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  'Looking at these tracks I'd say the sheep have already been in for their morning drink,' Dave commented. 'It's not that hot, so they may not come back in again tonight. Maybe if we head over towards that creek line, they might be camped up in some shade.'

  'Windmill looks like it's working pretty well and the trough is clean. I'd say someone has been by recently to clean it out,' Craig observed.

  'Garry does all the maintenance on the bores and machinery, apparently. Geez, I reckon you could have a disaster out here in summer if things weren't maintained. Stock running out of water and so forth.' Dave shuddered at the thought of thirsty animals hanging around empty troughs in forty-degree heat. 'I think Jack is the lackey who cleans out the troughs, does boundary fence runs and all that sort of general work. Bulla seems to be the head stockman and the other two lend a hand with the stock when it's needed.' Dave lifted his binoculars to his eyes and surveyed the gum-tree-lined creek. 'Can't make any sheep out over there, but we'll go and have a look.' They climbed back into the car and Dave eased it into gear. Craig took control of the binoculars, scrutinising every inch of the landscape.

  'Hey, look over at eleven o'clock, Dave. Looks like there's an old building that's been let go to ruin. Want to have a look?'

  Dave swung the car towards the ruins.

  'Look at those stones. They're huge.' Dave shook his head. 'I don't know how the early settlers tamed this land.'

  The men walked around the ruined house marvelling at the way it had been built. The pug looked like it had been made with mud, clay and water, without a setting agent. The sheep were making themselves at home around the ruins, Dave observed, looking at the sheep manure that was dotted through the two rooms.

  Walking over to the creek Dave looked up at the towering red gums. They must have been hundreds of years old. The galahs on the branches were squawking to each other, and Dave could hear sheep bleating in the distance. Turning to locate the sound, he saw a mob of sheep walking down the creek towards them. He quietly made his way back to the ruins, where Craig was still poking about, and settled himself behind a crumbling wall. Motioning to Craig, he put the binoculars to his eyes and watched. Craig sat beside him with his own pair trained on the sheep. Quietly, one by one, the sheep followed a well-worn path at the edge of the creek, unaware of the watching men. Some of the lambs ran ahead and some stayed with their mothers. Some ewes followed nose to tail with the one in front and others seemed to be more individual and strayed off the path, but not by far. They walked quietly except for the occasional bleat of the mums to ask where their lambs were. Dave couldn't believe how easy it was to count them. Two, four, eight, ten, fifteen. As the tail of the mob sauntered past, Craig said, 'What the bloody hell is five hundred and thirteen plus eighteen?'

  Dave grinned as he stood up. 'Well at least I know you got the same count as me. Five thirty-one. All the earmarks on the ewes match as Billbinya's earmark, same with the lambs, and the numbers match what Bulla has given us. No problems in this paddock.'

  'Dave, have a look at this.' Craig pointed to a cigarette butt. 'Looks like someone else has been here recently too . . .'

  Dave squatted down and looked at the butt, then looked around, trying to ascertain where it could have come from. 'Probably nothing – one of the stockmen. Let's poke around a bit more and see what we find . . .' He stopped as Craig indicated a half bottle of rum stashed in a hollow mound of rocks. 'Interesting,' he said with raised eyebrows.

  Chapter 23

  Jack saw the police officers before they saw him. They were sitting around a fire eating big steak sandwiches. Jack had a choice. He could pretend he hadn't seen them and push his mob further to the west, or he could introduce himself. Probably time for introductions, he thought. He'd be able to get away with not staying long since he was shifting a mob of sheep. Leaving the animals he rode towards the men.

  'We seem to be in the right places at the right times,' said Craig.

  Jack pulled up and took off his helmet. 'G'day, I'm Jack Marshall,' he said. 'I guess you're the fellas Gemma told us about checkin' out the stock.' He stayed astride his bike, not offering his hand. The other two men stayed sitting as well, their hands full of food.

