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There was silence for a few seconds, and then Ryan spoke again. ‘I’ll give you a call in a week or so when you get settled.’

So, now here he was, at the mango farm. When Cy had called Kane to formally accept the job, Kane had described where the farm was and where to find the key to the shed in a magnetic box underneath the water tank.

‘We’ll be home late afternoon. I’ll see you then, Cy, and thanks so much for taking on the job. Just to fill you in, there’ll be another worker in the shed with you. A horticulturist, Tarni Morgan, but your roles won’t overlap. I’ll tell you more tomorrow.’

Cy wasn’t impressed that he was working with a woman. Ryan had nailed it on the phone. Cy knew he’d been a bit of a lair when it came to women. Up until a few years ago, anyway.

Growing up without a mother had made things tough for him as a kid; he and Joe had lived rough. They’d moved around a lot and when Joe had gone back to Ryan’s place to work as station cook when Cy was in his late teens, Cy had headed far west and worked as a ringer on a few big stations near Lake Argyle. He’d sown his wild oats, and he’d been a cocky little bugger. He’d been sat on his bum a few times over those years when he’d overstepped the mark. Not knowing any better, he thought he had to big-note himself and make himself obvious before anyone would take any notice of him.

He knew that Ellie McLaren hadn’t been impressed with him when he’d met her out at Ryan’s Wilderness Station a few years back. She’d been flying the helicopter for the muster and he’d been a smart arse, cracking his whip, showing off, trying to get attention.

Embarrassment flooded through him.

He’d apologise to Ellie when he saw her in a couple of days and tell her that he wouldn’t cause any trouble on their farm; he’d grown out of that stupid behaviour.

What Joe had done had made him grow up virtually overnight, and had changed him; Cy felt as though he was adrift in the world. Ryan had been great and kept him grounded as best he could, but no one could understand what he was going through unless they’d been there themselves.

His doctor had suggested counselling, but Cy had seen that as a weakness. When he’d lost his job at the export company his self-confidence had taken another huge hit. He might look like a tough cowboy; all those years in the sun had weathered his face and he’d refused to let his body go soft when he had an office job. He’d worked out at the City Gym every night after work and weekends to fill in the time, and been pleasantly surprised at how quickly he’d bulked up. So, the image of the big tough guy remained. But it was all a front.

Sometimes inside, he felt as weak as a kitten.

Working with this horticulturalist woman and sharing the kitchen with her was going to be a pain; he’d just keep to himself. Maybe get his butane stove and his camping fridge out and set them up in the shed if there was room. He’d check it out when he got back.

Then when she arrived, he’d speak when he had to, put his head down and do his job.

Cy locked the car and pocketed his keys and the key to the shed. Kane had warned him about keeping everything on the place secure and locking up when he was down in the orchard. The property was on the Arnhem Highway, the main road from Darwin to Kakadu, and was always busy. Cy understood; he wasn’t prepared to risk anything after what Joe had done. He knew how people could appear innocent and hide murderous and criminal intent. After the experience with his father and with Kane’s experience eight years ago, he could well understand his need for security. Cy was willing to oblige.

He headed off down into the trees to check out his new workplace. At the back of the shed was a pen with two dogs. He crouched down and let them sniff his hand and soon both tails were wagging.

How good would it be to own fertile land like this? Cy was used to the red dust of outlying stations. As he walked through the avenues of healthy trees, he marvelled at the lush green grass beneath them. He headed down to a dam he’d spotted at the back of the property and noticed irrigation pipes heading underground, they must go to the orchard. The land was almost coastal with its lush grass and healthy trees, and smelled fresh and clean. He was more used to the smell of cattle.

Cy turned and had a good look; sure enough, there was a rise along each side of the avenues. Just far enough in to allow a vehicle or a tractor to drive through without damaging them. The pipes were buried and now that he looked more closely, he could see a circular black sprinkler every thirty metres or so. The pipes were buried and ran from the dam down every avenue of about fifty trees.

A slick setup. Tidy, he liked that. Cy was keen to see what the brief for his job was when Kane met with him later. Maybe a property like this was something to think about. He could run a few cattle on fifty acres. Anticipation rose at the thought of trying something new as he walked back through the trees to the shed.

At the homestead end of each avenue of trees, a flowering rose bush climbed an arch-shaped frame, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. He didn’t think things like that grew so well out here, but when he thought about it, Ryan’s mother, his Aunty Suzanne, had had a rose garden at Wilderness Station when she was alive. When Joe had taken him to visit Ryan when they were kids, he and Ryan had been banned from playing in the front garden, but the soft green grass had been too much of a temptation for two young boys who were more used to red dust and dirt.

Cy stared at the pink rose bush. If she’d still been alive, Aunty Suzanne would have been devastated to know her little brother was in jail for murder.

Chapter 4

Makowa Resort – Saturday afternoon, mid-May

Tarni

Tarni Morgan waited in the queue at the reception desk of the Makowa Resort. A tourist coach had driven in as she turned off the Kakadu Highway on the second last leg of her long journey, and by the time she’d parked her Jeep and taken her suitcase out of the back, the passengers on the coach had disembarked and raced over to reception.

With a sigh, she joined the end of the queue of people asking questions and booking tours, patiently waiting her turn. She’d driven almost four hundred kilometres from Mataranka today and exhaustion crept through her entire body. All she wanted was a cup of tea, a shower, and a soft bed. She’d stayed the night at Mataranka because she’d heard of the restorative properties of the hot springs, but when she’d walked through the bush to Bitter Springs, she’d been disappointed by the smell and the floating moss in the water and had decided not to go in. She couldn’t afford to get sick again.

She’d opted to spend two nights at the Makowa resort to recharge her batteries. Over the last week, she’d traversed the country from Adelaide north. She’d almost completed the bottom-to-top highway and when she took a day to go into Darwin from the McClaren’s farm, she would have made it from coast to coast. Almost four thousand kilometres; her body felt every one of them tonight.

Strange how a bad life experience could affect you physically. When Jonty had been killed, Tarni had been numb for weeks. She’d refused any medication because she saw that as weak. She kept going to the research centre and buried herself in work. She didn’t have to face sympathy there, because she’d never shared any personal details with the staff. They hadn’t known she’d once had a partner, and they didn’t need to know that he was gone now.

Unusually, tears welled in her eyes and she blinked. This afternoon her body was weak, and she knew she needed rest and meditation. Finally, she reached the head of the queue and the check-in process was quick and trouble-free.

‘Ms Morgan, I’m so sorry you had such a long wait. Can I organise for a hot drink to be waiting for you in your room?’ the pretty young indigenous receptionist asked.

‘Oh, that would be wonderful.’ She glanced at the woman’s badge. ‘Thank you, Heather, for being so thoughtful.’