Luka and Jim were back. Tanya too had returned and was in the recording room prepping the equipment to capture every word and action, twisting, nudging and adjusting buttons, headphones cast off one ear like a DJ in the world’s smallest, dreariest club. The tune currently on deck was Mitch’s abrasive whine, talking informally to his two sidekicks Sun and MacKenzie, ignoring Gabriel at the desk. His voice came through clear, the ebb and flow of his speech pattern captured, the microphones ready to record everything from the most insubstantial detail to the last moments of someone’s life. The confessional was ready.

After a few minutes, Mitch faced Gabriel and started the interview. Gabriel’s story remained unchanged, Mitch digging but finding nothing but rock at every juncture.

‘What farms have you been working?’ he asked, his voice fluttering through the speakers like an echo from the distant past.

‘Some down around Murray River, then up to Carnarvon and Exmouth. Tomato picking, fruit picking, anything, everything. There isn’t a patch of this country I haven’t worked, or so it feels.’

‘Can anyone verify you being at any of those places?’

Gabriel shrugged. ‘You can try but it was cash in hand.’ He paused. ‘Before you say it, I know it’s not legal but if taking a bit of swag is the difference between getting a job and not then I’m going for it.’

‘The lack of an alibi seems rather convenient,’ said Mitch as if he were offering counsel rather than leading an interrogation.

‘It’s the truth,’ replied Gabriel. ‘I don’t care how convenient it is.’

Mitch went on to question him about his parents and family. From his overhead angle Chandler watched Gabriel’s calmness alter somewhat. As if a nerve had been touched. The same way it had in the car on the way to the hotel.

Gabriel explained that both his parents were dead. His brother as well. An uncle and aunt too.

‘Death seems to follow you around,’ said Mitch. Though his back was to the camera, Chandler imagined a grin worming on to Mitch’s face, a low blow, an attempt to shatter the ice from Gabriel’s veins.

After letting it linger Mitch continued, ‘How did they die?’

Gabriel said nothing. His body remained still, but his eyes were fixed. Even from afar the look unnerved Chandler.

‘They died in a car crash,’ said Gabriel.

Mitch’s nod lacked any empathy, treating it as just another piece to the puzzle. ‘And since then?’

‘Since then I’ve been wandering, Inspector. Blowing around on the wind.’

‘Very poetic,’ said Mitch, not hiding his sarcasm.

‘No. Just very true,’ said Gabriel, now irritated.

Mitch had succeeded. He had hooked the suspect and was now reeling him in through the dark, muddy waters towards the shore.

But they still had no idea what they’d caught.

20