  'G'day. Yeah, Dave Burrows and Craig Buchanan from the stock squad. Shifting a few sheep?' Dave nodded towards the grazing animals.

  'Yep, on their way back to Reimer's paddock. These fellas are hungry and lookin' for their paddock. Prob'ly should get 'em there. Catch ya anon.' Jack nodded to the men and put his helmet on.

  'A mob of yellow tags haven't long headed down the creek line,' called Craig as Jack started the bike. Jack waved his hand to show he'd heard and rode back to his sheep, knowing their eyes were still on him.

  It was nearly five o'clock and Jess was pacing the kitchen floor when the phone rang.

  She snatched it up. 'Jess Rawlings.'

  'Ah, Ms Rawlings. Rodney Woods here. I've received the authorisation from Gemma Sinclair and I have files containing the information you requested here in front of me. If you would like to ask your questions, I'll do my best to answer them.'

  'No problem, Rodney. I think I should explain the situation. Since you're situated in Adelaide, you may not have heard that there have been allegations made that Adam Sinclair was involved in stock stealing –'

  'Absolutely preposterous,' Rodney broke in. 'That man was as honest as the day is long.'

  Jess raised her eyebrows. 'Well, actually, there does seem to be some evidence to the contrary. However, that isn't the main issue since Adam has passed away. It seems that there are some inconsistencies in the payments to his parents. The payments were coming from the Billbinya operating account until the last two years. It seems that since then, the payments to Ian and Joan Sinclair have still been made, but not from the business operating account. My hypothesis is that Adam became involved in stock stealing due to financial hardship. He had to find a way to make the payments and, somehow, this opportunity presented itself. He then was paid for his services, the money was put in a separate account and the payments to his parents were made from that. I need to know how these payments were made and from where, so if Gemma comes under investigation – and it appears the police do suspect her of some involvement – we are armed with all the relevant information. This is why Gemma requested my audit.'

  There was a long silence as Rodney Woods digested this information.

  'I'm shocked,' the accountant said finally. 'I thought Adam was a sterling young man. So much vim and vigour. As for forward thinking, he had an exceptional knack for predicting things in the stock industry. However . . .' Rodney cleared his throat and Jess could almost hear him straightening his tie and shifting in his seat ready to deliver his findings. 'Um, yes, however, I do believe there are bank records not accounted for and I do know that the payments to Ian and Joan were coming out of this particular account.'

  Jess felt like dancing, but held her breath. Surely it couldn't be this easy.

  Rodney cleared his throat again. 'I'm sure you're aware that, as an accountant, I would make notes of bank account details, share reference numbers and the like. When Adam visited me two years ago to tell me he'd been bequeathed a large amount of money, I made a note of the bank the account was held at and the amount of money deposited there, however I neglected to record the account number. I have since regretted not having this detail.'

  'Hang on a sec,' Jess interrupted. 'Are you telling me that Adam received a large amount of money through an inherit ance and he's been using this money to make the payments to Ian and Joan?'

  'That's correct. And because it was an inheritance – and therefore tax free – it wasn't necessary for me to see the statements, hence I didn't pursue further details. I asked about accruing interest and he told me he wouldn't receive any interest on the money for four years as it was tied up in an investment scheme. I asked to see the paperwork regarding this peculiar investment, however he failed to produce any documents.' The accountant sighed. 'As much as
I'm having trouble believing that Adam was involved in something illegal, your hypothesis could very well be correct given the lack of information I have regarding this particular bank account.'

  Jess had been writing furiously on her pad while Rodney was talking. Before she could say anything, Rodney spoke again.

  'Miss Rawlings, I have a great deal of respect and admiration for Mrs Sinclair and what she is trying to achieve. I'd be very uncomfortable if she was having problems such as you've described.'

