‘Driver’s licence,’ Dave suggested.
‘Yeah, that’s it! Print off his driver’s licence photo. It’ll be on file. And maybe compare the security footage and DL photo for Glen. If there’s not too much difference, use the DL for him too. It’ll be clearer than the security footage. Right, when we get back to town I want you to go to the camping stores and see if anyone remembers selling Ross Pollard some camping equipment.’
‘No worries,’ Dave said. ‘How many stores in town?’
‘Four. Shouldn’t take you too long to get around them. I’ll run that print from the pub when we get back and see what it brings up.’
‘You thinking kids?’
‘Not sure. It looks like kids—it’s a break and enter without a lot of thought or organisation. Mischief more than anything. But I’m wondering if there’s an ulterior motive. Can’t work out what it would be though.’ He was frowning. ‘There’s something more, I’m sure of it. Too many odd things happening. I mean,’ he searched for words to clarify his thoughts, ‘this is the goldfields and strange things happen all the time. But I’m like you—I don’t believe in coincidences. Look at this: we start with a body. Turns out it was murder. Then we find out the dead guy was selling the land of his late father. He’s come to sign the papers and “find someone”.’ Spencer made quotation marks with his fingers.
‘Then,’ Dave continued, ‘we have Ross Pollard, who is wanting Glen’s signature, with two different stories about camping out in the bush, and a few smaller but equally odd things happening.’
They drove in silence and Dave watched the passing landscape. He’d fallen in love with this area—the country had seemed to seep into his veins quietly and now it felt like home. Last night, as he’d drifted off to sleep, he’d thought about buying a metal detector and an old ute. He could set it up as a camper and he and Melinda could go prospecting. Spend the weekends in amongst the trees and bushes. Make love under the stars and know they’d be unlikely to see anyone else the whole weekend. He’d fallen in love with the rich red dirt and open skies, the landscape and the locals. The people were friendly and he was enjoying his job. It looked like Melinda had settled in too. Maybe they could stay here a few more years.
‘Check that out,’ Spencer said, breaking into his thoughts and slowing down.
Under a large gimlet tree were three kangaroos. They were lying in the shade, propped up on their elbows watching the cars go by.
‘They don’t seem too worried,’ Dave said.
‘I guess they get used to their environment, don’t they? The noise, or lack of. They know what’s normal and what isn’t. Same as anyone.’
‘That’s it!’ Dave said, twisting around in his seat to look at Spencer. ‘I’ve been trying to work out what’s been niggling me about all these small incidents. You know, the lights, people going onto other people’s leases…oh, and the machinery being moved…It reminds me of a case I had about three years ago. I was based out of a suburban cop shop and people were ringing up reporting small things—someone had their letterbox pushed over, another found their lawn had been sprayed with chemicals and it’d died. The community centre had a few windows smashed but nothing stolen. We couldn’t work out what was going on, because none of it was particularly malicious. We thought it was probably kids.
‘Then one night we were out cruising the streets, me and a mate. I was off duty and I came across an older bloke carrying a pile of washing in his arms. Didn’t bother to hide it in any way, was just casually walking down the street with women’s clothing.
‘I started to talk to him—asked what he was up to, did he have a wife or a mother who these clothes belonged to. The answer was no.’ He paused.
‘What’d you do?’ Spencer asked as he flicked on the blinker to turn onto the main highway into Barrabine.
‘Got patrol to come and pick him up and put him in an interview room. Just to “help with our enquiries”. Turned out he hated the suburb and was trying to create fear and unease.’ Dave stopped. ‘Could that be what’s happening here? Creating enough fear that someone might be pushed into selling their land? Selling the pub…’ His voice trailed off.
Spencer was quiet for a long time. As they pulled up at the police station, he said, ‘You might just be right, you know. It could very well be something like that.’
Chapter 23
Dave walked down the wide streets of Barrabine, hands in pockets. Being the middle of the day and quite warm, there were few people out, but plenty of cars parked along the street.
He was on his way to the first camping shop when he heard his name called and turned to see Melinda walking towards him.
A smile broke out on his face and he stopped, waiting for her to catch up.
‘Hey you,’ he said, kissing her.
‘Hey back,’ she answered, slipping her arm around his waist.
‘What’re you up to?’
‘Going to grab some lunch. I’ve got an hour to spare before my next appointment. Got time to eat with me?’
He glanced at his watch. ‘Sure do. I could do with a cold drink. We got called out to Oakamanda today—Dee’s pub was given an overhaul, and not one that was beneficial—and I’m a bit parched.’
‘Oh no, that’s terrible. Poor Dee!’ Melinda exclaimed.
They walked hand in hand towards the Mug.
‘How’s your day been?’ he asked as they sat down at a table close to the back of the café.
‘I’m exhausted,’ she said. ‘Stupid because I slept well last night. I’m having trouble keeping my eyes open today.’ He reached out and took her hand. ‘Are you doing too much, do you think?’ he asked gently. ‘You’re
