The two suspects held the stare, both silent. Gabriel didn’t move, a vein popping from his sweaty temple. Inside the cell, Heath’s face twitched, his eyes blinking irregularly. He looked scared.

Heath broke first.

‘He’s a lying bastard,’ he screamed, striking his fists hopelessly against the steel door. ‘Admit it, you bastard! Admit that you picked me up, took me to that place and tried to kill me. This lot might be too dumb to realize it but I know.’

Gabriel turned his head away at this, eyes closed as if trying to compose himself. Drawing a long breath he looked first at Chandler and then Mitch. ‘I’m not . . . He’s . . .’ There was another deep inhalation. ‘Can we please go? Now? I’ll help you find those graves, those people.’

It was another hot day in hard country. Chandler sat in the back, guarding Gabriel, and Mitch rode up front with Roper. After putting up a fight, Gabriel’s lawyer had remained in town. Behind them trailed four police cars with a convoy of news vans closely behind them. The terrain was especially challenging for the vans but each made it up the forest track, their vehicles obviously as dogged as the reporters inside.

Chandler watched as the tiny car park, cut into the trees and rock, appeared in front of them. Like everything up here, it hadn’t changed in years. He peered into the front seat to gauge Mitch’s reaction. There was no flicker of recognition.

Pulling up, Chandler kept Gabriel hidden from view as the reporters were corralled into the far half of the car park. A hurried press conference was arranged, Mitch shouting over the murmur, explaining to the crowd of microphones that they were taking one of the people of interest back to the scene to gain a better understanding of the timeline and events.

‘What events?’ asked a sharp reporter.

‘To say anything at this time would be premature,’ said Mitch, bringing disgruntled mumbles from the crowd.

‘You haven’t said anything yet,’ noted an anonymous voice.

Another spoke up. ‘Are you in a position to charge anyone? And if so, for what crime?’

They were valid questions, thought Chandler, and questions they’d have to deal with soon now the lawyers were involved. They would have to charge one man – or both if Mitch had his way – soon. It was either that or let both go. He studied Gabriel’s reaction to the clamour that he had caused and was being shielded from. There was nothing, passive, as if he were purely background, a minor player rather than lead actor. Like Mitch, he seemed to be able to mask his feelings. Or had erected a shield to what he had experienced. And survived.