  Jess felt herself softening. He did have a heart, it seemed. 'Thank you for the information and your candidness. I'll start some research and question Gemma about this alleged inheritance. I may need to speak to you again. Would that be okay?'

  'You're more than welcome to call me at any time.'

  Jess hung up the phone absently, her mind whirling. Well, that was a bombshell. Looking at her watch, Jess decided it was too late to go to Billbinya tonight, but probably too early for Gemma to be in the house. I'll leave a message, she thought.

  To Jess's surprise, Gemma picked up the phone on the second ring.

  'Hi, Gem,' Jess said. 'What are you doing in already? I thought you'd be slaving away in the sheep yards.'

  'Jess!' Gemma sounded pleased. 'How's things?'

  'I've spoken to Rodney. Now tell me, what'd he do? Swal low a dictionary?'

  Gemma let out a peal of laughter. 'And so posh sounding, hey? We inherited him from Ian and Joan. Not sure where they picked him up from, but he advised us on the best way to succession plan so we just kept using him when Adam and I took over Billbinya. It saved having to explain everything from scratch to a new accountant. He is actually a tremendously nice guy. Very gentlemanly and all that. Did he have anything interesting to say?'

  'Well, once I could understand him, yes, he had some extremely interesting information. Has Adam received an enormous inheritance from some rich old relative in the last couple of years?'

  'What? Don't be stupid.' Gemma laughed at the notion. Then she stopped. 'Why?' she asked.

  'Well, I was right. There is another bank account that we haven't got access to. Adam explained it to Rodney by saying that he'd been the beneficiary of a large inheritance. He was using the money to make the payments to his parents.'

  'Well, he hasn't received any inheritance that I know about. Although, I'm not sure I'm the right one to ask, since I don't seem to know him as well as I thought,' Gemma said bitterly.

  'I think he's been putting the money from the stock stealing into that account and using it to pay his parents that way.'

  Gemma said, 'Well, that's all very interesting, but I doubt there was ever an inheritance, so I guess that means we're back to finding the source of this other income – which seems to be pretty obvious, I guess.'

  'Yeah,' Jess said.

  There was silence until Gemma said, 'I suppose I'd better go and shed up tomorrow's sheep. Had a really big dew here this morning so it was a good thing we'd put the sheep undercover overnight. Can't shear wet sheep and all that.'

  'I was going to come out tonight, but I think I'd like to try and track down this other bank account. It's at the Inland Development Bank. You don't happen to have seen a statement from them?' Jess asked.

  'Pretty sure I haven't. We've never banked with them at all that I know of.'

  'Righto, I'll get onto it tomorrow. Too late to do anything about it now.'

  'Hey, Jess, did you sort out that man of yours?' Gemma asked tentatively.

  'I got him sorted all right. Gave him the flick.'

  'Oh, Jess. I hope you didn't do that because of me.'

  'Nah, time for a change anyway. Can't have fellas bagging my mates. Plus he had begun to annoy me. Just little things, you know? Like not turning up at the Jewel the other night. Or he'd turn up at a party three hours late and stuff like that. So Saturday night was just the final straw. Nah, stuff him. Don't like tardiness. I gave it to him over the phone on Monday.'

  'You did it over the phone? Jess, that's so heartless.'

  'It didn't seem to bother him. Anyway, I'd better get going. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Seeya.'

  Jess hung up before she revealed how hurt she had been by Brad's casual dismissal. Gemma had enough to worry about without feeling like she had to comfort Jess.

  * * *

  Dave and Craig had set up camp for the night. They had made it through five other paddocks and none seemed to have any problems. The stock looked happy and healthy and all had the same ear mark. Dave was stretched out on his swag with a beer in his hand looking at the stars. Craig held a beer in one hand and with the other poked at the fire with a stick. The flames warmed his face as he stared into them. Shaking himself, he jumped up. 'Off to see a man about a dog,' he said.

