‘Dogs aren’t allowed on this island,’ I told him. ‘It’s a nature reserve.’

‘But she’s not killing anything,’ Baldy pointed out. ‘She wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

The dog was already drooling on my shoelaces. I pushed her away with one foot. ‘You’ll have to put her back on the boat.’

‘She’ll jump out again,’ said Beer Gut.

‘Tie her up, then.’

‘We won’t let her off the beach,’ Baldy promised.

I’d learnt not to argue. It was a waste of time. I had to be pleasant but inexorable. ‘Sorry. It’s the law. I know it’s hard.’

Baldy scowled. Then the third man, older and hairier than the others, said, ‘For God’s sake, why are you being such a bitch?’

Beer Gut flashed him a warning look.

‘It’s a fifteen-hundred-dollar fine,’ I said in my flattest country drawl. ‘I can write it up now or you can put that dog back on the boat. Your choice.’

‘For fuck’s sake.’ Baldy whistled at the dog. ‘Here, girl! Here, Corky!’

The dog ignored him. As I watched the chase that ensued, I thought, Good luck keeping Corky on the beach. It took all three men to corral her and wade back to the cruiser with the animal wriggling in their arms.

‘Thank you,’ I said to the woman as the dog was hoisted on board. ‘I appreciate this. You have a good day.’

She didn’t respond. I’d barely reached the track when I heard a high-pitched keening. It was the sound of an unhappy dog trapped on a boat.

The noise followed me all the way to the jetty.

I’d had to confront quite a few visitors over the previous eighteen months, but I’d only fined two—one for ignoring a total fire ban and one for smoking in the men’s bathroom. I’d also chased away a pack of drunks trying to vandalise the zipline, as well as a whispering band of teenagers who came over in a tinny late one night before creeping up the jetty road. When they saw my cocked rifle, they quickly crept back down again.

That was something I’d never reported. I was pretty sure I’d committed an offence by waving my gun around, though I didn’t feel bad about it. I was all alone, miles from anywhere. The police weren’t exactly a ten-minute drive away. What else could I have done?

But most visitors to the island were no trouble at all, so when Corky’s whining stopped, I naturally assumed her owners had packed up and left. It wasn’t until I reached the parade ground that I heard a dog’s faint, excited bark. Corky didn’t sound aggrieved anymore.

‘Bugger,’ I said.

Warren glanced at me. He’d been watching his section march up and down. ‘Everything all right?’