A smile returned to her face so, with the glass of milk empty, he gently nudged her in the direction of her bedroom. Within seconds she was back on her phone, thumbs tracing crazy patterns on the touchscreen, updating her status in as few words as possible. It was easy to see her being seduced by the wonders of the big, bad world outside this hole in the hedge. It worried him. Worried him that the chance to go and live in Port Hedland with her mother would appeal to her. If that was the case he was unsure if he could – or even wanted to – stop her.

24

Morning arrived with the typical regret over lack of sleep. Crawling off the sofa Chandler was gone before the house stirred.

Entering the station, Jim was wedged behind the front desk, looking awkward as he always did out front, one finger bashing loudly on the keyboard. As Chandler nodded his welcome Jim pointed towards the back office. Bathed in fluorescent light, was Mitch, his head down and paying little attention to his arrival.

Chandler approached the office. He doubted that Mitch would brief him on what he had missed, but he had a duty to ask. As he stepped closer, what had looked to be deep study of the files in front of him was in fact Mitch talking quietly into the iPhone. Chandler sidled up to the door hoping to eavesdrop on the case.

‘It’s going,’ said Mitch, before pausing. Chandler realized that rather than dictating, he was having a conversation. ‘No, I haven’t seen them yet, why would I? I’m here to work.’

Chandler’s conscience told him to step away from the door but whoever was on the other end was giving Mitch shit and this was too good to pass up.

‘No . . . Yes, I’m fine with the kids being ready made.’

An odd statement. Mitch must have thought so too, glancing up after he said it and finding Chandler lurking outside his door. For the first time since he had returned, Mitch looked nervous, his limbs jerking, reverting back to the nervy, gangly teenager Chandler remembered. The one with some empathy and compassion.

There was an audible and insistent hiss from the other end of the phone, the caller still on the line. He waited for Mitch to acknowledge his presence and then return to his call but he did neither, frozen, the dull electronic squawk from the other end growing louder.

Finally Mitch spoke.

‘I’ll talk to you later,’ he mumbled into the phone and hung up. Now off the phone the authoritativeness quickly returned. ‘Yes?’

‘Morning,’ said Chandler.

‘Is it?’ said Mitch with a scowl, rubbing his face in his palms, emphasizing the fact that he had been up throughout the night.

‘Find anything last night at the site?’