Chandler was left disappointed that another of his crew had been impressed by Mitch but in Luka’s case Chandler could see the appeal, the same naked ruthlessness in both to get ahead. There was no doubt Luka was a good officer, eager to learn, eager to do, but he also exhibited a recklessness that seeped into his private life. He had already gone through most of the eligible women in the town like a particularly virulent flu. Each of his crew fostered a clique they mined for information: Tanya, the eager tongues of the mothers’ circle; Jim, the wet, blue-collar tongues down in the Black Stump and Luka with his female twenty-something brigade, which he was slowly alienating by dating then dumping. Chandler got the impression that Luka thought he could walk on water.

They were a kilometre south of Turtle’s when Chandler spotted it, smoke rising into the sky deep in the scrub forest, the grey hand of a drowning victim waving for help above the surface of the trees. Anticipation rose in his chest. He tried to still it, reminding himself that it could be nothing and directed Luka a further ten kilometres down the road to the hidden entrance to Bluff’s Bluff – a joke name from a former mayor who refused to let a dirt track be named after him.

They wound uphill, the car struggling on the rough, hairpin bends, increasing altitude, with the thin line of smoke passing in and out of view.

Chandler ordered Luka to park short of the car park. Getting out he prepared to hike into the scrubland his two suspects claimed to have scrambled through. He hauled on a backpack filled with water and other essentials. He didn’t expect to be up here overnight but he wasn’t going to get caught out.

Donning his own pack, Luka asked him, ‘So which one do you believe?’

‘We’ve been through this, Luka. First we get some evidence and then—’

‘Your gut feeling, Sarge,’ interrupted Luka. ‘We all have a gut feeling. I’m picking Heath. He came in at gunpoint, was caught trying to steal the car, attacked you and the doc. It all points to a certain cunning, an ability to plan and the temper necessary to murder.’

Chandler drew the straps of his backpack tight. He was trying to ignore Luka but the young officer had some valid points. He had experienced first hand the menace Heath offered but despite all of the arrows pointing to Heath, he couldn’t rule out Gabriel. His varied demeanour from bag of nerves to icy calm nagged at him.