  Away from the fire, the night was pitch-black. No moon tonight. Craig had to walk cautiously through a landscape he didn't know well. He relieved himself, zipped up his strides and stood silently listening to the sounds of darkness. A mopoke call and the bark of a fox. Some cattle bellowed in the distance, but the sound stopped as suddenly as it had started. He was just about to turn and go back to the camp when a new sound caught his attention. Craig listened carefully until he was sure of what he'd heard. Looking around, he saw no sign of any lights or movement. Heading quickly back to camp he couldn't contain his excitement.

  'Dave. Hey, Dave. Get off your arse and come and listen to this,' Craig whispered hoarsely.

  'What's the matter?' Dave said sleepily.

  'Come on!'

  'All right, all right.' Dave stood up, grabbed the torch that was next to his swag, and followed Craig into the darkness.

  About fifty metres from where they camped, Craig stopped, stood still and listened hard.

  'Can't hear anything,' Dave complained. 'You're joshin' with me.'

  'I'm not. Shut up and listen.' They stood quietly for a full five minutes and then they both heard it. Dogs. Barking. Dave and Craig were camped too far away from the Billbinya homestead and Bulla and Garry's house to hear the dogs from either place. According to the map, this was the most isolated part of the property.

  'Okay, let's have a look.' Dave's tone was urgent now. 'I think they are only a few k away by the sounds. Might be a bit further, noises can carry a lot further, especially when it's cold and clear like it is tonight. Can you dig out the night-vision goggles and evidence kit? And make sure you grab the GPS unit so we don't get lost. I'll get the camera. Got your gun?'

  They grabbed their tools, made sure the fire was safe and walked out into the night. Pulling the night-vision goggles on, they made their way swiftly through the open paddocks and into a creek bed, following the sound. Every so often they had to stop and listen. The dogs didn't bark all the time. Craig stumbled, fell and swore as he grazed his knee.

  'Shh,' grumbled Dave. After about fifteen minutes of solid walking, the barking was closer. Dave held up his hand to signal a stop and they waited. The barking seemed to be only a few hundred metres away. Looking around, Craig could see a patch of thick bush nestled into a gully coming down off a hill, near the creek they had followed. He motioned towards it.

  After careful surveillance, Dave said, 'I don't think there's any stock stealing going on here. I wouldn't think you could get stock through bush that thick. So it's either wild dogs or someone is keeping dogs in there. Go steady and cover me.'

  They walked quietly into the bush, their guns pointed towards the sky. Craig kept glancing behind and around them then back to Dave. Dave suddenly crouched down and Craig followed suit. Looking over Dave's shoulder, Craig saw a man-made clearing. Two dogs sat in a roughly made yard, surrounded by sheep yard panels, coils of wire and a bundle of steel posts. This was someone's stock-stealing kit. Craig breathed deeply, his heart pumping.

  One of the dogs lunged towards Dave as they caught the smell of the two men and then both brindle-coloured dogs started a frenzied bark that echoed through the silent night.

  'Shit,' swore Dave. He took a couple of deep br
eaths, then raised the camera again, motioning for Craig to video the scene. They moved slowly around the site, keeping well clear of the dogs. Seeing a cigarette butt, Dave gloved his hands, reached into his back pocket and found an evidence bag. From his other pocket he pulled out a pair of tweezers and picked up the butt. Behind the dog run there was a half-empty bottle of rum. Dave held it up for the video camera. Craig zoomed in on it while Dave fossicked in one of his many pockets for a ruler. Placing the bottle on the ground he held the ruler up against the bottle so they could see the size. 'Want to fingerprint it?' Craig whispered. Dave shook his head.

  After about five minutes of videoing they began to back out slowly. The dogs were still barking and Dave was keen to get out of the area before their owner turned up. One thing he was certain of: whoever owned these ferocious dogs didn't camp here. There wasn't any sign of a swag, fire or cooking equipment. It really looked like the dogs fended for themselves and someone came by every so often to feed them.