‘O’Day has the warrant for the call log now,’ Ryder said, looking up from his phone, ‘and Brown is still working through the tractors that have been bought and sold and, I’m told, going quietly insane.’

Benson chuckled. ‘It’s a hell of a job. I couldn’t hand it on quick enough.’

‘Benson, can you type up the progress reports and upload them so they’re up to date for Sterling?’ asked Ryder.

‘Yes, Sarge.’

‘Good.’ Ryder stood as a strong gust of wind slammed against the windows. Outside, ravens were calling to each other and flying around between the trees, a sign that snow was on the way. Ryder moved to close the curtains. ‘So, we know from our forensics reports there were no traces of illicit drugs found in the plane wreckage, or in Lorrimers’ house, or the boat at Lemon Tree Passage. Our drug theory is weak.’

‘It is.’ Flowers shifted aside as Ryder went over to the wardrobe. ‘And why wouldn’t Art Lorrimer want to sell? The guy hasn’t been near the place in years, you’d think he’d want his money. I would.’

‘Let’s follow up on Heidi and Ethan’s alibis for the night Art flew in,’ said Ryder, shrugging on his jacket. ‘Starting with Rodney Garrett.’

‘Sounds good to me,’ said Flowers.

Flowers and Ryder stood side by side at a garden gate, staring at the rundown farmhouse at the end of a dirt road on the outskirts of Jindabyne. On their arrival, two guard dogs stood up from where they’d been lying in a patch of winter sunlight and began patrolling the dust bowl behind the fence that passed as a front yard.

‘Heidi goes from the rolling pastures of White Winter Station to this,’ said Flowers, shaking his head. ‘I’ll never understand the female mind.’

Access to the property via a driveway was also blocked by a locked gate. There were no cars to be seen, but the driveway led to a large iron shed built close to the house with its roller doors closed, so it was impossible to tell if anyone was at home.

One of the dogs, a black-and-tan mixed breed, bared its teeth and began to growl. The rumble started deep within its throat and grew louder the closer it came to where they were standing. Soon, the second dog, a tan-coloured boxer, was doing the same.

‘Do your magic, Dolittle,’ said Ryder.

‘No problem, Sarge.’ Flowers set off around their car’s bonnet and opened the driver’s door. The wail of the siren sent the dogs into a barking frenzy. Flowers turned it off and came back to stand beside Ryder. ‘Now he’ll know we’re here.’

Sure enough, a curtain twitched at one of the windows.

‘Rodney Garrett! Open up! Police!’ Flowers shouted, only to see the curtain fall back into place. ‘Somebody’s home,’ he said to Ryder.