Immediately, her dead eyes stare back at me. There’s a gash across her face, the skin flayed open where crows have started to feed. Strawberry-blonde hair is matted with congealed blood that’s turned black during the night. She’s fully clothed, the collar of her peach parka riding up around her neck. Bright purple nail polish looks garish against pale, lifeless skin, and beside her, one sneaker has come off, the laces still tied in a perfect bow.

  I gasp and turn away, desperate to push her milky skin and stunned eyes out of my mind.

  ‘Jesus,’ I manage, as bile climbs the back of my throat. ‘Shit.’

  I hunch over, resting my arms on my knees. I count my breaths. One. Two. Then blow my whistle – three short, sharp blasts to indicate we’ve found the scent source.

  Beside me, Koda barks, and I know I have to get my shit together. He’s done his job. He deserves to be rewarded.

  I slowly stand and slide the pack off my back. ‘You did so good, buddy, so good.’

  I force myself to sound excited and joyful. He deserves that. Koda might have fur, four legs, and a tail, but I’m still his mum, and a mum’s job is to always put her child’s needs before her own.

  His eyes light up as I take the chew rope from my pack. I swing it, and he hangs on, his entire body swaying side to side like a pendulum, counting down the minutes until the space around us becomes an official crime scene.

  This is how I was trained, to reward Koda for a successful find, but it feels wrong to play with him while Lilly’s lifeless body lies just metres away. Turning away, pretending she isn’t down there, feels wrong too. So instead, I ruffle the fur around Koda’s neck, tell him he’s a good boy, then put the rope away. I’ve done everything by the book. There’s just nothing in the manual about what to do while I wait – how to quiet the ache in my chest, or quash the desperate need to say something, anything.

  If Mimi were here, she’d know what to do. I close my eyes and try to picture her beside me. I imagine her kneeling at the edge of the ravine, dress flowing out behind her, palms pressed to the earth. She’d tell me Lilly’s spirit had become one with the land - that as she left this world, the mountain wrapped its arms around her, held her tight, and whispered, welcome, child, you are home.

  But Mimi’s beliefs about the land mean nothing to me, even if she is my grandmother. So instead, I quiet Koda and lead him a few metres back from the edge of the ravine. I close my eyes, draw in a slow breath, and do the only thing left. I whisper to Lilly’s body that I will do everything in my power to find out what happened to her.

  Chapter Two

  THE scene is an ant’s nest, crawling with police and crime scene investigators. It’s the kind of organised chaos that makes you feel like you’re in the way even when you’re not. Anyone who isn’t a cop or medic has been relegated to the sidelines and told in no uncertain terms not to interfere. As Daley and I watch them work, I shove my hands deeper into my pockets so no one can see they’re still shaking.

  ‘You did good today, kid,’ he tells me. ‘Real good.’ He doesn’t go into any detail. That’s not who he is. If he did, I wouldn’t even know what to say.

  ‘Koda did all the work,’ I reply. ‘I just tried to keep up.’

  ‘You did good.’

  I nod and glance up at him. Standing at least a head taller than me, Daley is a hulking bear of a man. His shoulders are thick and square. Time has streaked his hair with grey and it’s cut short – practical, like him. A scruff of stubble perpetually covers his chin, and every time I look at it, I wonder if he’s taking proper care of himself. But his uniform is always perfectly ironed, his boots polished to a shine. I often joke that it must be easy to keep them that way when you sit behind a desk all day instead of being out in the field, but he never bites. Daley’s never been much for jokes.

  ‘Thanks,’ I manage. ‘I… well, thanks.’

  ‘Yep.’

  He isn’t much for emotion either.

  When Wildling’s local cop, Herm Drinkwater, makes his way toward us, Daley’s body shifts a fraction, like he’s bracing for impact. ‘Let me deal with him,’ he tells me out of the corner of his mouth. ‘And don’t get angry.’

  ‘I’m not going to get angry.’

  He glances down at me, a knowing look in his eyes. ‘What? I’m not.’

  ‘Just let me do the talking.’

