Eventually behind a thin paper curtain, Manolis was given a cursory examination by a kid doctor in a vaguely medical uniform. He had the bedside manner of a drill sergeant. Manolis was discharged with an opened box of non-prescription painkillers – four pills were missing – and a hastily packaged roll of loose bandages.

Kerr was furious, energised. Manolis was measured, spent. Ultimately, he was just glad to be leaving hospital. It had been a formidable day, and he needed to rest.

‘You’ll stay at mine,’ Kerr asserted.

‘But what about your mother?’

She jangled her car keys. ‘Mum’s fine. I lock her room overnight so she doesn’t go wandering. You may have delayed concussion, so you’re not staying on your own tonight. And besides, we probably should start to entertain the notion that you may have a target on your back. What if someone did cut your brakes? What if someone did torch your car? Accidents happen. Or, they don’t.’

Her focus had returned, broadened. Manolis wanted to reassure her and tell her he’d been hunted before. But he hadn’t. He’d been threatened, of course, at different times by junkies, wife beaters, rapists, paedophiles and murderers. Ultimately, they never had the balls to follow through. The only truly unnerving occasion involved an underworld figure whom Manolis had locked away: a hit man. From the dock, the assassin had promised to make Manolis his first assignment on release. He was still behind bars; Manolis was sure of it.

And yet, a strange restlessness and anxiety had taken up residence in his marrow. He didn’t want to admit that this tiny mote of a town, his first ever home, had utterly shocked him. It had appalled and dismayed him. Did he really sprout from this rotten soil? Was this the ‘true Australia’ that so many proudly put forth as the nation’s indomitable identity? The much revered and iconic outback that the country so readily plastered across tourist posters to entice overseas visitors? Were the resourceful small business owner, the wise Aboriginal elder and the resilient outback farmer no more than bigots, drunks and sexual predators? No wonder his father had left for the city, seen the writing on the wall as a new migrant and decided to spare his young son the same ordeal. It was time for Manolis to leave too, steal a car and drive until he ran out of road.

But then he reminded himself to not be so impulsive, or act so surprised. After all, the reason he was on assignment in Cobb was because a woman hadn’t simply been killed – she had been brutally stoned to death.

At least Kerr seemed normal. Manolis empathised with her silent but obvious mourning.

‘It was arson yesterday, cut brakes today,’ she added. ‘What will tomorrow bring?’