tearful expression, but remembered her long heart-to-heart she’d had the previous night. Danica was still suffering silently and trying desperately to put her own needs behind so that the good of the family could take precedence, but Mishy knew the situation wouldn’t go away and as her parents, Butch and Mishy had to find a solution and soon.
Scribbling frantic chicken scratchings in his police notebook, Bob finally caught up with the story, flipping pages over as they filled with detail. “So when did Jackson and Troy show up?”
Butch glanced over at his silent rescuers and nodded before he began the next phase. “We saw a light hue coming along the track about 9 pm and as it got closer, it was evident the vehicle was damaged by the clattering noises. When the boys found the ute, we saw the outline of Troy with a shotgun, prompting Eddie and I to hide, thinking we’d been found by the killer. It wasn’t until Troy called out to Jackson that I realised it wasn’t an ambush but a rescue party.”
Bob interrupted Butch and turned his attention to Jackson, a little surprised that he would take a damaged vehicle onto a rescue mission. “Why did you opt to take a damaged vehicle on a dangerous search and rescue mission, Jackson?”
Jackson pushed his frame away from the kitchen wall and entered the conversation. “I didn’t. We were tearing along the northern boundary fence of Pearl Springs and I guess my mind had been consumed with this mongrel going around shooting people, when an old man roo stepped out in front of us. I wasn’t sparing the horsepower, figuring Butch and Mishy were in trouble and just couldn’t avoid collecting the huge roo. He knocked out one of our headlights and bent up the bonnet so it couldn’t be opened and thankfully for us, nothing of importance—except the headlight—was affected and we kept going. When we finally found Butch and Eddie, it was like a carnival in the bush, but we had no way of letting the outside world know what was happening.
“We thought of transferring the VHF radio from Butch’s vehicle to ours and trying to fix it that way, but Butch’s wiring was obviously charred and we couldn’t get our bonnet up. The next thought was how to transport everyone, and having two men riding in the back of the our ute on such rough tracks would have injured them, so we decided to tow Butch’s ute, but we didn’t have any tow ropes. Eddie suggested gutting the seatbelts and tying them together, which we did, but they kept unravelling and we constantly lost the tow. Eventually, with less than a few kilometres to go before we reached the homestead, the seatbelts unhooked themselves and tangled around our differential and stopped us dead. Butch hadn’t seen what had happened and by the time he realised and hit the brakes, he’d run into our back end.”
“We saw your headlight glow coming, then a loud bang and then the glow disappeared,” Mishy interjected. “That freaked us out and we were expecting a visit from that maniac at any moment. Then to top it all, the house lights flickered and blinked out, leaving us in the dark.”
Butch could see the terror in Mishy’s eyes as she relived the trauma. He stood, careful not to wake his baby daughter and leaned into his wife. The gesture melted away the fear and she embraced both daughter and husband in one gentle hug, while Jess and Danica completed the close family circle and added their embrace, too.
“So what happened then?” Bob kept scribbling but didn’t look up from his notebook.
Jackson waited for someone to answer, but when everyone remained silent he took the floor, “We sorted the tangle under our ute and after few anxious moments trying to get the engine started again, we finally pulled up outside the homestead, but it was in complete darkness. Butch knew what had happened immediately and asked Eddie and us to walk over to the generator shed, change over the fuel tanks and try to get the cantankerous old generator going again while he checked inside the house.”
“So what did you find, Butch?” Bob continued scribbling.
Butch sighed, trying to recall his actions. “Well, the house was completely dark and silent and I became nervous something awful had happened. I didn’t want to call out just in case it was an ambush and that idiot was holding my girls captive. So using the light from Jackson’s vehicle, I crept into all parts of the house and checked every room and when I didn’t find anything, I figured my precious family were hiding in the bathroom.”
Mishy began to tremble as she relived the terrifying story and then broke into a sobbing moan, waking Molly in fright. Danica stepped up and took Molly from her dad, allowing her dad to calm the situation with his tender love for her traumatised mother.
Through her anguish and remembering the image of feet loitering at the bathroom door, Mishy sobbed into her husband’s chest and managed to cry out, “I almost killed you!”
Bob Maxwell dropped his notebook on the table and wrapped the two people in a hug. He had finally uncovered the key root hiding in the traumatised debriefing. “Mishy, listen to me. Butch is alive and you didn’t kill him. You didn’t know who was on the other side of that door and you acted perfectly logically and lawfully. I have to tell you though, I’m thankful that you didn’t need to discharge the shotgun. After examining the weapon, I’m convinced it wouldn’t have fired at all. You had the
safety locked on!”
