There was a pause that made Sterling think the wistfulness in her voice might have come through.

But if Flowers noticed, he didn’t let on, and merely said, ‘Ryder told me what you were thinking of doing.’

‘Asking around for a dealer? He didn’t completely rule out the idea.’

‘I’m glad you listened to him, Nerida. Ryder’s three or four steps ahead of us.’

‘I know, Mitch. He’s the undercover Jedi.’

Flowers’ shout of laughter had her holding the phone away from her ear. ‘Oh man, don’t tell him that,’ he begged. ‘We’ll never hear the end of it.’

Sterling yawned and snuggled further into the blankets. The wind velocity had increased in the last half hour, making the iron roof on the old bird aviary down the side of the house bang with every strong gust. Maybe she’d need earplugs tonight.

‘Are the owners still away?’ Flowers asked.

‘Yes,’ she said, slurring the word as she struggled to keep her eyes open. ‘They’re still holidaying in their caravan. They couldn’t give me a definite date for when they’d be back.’

‘You’re falling asleep, Nerida,’ she heard Flowers say, ‘go to bed.’

She opened her eyes wide, forcing herself awake. ‘I’m in bed already.’

There was a pause, then, ‘Oh, okay, I’ll let you go. Thanks for calling me back.’

‘Don’t worry. I always will.’

Six

‘How long have you been in Khancoban?’ Flowers asked as he sat opposite Sergeant Collins at the local police station. Now that the initial rush of sorting out the crime scene and organising forensics had passed, it was worth investing some time in building a relationship with Collins. Flowers knew from experience that his life would be a lot easier if the local boys were on board.

‘How long?’ Collins leaned back in his chair. ‘Forty-six years and counting. Only eighteen months to go.’

‘Where was that taken?’ Flowers pointed to a framed photograph hanging on the wall. The sergeant was standing in front of a substantial hut built entirely of river stones save for its iron roof. Younger, and wearing an ear-to-ear grin, he was holding up the biggest trout Flowers had ever seen.

Collins swivelled around to look at the photograph. ‘That’s at Geehi. You would have passed through it yesterday if you came along the Alpine Way from Jindabyne.’

‘I did. It looks like a beautiful spot right by the river.’

‘A group of old fishermen built that hut. There used to be more huts like it, but we keep losing them in the bushfires.’

‘Are they all fishing huts?’

‘No, the really old ones were built by stockmen.’ Sergeant Collins turned back to face Flowers. ‘Others were built by skiers. Even the Snowy Hydro Scheme built some for their workers during the original build. They’re all heritage listed now.’

‘Wow, I didn’t know that.’