  Known by teenagers as Herm the Worm, Herm Drinkwater is a paunchy man in his mid-fifties. A beer belly strains the buttons of his police shirt, and on top of his head is a slice of devon – a round bald spot he tries to cover with wispy strands of hair. The only son of parents who never amounted to much, Herm grew up on the outskirts of town and, from what I can gather, was always known as a creepy boy who hung around the farms, trying to befriend the rich kids.

  Now, as the local cop, he loves to throw his weight around. Most days, he strolls down Main Street with a deliberate swagger, thumbs tucked into his belt, eyes narrowed, and giving slow nods to anyone who passes. Really, he’s nothing more than a lackey for Jack Stanton. Whatever Jack says, Herm does – just like everyone else. That’s the unofficial law of Wildling. Always was. Always will be.

  ‘Kevin.’ Herm greets Daley, then, as an afterthought, adds, ‘…Mia.’

  I nod and remind myself not to say anything I might regret later.

  ‘Not a good way to start the day.’

  ‘Nope, it’s not.’

  ‘These girls…’ He trails off.

  ‘What’s that supposed to—’

  Daley silences me with a look, and I stop mid-sentence. Herm turns and looks me over like he’s just remembered I’m standing here.

  ‘It was you who found the body?’

  I shake my head in quiet frustration. ‘You know we did.’

  ‘You and the dog, right?’

  ‘Koda, yes.’

  He glances at Koda, who looks back at him and barks. Good, I think. At least one of us isn’t bothering to pretend.

  ‘And you didn’t contaminate the scene in any way?’

  ‘No.’ I quickly replay every step, every breath, I took as I drew nearer to the edge.

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘Because I’m trained to deal with crime scenes.’

  ‘But you’ve never actually been to a crime scene, have you?’

  ‘Have you?’ I snap.

  ‘All right, that’s enough,’ Daley interjects, stepping forward. ‘If you have any questions for Mia, let’s make a time to come into headquarters and debrief. I think she’s been through enough this morning.’

  Herm clicks his tongue and adjusts his hat, a black felt Stetson that looks like it belongs on a sheriff somewhere in Texas.

  ‘Fine. Just one last thing…’

  I sigh. There’s always one last thing with men like him.

  ‘I trust you know your place in all this, Mia.’

  ‘My place?’

  Daley stiffens. I feel it in the space between us.

  ‘Yes, your place, which is nowhere near this investigation.’ His eyes dart toward the boundary of Willow’s Crossing.

  ‘If you say so.’

  Herm nods and turns his attention back to Daley. ‘Just keep her away from the Stanton property, Kevin. We clear?’

  ‘Mia’s done her job. She and Koda located the body. What else would there be to do?’

  ‘I’m just saying…’

  The rustle of footsteps cuts him off.

  ‘Oh, Jack. Good morning.’

  Together, Daley and I turn to see Jack Stanton coming up behind us, his looming figure almost blocking the sun. Dressed in a red check shirt, jeans, and aviator sunglasses, he looks like Clint Eastwood. And I’m pretty sure he knows it.

  ‘Jack,’ Daley says with a nod.

  ‘Daley,’ he replies, removing his sunglasses. ‘Hell of a morning.’

  ‘Sure is.’

  ‘What do they know?’

  ‘Not much. It’s the Daniels girl. My guess is she’s been here at least twelve hours, maybe more. Definite signs of—’

  ‘I’m expecting a full report from the medical examiner this afternoon,’ Herm interjects, stepping in closer to Jack. ‘My contacts will let me know everything, and rest assured, you’ll be the first call I make, Jack.’

  Jack Stanton studies Herm, and it’s hard to read his thoughts. Contempt, pity, annoyance. I can’t say for sure, but the weaselly look on Herm’s face leaves no doubt about how far he would go to please him.

  ‘You be sure to do that,’ Jack says eventually. ‘This circus is almost on my damned boundary line. What if Sarah had found her?’

  I glance over my shoulder toward the sprawling homestead and wonder if Jack’s wife, Sarah, is up at the window. It’s too far to see, but I can almost feel her there – fingertips of one hand pressed against the glass, pearls clutched nervously in the other.

  It’s no secret that Sarah struggled after the death of her sister. They were just teenagers when Missy drowned herself in the lake on their family farm next door to Willow’s Crossing. Sarah had been the one to find her.

  ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Herm is saying. ‘Whatever happened here, you can rest assured I’ll get to the bottom of it.’

  Jack peers over my head toward the medics pulling Lilly’s body out on a stretcher. ‘Can’t say I’m all that surprised. That girl was headed down a dangerous path. We all knew it.’

  I glance at Herm, expecting him to at least take out his notepad, but instead, he shoves his hands into his pockets.

  ‘A lot of people in town, including my wife, tried to help her,’ Jack continues. ‘The other girl too, but they wouldn’t listen. Thought it was a waste of time myself. Told Sarah as much. You know what womenfolk are like, though, always meddling and trying to fix things.’

  He sighs and shakes his head. ‘You’ll probably find it was drugs or some kind of misadventure. Was bound to happen eventually. Maybe the other one will learn her lesson now. Pull her head in.’

  I look at Daley, waiting to see if he’ll tell Jack how inappropriate this is. When, instead, he turns and gazes out at the mountains, I drop my head. Sometimes silence is its own kind of response.

  ‘You know what I’m talking about, Mia,’ Jack adds, turning his attention to me. ‘Wasn’t so long ago you were just like them, but look at you now, out here with that mutt of yours. It’s commendable, really.’

  I bite my lip to stop from screaming. Everyone in Wildling knows I have a past. In a small town reliant on farming to stay afloat, growing up with an eccentric grandmother who claimed she could hear the land weeping every time a tractor ploughed its way across a paddock made me a target. And unlike my brother, I didn’t always react well.

  ‘I think we’re done here,’ Daley says at last. ‘Great job today, Thomas. Let’s head back to headquarters. We’ll do a debrief and then get you and Koda some breakfast. What do you say?’

  My eyes linger on Jack as I decide whether to acknowledge his attempt to insult me, but in the end, just like everyone else in town, I keep my mouth shut.

  ‘Sure, Daley,’ I say with a nod. ‘Sounds good.’

  ‘Jack, is it okay with you if we cut across your boundary? It’s a lot quicker than heading back over the mountain track.’

  Jack stiffens and, for a moment, just stares out over the field. Then he spits on the ground and nods. ‘Fine, but I don’t want that dog spooking my livestock.’ He looks right at me when he adds, ‘So keep it on a short leash.’

  Chapter Three

  AS we make our way across the paddocks toward the Willow’s Crossing homestead, morning sun falls across the kangaroo grass in a pale sweep.

  I try my best to push Jack’s comments out of my mind, but with every step, they needle me, like burrs digging into my skin. I try telling myself I don’t care, but my body refuses to believe it. I hate that, again, I’ve let him get to me. Despite his multimillion-dollar cattle farm, Jack is a red-neck arsehole who, for the life of him, will never crawl out from under the past, and yet in some sick way, I still crave his respect. It’s embarrassing, wanting approval from a man I can’t stand. A better version of me would have told him to mind his own business, but I can never find the nerve. Instead, I imagine all the words I’d like to shout at him, then clamp them down behind my teeth and try not to implode.

  When the land dips into a shallow fold, I notice a shift in Koda’s energy. An electric current hums its way up the lead, coursing through my fingers and along my arm. I glance down, quickly cataloguing my dog’s every move. The flicker of his ears. The change in his tail, moving from relaxed to straight out behind him. The way he pulls against his harness.

  ‘Koda, what is it?’ I whisper, quiet enough that Jack doesn’t hear me. ‘What have you got?’

  I glance around the property, my pulse counting ahead, like it wants to get there before I do. Only cattle, as far as the eye can see. But Koda’s not looking at cattle. He’s looking past them.

  ‘You good?’ Daley asks over his shoulder.

  ‘Yep, we’re all good back here.’

  Jack’s property is pristine farmland nestled at the base of the mountains. The ground undulates here and there, but for the most part, it’s flat. I squint and stare out across the land, determined to see whatever Koda can smell.

  ‘Do you have any workers out here who tend to the property?’ I ask Jack.

  ‘It’s five thousand acres,’ he answers without stopping or looking back.

  Apparently, that’s supposed to be an answer, because he doesn’t elaborate. Daley turns and looks at me, clearly confused.