*~*~*~*
Chapter 55
By the time Bob Maxwell finally wrapped up his investigation, it was 4 am and every person, including the girls, had had an opportunity to tell a part of the story and that part usually coincided with the most traumatic event for them. Satisfied the prickly hidden trauma had been exposed and debriefed and all that remained was a group of tired individuals, Bob allowed everyone to retire to bed, fully aware their negative experiences and hidden wounds had been cleaned and disinfected and would completely heal with time.
The family entertainment room could’ve been compared to a shelter for itinerant people with five exhausted men asleep in any available space on the lounge room floor. Down the hall, Mishy and Butch’s bedroom resembled a family camping trip, with Molly fast asleep and squeezed in between her parents’ sleeping embrace while Danica and Jess shared a mattress on the floor by their parents’ bed. Sleep folded its healing wings around Pearl Springs homestead well into the early afternoon, but it was the incessant VHF radio that eventually disturbed the peaceful scene and drew the emotionally hungover occupants from the places they had fallen.
Whispers of the murderer’s capture and demise had leaked out of the police ranks, spilling around barred bureaucratic doorways and now—aided by the media—the whisper had turned into a raging shout, forcefully pushing open the confining bureaucratic stranglehold on information with non-affected entities demanding answers. Station people from all over the Channel Country knew something was happening—or had happened—at Pearl Springs and now the telephone and VHF were running hot with rumours, especially since Jackson Reynolds and Troy Anderson hadn’t returned to Valerie Downs—or been heard from since they’d left.
Enquiries into the Slater home via telephone or VHF were met by a busy but gruff policeman, shocking the callers simply by his presence and espousing the official line. ‘An offender fitting the description of a person of interest has been detained and all affected parties are alive and well. No further comment until an official investigation has been conducted.’ Bob then pleaded for calm and to give the Slaters room to recuperate.
However, as the day progressed, media interests began to hound the Slater residence with phone calls and VHF intercepts while several news aircraft buzzed the homestead roof, prompting Bob to make an official request to inhibit the airspace over the property. When it became obvious the attention wasn’t helping the family and only distressing them further, Bob remembered Mishy’s casual statement a few days ago, inviting him to join the family for some rest and recreation camped at Nanjilgardie. He had months of accrued leave and the family needed space, so now was as good a time as any.
With a promise to return for Bob in a couple of days, Stracky bid the family a fond and relieved farewell, boarded the patiently waiting Bonanza, completed the flight checks and cranked the engine into a throaty idle. As the runway dust kicked up and faces turned away from the stinging assault, Stracky turned the aircraft into the wind and after a bumpy run up, the Bonanza lifted effortlessly into the golden red evening sky and quickly disappeared into the vast stretching horizon. After the complex night time landing at Pearl Springs, an evening landing on Birdsville’s bitumen tarmac would be a piece of cake.
After Bob’s proposal to the Slaters had been welcomed with open arms from every member, the family four-wheel drive wagon had been hitched to a trailer, loaded with camping gear and food for an army, then covered with a protective tarp to keep the dust out. Two complete days and nights at the property’s private campground sounded like just what the Slaters needed and everyone was keen to set off at first light.
Eddie was invited too, but the wiry Aboriginal elder knew the dreaded air conditioner would be cranked up and blowing straight from the South Pole, preferring instead to travel on horseback and enjoy the offerings of the open bush, finally arriving in midafternoon, refreshed and ready to participate in the family fun.
*~*~*~*
Michael Trudgen perched his flabby frame in the driver seat of a Land Rover Discovery, aimlessly studying his surrounds through the dirty windscreen while the engine idled and the air conditioner blew cool air into his face. Feeling unwell after such a long drive, his eyes were tired and the heat seeping in through the windows was making him feel nauseous. Trudge was expected to meet the mail plane at the Birdsville airfield at 11 am and pick up Debbie Duffette, the station boss’ highest experienced—but most disagreeable—female reporter. In order to comply with his boss and collect Duffette, he’d driven through the night without a break and finally reached Birdsville’s dry desert environment only an hour ago and as usual, Duff was late.
