I pulled onto the road and the ute rolled forward. I saw Wozza ease out of the driveway, headlights off. I could only hope whoever was in the ute didn’t realise they would be boxed in once Wozza hit the road. I sped up a little, making sure that the car behind really was following me and not just there in the middle of the night by coincidence. I hated this coward stuff. Follow the female cop. Put the fear of God into her. This had happened in Melbourne, right before Gemma’s case had gone to court. I hadn’t expected the same crap in Deception Bay. Didn’t mean I’d take it lying down, though.

I turned into the main street of town and so did the car. At this time of night, all the shops were dark and the street was deserted. Halfway down the street, I slammed on my brakes and skidded on an angle, blocking the double lane. Unless the ute jumped the raised divide in the road, it was stuck. About twenty metres behind, the ute stopped too, headlights still blazing, blinding me when I looked in the rear-view mirror. I turned off my engine and jumped out. Shielding my eyes, I strode towards the car. The driver pumped the accelerator; the threat was very real, but I knew there was a big difference between threat and action, and that’s what I was counting on. That, and Wozza, who had pulled up behind the ute.

All of a sudden, the ute’s engine roared and the tyres screeched. The driver hit the divide with a smashing sound and jumped it like a goat; the driver planted their foot so hard, the wheels spun wildly before finding purchase. And then the ute was gone, leaving behind fumes and the smell of burnt rubber.

‘Jeez, that’s gotta hurt,’ said Wozza, walking over and looking at the bits of broken glass and plastic on the road.

‘Did you get the rego?’

‘Nah. Old bushie’s trick—plates covered with mud. Fairly new white ute, though. Toyota. Did you get a look at the driver?’

I had seen a person wearing a hoodie, leaning forward, gripping the wheel, urging the ute forward. Then they were gone.