  I nod toward Koda, widening my eyes to signal he’s onto something. It takes a moment, but as Daley follows my line of sight, he picks up on Koda’s cues as well. Somewhere out here is another person. Koda is never wrong.

  Like clockwork, he begins to bark. Once, twice, three times. The sound cuts straight through my ribs. Jack glances back and scowls.

  ‘Shut that dog up,’ he growls. ‘I told you I don’t want it spooking my cattle.’

  Daley and I immediately exchange a glance. I can’t see as far as Koda can smell, but something doesn’t feel right. I pull my phone from my pocket and open the GPS app. I want to note the exact coordinates. A breadcrumb trail for later. When Daley sees what I’m doing, he shoots me a quick look that can only be read as don’t start trouble.

  Since losing his daughter to cancer nine years ago, I’ve become the closest thing to family Daley has. Likewise, growing up without a father, Daley’s gruff voice and tough love have undeniably shaped who I am. He’s a constant. Someone I can rely on. So, when Daley shoots me a look that says don’t start trouble, I know it’s probably in my best interest to follow his lead.

  I tuck my phone away, and we push on until eventually the homestead rises up before us like a mirage. Hamptons white, tennis court, inground pool, manicured gardens, and inside, a floor rumoured to be made from exotic timber Jack had flown in from West Africa. It’s a house that screams money, even when the world around it falls silent.

  Mimi calls it Infaustus – cursed. It’s typical of her to choose a Latin name, the same way she labels jars of herbs and names sketches of plants with words that no one else can read.

  She calls it that because decades ago, Jack’s great-grandfather Edgar Stanton convinced the Traditional Elders to sell him the land for a pittance. She says he cast a spell on them. Tricked them into selling. She believes that in return, the mountain spirits put a curse on Willow’s Crossing and everyone who lives there. In my opinion, there’s nothing supernatural about Willow’s Crossing or the Stanton family. I don’t believe any spells were cast or that anyone was punished for what Old Edgar did. The only magic surrounding that family is their ability to make other people’s money disappear before pulling it out from behind their ear like a novelty gold coin.

  ‘You need a ride into town?’ Jack grumbles as we stop beside the tennis court. ‘I can have one of the farmhands take you. Dog has to ride in the back, obviously.’

  By in the back he means in the open tray of a farm ute. I’ve no doubt Koda would be fine, but it’s not happening.

  ‘We’re good,’ Daley tells him. ‘Appreciate the offer, though. I’ll be in touch with any updates.’

  As we walk across the lush green lawn, past the glistening pool and Sarah’s perfectly tended rose garden, I spot Herm’s police car parked out front.

  When he catches me looking, he clears his throat. ‘It was just easier than taking the mountain track on foot. And faster. I… uh, can give you guys a ride if you like. The dog can sit in the back seat. I don’t mind.’

  Daley and I exchange a glance. It’s at least ten kilometres back to where Daley and I left our vehicles, and Herm’s car will be a lot quicker.

  ‘If it’s no trouble, Herm. Thanks,’ Daley says. ‘Got a lot of paperwork to get through after this morning’s… situation.’

  Daley folds himself into the front seat, and I climb into the back, Koda pressed up against my leg. The car reeks of sweat and cigarettes, and I quickly wind down the window.

  ‘Don’t think badly of Jack,’ Herm says, glancing at me in the rear-view mirror. ‘He’s old school. Still thinks dogs belong outdoors and all.’

  Sometimes I can’t help but wonder about the difference between being old school and just plain cruel, but I give him my best tight smile and nod. Whatever I say will be relayed back to Jack the moment we step out of the car. Best to keep my mouth shut.

  When we eventually pull up beside Daley’s white Toyota LandCruiser, the NSW National Parks and Wildlife logo emblazoned along the side, I gather Koda’s leash and slip my fingers through the door latch. I’ve got one leg out when, once again, Herm clears his throat.

  ‘I, uh, couldn’t help but notice your dog got a bit excited on the walk back.’

  Only the back of Daley’s head is visible through the gap in the headrest, but I don’t miss the way his shoulders stiffen.

  ‘It was nothing unusual, Herm,’ I reply. ‘He gets excited by the smell of cow shit in a field. Kangaroo poo. Possum dung. You name the crap, Koda gets excited by it.’