Leaning forward, I planted tiny kisses all over Bella’s cheeks and nose and forehead. She smiled then wriggled out of my hug. With her arms outstretched, she began twirling around in a circle, chanting: ‘Chopper. Chopper. Chopper.’

‘Ssshhh,’ I said and listened.

She was right. The buzz of a helicopter was cutting across the sound of the wind. The noise grew louder and louder.

53 CARUSO

53

CARUSO

THE PILOT HAD BROUGHT THEM DOWN SMOOTHLY DESPITE THE LOW cloud and the gusting winds. Caruso was first out of the helicopter, moving fast in his ballistics vest. From the air, they’d spotted three people near a white ute: two adults and a child. Intel had checked on the firearms registered here—a shotgun and two rifles. The response group was en route by road and should be ready to block off the track at the top of the valley. It seemed that the Parkers’ gardener, Deirdre, who owned this property, was in fact Mel Wainwright’s aunt. They’d both kept that very quiet—no-one appeared to have known.

Mel’s minivan had come up on the list of car numberplates outside the church the previous night. And Caruso had discovered it was registered to this property. They still hadn’t found the other shoe. Was it hidden in another location to incriminate someone else? He hadn’t picked Mel as the abductor; she’d been jumpy during the interviews but all the mums were nervous. Later, he’d berate himself and go over every interaction, but right now he needed to find her—and Bella. And while the assumption was that Bella would be alive, they’d prepared themselves for another possibility. Were Deirdre or Mel likely to use the guns? It depended on their level of desperation. The Intel officer had given him a quick overview of Deirdre’s DV case and the outcome—the wife in a critical condition and one dead husband.

On Caruso’s call, the team spread out across the garden and proceeded towards the circular driveway in front of the house. The white ute they’d seen from the air had disappeared and only Marty’s car and Mel’s minivan remained. Of course, they’d had time to flee—a helicopter approach was hardly subtle.

Over the howl of the wind, Caruso could hear revving and shouting. He indicated for two of the team to check the house and the other two—Suze and Hassan—to continue up the driveway with him. Using the trees for cover, they advanced beside the track. As they rounded a corner, they saw the Toyota HiLux trying to manoeuvre through a gap between a car parked in the middle of the track and the trees along its edge. A small child was screaming and metal crunched against metal.

‘POLICE!’ Caruso yelled. ‘Stop the car.’