Catching a glimpse at a flashing warning light blinking on the dash, his attention diverted to the engine temperature gauge. The needle languished in the red and now the vehicle threatened to shut down if he didn’t do something to quell the rising disaster. With a disgruntled huff, he backed the vehicle away from the Birdsville Airport fence and tried to find shade before shutting down the engine, a feat that would prove challenging in the sparsely treed town and sweltering midday heat.
Verging on melting the engine block and finding no shade, Trudge eventually shut the vehicle down outside the Birdsville Hotel. Without the aid of the struggling air conditioner, the cabin temperature quickly rose and before long became intolerable inside the closed, airless vehicle. In a desperate effort to gain relief from the relentless heat, he wound down the driver window but conceded that was a mistake as a hammerblow of intense and dry desert calefaction slammed into his face. Running out of options, Trudge wound up the window again, opened the door and quickly made his escape from the sauna and found refuge inside the hotel.
As the first mouthful of cold amber fluid flooded down his throat, he watched the Cessna 208 Caravan land, kicking up clouds of dust blown in across the tarmac from the surrounding desert. Entangled in an unwanted conversation with a bored publican, Trudge learnt the Cessna, loaded to capacity with freight, mail and passengers was running late into Birdsville after a fierce and hot tyrannical headwind forced the pilot to cut back his air speed. Finally crawling up to the hotel windows nearly two hours late, the Caravan’s engine roared and blasted the peaceful interior with a wall of annoying noise.
Typical of a Duffette entry—all noise and hot air, Trudge complained to himself.
Only halfway through his beer, he nonchalantly watched the swirling heat haze radiating off the aircraft’s exhaust until eventually, the engine noise quit and the propeller bounced back and forward on the engine’s compression before coming to a complete stop. An unrestrained sneer painted itself across his face and his top lip curled as he watched the pudgy and hard faced, short-cropped blonde waddle out of the passenger compartment and almost stupidly gawk around. Judging by the red complexion, she was struggling with the heat, too.
Draining his glass in one pleasing gulp, the disgruntled journalist had to go to work and figure out what the station was expecting from this latest assignment. From what he could piece together, there had been a German tourist taking potshots at local people and the police had taken the culprit down, but no one knew anything else and he figured Duffette would fill him in on what they were expected to do.
Before Trudge could sidle his ballooning tailpipe off the bar stool, a nasally, high pitched voice caught him off guard and purportedly nailed him in the act of enjoying himself on work time. “There’s no doubt about some people, Trudgen, sitting in a bar while others do your work for you. I’m sure Mack will just love to hear about this one.”
“Give me a break, Duff. I’ve been waiting hours in the heat for you to waddle through that door!”
Duffette threw her head back in disdain with the not-so slightly veiled gibe at her rolling figure and after some effort managed to climb onto a barstool next to her colleague. “You can buy me a beer and I’ll let your impropriety slip on this occasion.”
With two schooners sitting side by side on the bar, gas bubbles
desperately clung to the frigid glass interior, swimming in the fluid before finally disappearing into a thick, foaming froth floating on the amber liquid’s surface. Duff lowered her eyes, scrutinising the deserted bar like Sherlock Holmes looking for a suspect and when she was sure they weren’t being watched, she produced a black plastic bag and opened its mouth, clandestinely divulging the hidden content.
Playing along, Trudge leaned towards the bulging Duff and analysed the depths of the suspicious black bag. “What’s this, show and tell?!”
“No, you idiot, I took it from the plane just before I got out!”
“Well, what is it?!”
“This is our ticket to a story! It’s a package addressed to Danica Slater and it comes all the way from Switzerland.”
*~*~*~*
Chapter 56
Butch and Bob Maxwell struggled to push the heavy broken down service ute from the access road and into a nearby maintenance shed. With the bonnet up and in the pale purple light of dawn, Bob could see the battery and wiring damage firsthand.
“Ya did a good job of that, Butch. Good thing Jackson Reynolds found you and Eddie...” Bob left the statement hanging, unwilling to fill in the chilling detail of where the killer’s intended destination was most likely to be next.
Butch stared at the charred mess in desperation. He relied on the vehicle to complete station duties, but the cost of rewiring the damage just added another burden to the mounting pile. “Yeah, not sure how I’m going to work around this one, Bob.”
Bob sensed the stress rising in Butch’s crushed demeanour and slapped him on the back. “Think about it later, Butch. Your family need you more than ever at the moment and you need to be fully present for them.”