Page 45 of Whispers of Sweetwater

‘Maybe it’s a gift, then, given what happened,’ he said, and shrugged. ‘There’s no return address, just a prepaid invoice.’ He grabbed it from a clipboard on the front seat and passed it to her. ‘Looks like some do-gooder wanted you stocked and ready to trade.’

Brianna raised a brow.

Molly blinked as she stared at the paper in her hands.

‘I’ll take it inside, drop it in the usual spot,’ Joe said from behind them, lifting a box onto his shoulder. ‘Good folks deserve a fresh start, I suppose.’

But Brianna couldn’t shake it. All of it. The librarian. The driver. Trev always there, always helping, maybe too much. There was something in the air that didn’t quite settle. But before she spiralled into conspiracies, she exhaled and told herself to get a grip. She couldn’t keep assessing everything and everyone like they were pieces in a puzzle. Not everything was a warning. Not every kindness a trap. But still, her gut wouldn’t let it go.

That afternoon, after a quick lunch and topping her medicines up in her vet bag, she turned the key in her Hilux, and the engine coughed twice and died.

‘Oh no, seriously?’ she groaned, trying again.

It revved to some sort of life, as if limping home from a drunken night out. Damn it, this didn’t sound good. She pulled out her phone, thumb hovering over Hayden’s contact. He’d know what to do, would probably even fix it himself with that calm, capable way of his. But she hesitated. No, she told herself. Not every bump in the road warranted calling him. They weren’t … that.

Instead, she scrolled to Molly’s name and hit call.

Molly answered in three rings. ‘Hey, Bri. What’s up?’

‘It’s my Hilux, it’s starting, but not sounding too good,’she explained, pressing her fingers to her temple. ‘The engine coughed twice then sounded like it barely wanted to get out of bed.’

‘Oh bugger, is it driveable?’ Molly asked, voice instantly alert.

‘Sort of, but I don’t think it’s a good thing to leave it unchecked.’

‘Okay, well, if you can, take it to Roy at Sweetwater Automotive. On Ash Street, just off the main road. His dad used to run the place, but Roy’s the owner now that his old man is retired. He’s reliable, and very well priced.’

‘Will do, thanks, Molly.’

‘If you need it, my ute’s there for borrowing, okay?’

‘Okay, thanks, Moll.’

It took a little coaxing to get the Hilux there, but within ten minutes she was pulling up outside a tin-roofed workshop tucked behind a stand of old gum trees. A sign read Sweetwater Automotive – Roy & Len Dawson, Est. 1982.

A man in his late thirties stepped out, wiping his hands on a rag. Grease smudged one cheek. His smile was easy. ‘You must be the new vet.’

‘Yes, Brianna,’ she confirmed. She wondered how he’d picked it was her, but quickly shrugged it off. ‘My old girl here has just started coughing and spluttering. Molly sent me, said you were the best in town.’

‘Ah, lovely Molly, she’s like family.’ Roy grinned and stepped past her. ‘Let’s take a look-see.’

He popped the bonnet and Brianna wandered into the shade of the shop. It was surprisingly tidy. Racks of tools. A wall calendar with horses on it. A cracked photo of a younger Roy with an older man in faded overalls. Then movement caught her eye. Someone hunched over a bench at the back.

The man turned. He was older. Maybe sixty-something, with skin like worn leather and a faded tattoo on one forearm. A smouldering cigarette was in an ashtray near his elbow, and his overalls were stained with the same grease that covered his hands.

‘Dad!’ Roy called, making Brianna jump. ‘This is Brianna. Molly’s vet friend.’

Len turned all the way around now, and his eyes swept over her. He nodded once. ‘Vet, huh.’

‘Nice to meet you, Len,’ she offered.

He didn’t reply. Just half-smiled, then turned back to his task, fiddling with a carburettor like it owed him rent.

Roy chuckled awkwardly. ‘Sorry, he’s not much for small talk. Still thinks I’m ruining the business by using computers.’

‘It’s fine,’ she said, though her skin prickled.

Something about Len’s stare, well, it was a little too steady. A little too blank. Trying to ignore it, she wandered further along the wall, taking in the dated posters and cracked linoleum floor. A breeze lifted the faint scent of grease and eucalyptus from the open back window. Roy chatted easily, explaining how he checked the dipstick, then confirmed there was more he needed to take a look at. Len didn’t speak again, just lit another cigarette and hunched deeper over his task. The silence from the older man wasn’t hostile, exactly, just heavy.