A Place With Heart

by Jennie Jones

  ‘Oh my God, can this get any worse?’

  Jack felt sure it was going to.

  ‘Kilo-Mike 102 from Mt Maria mobile.’

  Jack opened the door of the troop wagon and unclipped his radio mic from his shoulder as Jax ran around to the passenger door. ‘What is it, Will?’

  ‘Northern Territory police just called. We’ve got a positive ID on the gear the curfew guys had in their boot. I’ve now got them both in lockup. And guess what? Tonto wasn’t stolen; he was sold to two young men who match the Baxter boys’ description. They took Tonto away in a horse float and the farmer who sold him said there was another vehicle with them. From the colour and make, it belonged to the two on curfew.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘A fortnight ago.’

  ‘Will,’ Jack said. ‘Four dogs were taken from Jax’s place. The big one, Winston, is still missing. The others have been found by the Agatha Girls.’

  ‘And you think Billy and Frances have gone after Winston.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What’s next?’

  ‘I’m heading to the museum. Meet me out there.’

  Twenty-One

  Following the coordinates Mrs Arnold had given him, Jack had driven down the track on the eastern side of the mine museum and found the clearing. It was tucked well away from the track itself, the perfect place to hold an illegal fight. But there was nobody there. He’d checked the shack—which stank of animal effluence, but at least there were old, battered saucepans of water dotted around—and had quickly scanned the ground for tyre tracks and footprints. He found quite a few although he couldn’t work out how many people had been there. At least half a dozen.

  What he’d been looking for was smaller footprints. Ones that might belong to a slightly built thirteen-year-old. But there was nothing discernible.

  There was also an old but large and solid horse float left at the scene and a check on its licence plate told Jack it had been stolen from the Northern Territory.

  He made his way back to the troop wagon where Jax was waiting. She’d been anxiously calling Frances the entire journey. He got into the driver’s seat and put his hand over hers and the mobile she held. ‘I don’t want you to call her again.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Because it might put her in danger—but he didn’t say that.

  ‘Oh, God!’ she said, with sudden understanding. ‘I didn’t think.’ She stuffed her mobile into her pocket.

  ‘Jax, she’s a sensible kid, and Billy won’t let her get hurt, not if he can help it.’

  She nodded, not looking in any way relieved.

  A few minutes later, Mrs Arnold met them at the museum office door, unlocking it when Jack announced their arrival.

  ‘This way,’ she said, leading them through the museum office towards a door at the back. ‘We thought it best to stay in the kitchen area, which is the larger of the rooms.’

  She opened the door and Jack hauled in a breath.

  Jax, however, dashed straight in and was met with delight by Kirby, Bella and a very excited Petal.

  She was on her knees, hugging and patting them, tears in her eyes.

  Jack did a swift appraisal of the situation. Five Kelpies, leashed and tethered to the legs of a heavy jarrah table and nowhere near as excitable as Jax’s three, being steady working dogs, used to waiting patiently for their next command. A ram and two ewes were penned off with a barricade of stacked metal chairs. Two cats were in cat boxes, and one rooster was parading majestically on the kitchen benchtop.

  ‘Are any of them hurt?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ Mrs Arnold said. ‘As far as we can tell they’re in reasonable shape.’

  Mary was next to Mrs Arnold, wringing her hands. An expectant looking Mrs Frith was standing by Roper, who was gnarled looking in his old age. It went with his well-known irascible attitude. Jack hadn’t yet advised him that Bivic was under suspicion, and although he’d be questioning Roper, he didn’t think the man had any knowledge of what his criminally inclined nephew was up to. The old bugger had probably been played.

  Mrs Arnold was ramrod straight, her focus on Jack as she waited. She was holding the puppy Bullmastiff.

  Jack took it off her, eyes narrowed.

  She had the grace to blush.

  ‘Just tell him everything we know, Amelia!’ Mary said, stepping forwards. ‘I don’t want to be locked up in those cells.’

  ‘Are we getting arrested?’ Mrs Frith asked.

  ‘Possibly.’

  ‘Oh, goodie!’ Mrs Frith clapped. Mrs Arnold maintained an even expression.

  Jack wasn’t going to arrest them. For one, there was no need—yet. Plus, he wouldn’t have room in lockup, and more importantly, he didn’t want a repeat of what Luke had put up with during the investigation Jack had been involved in: the cells full of the Agatha Girls, keeping them safe and off the streets, with no chance of anything going by the book.

  It wasn’t going to happen while Jack was OIC.

  The puppy squirmed in his hands. It was warm, like a big bundle of soft muscle. He handed it to Jax, giving her a small smile and reassuring her that he had this under control.

  She kept her eyes on him, but didn’t smile back. Her dogs were around her legs and she was giving them the affection they craved, but her worry was obvious.

  They had to find Frances, and he wanted that to happen as soon as possible before she and Billy got themselves into trouble—if they hadn’t already.

  He turned his back, pulled out his mobile, and texted Solomon.

  Can you see Bivic? Fight ring dismantled.

  He was here, in the equipment shed. Went for his lunch break fifteen minutes ago. I can’t get close to the canteen without being observed. I’m covering the entrance gate in case he leaves the site.

  Jack pocketed his mobile and glanced at each of his current charges.

  ‘How did you discover this cleared area?’ he asked the ladies.

  ‘We were out searching for possible sites for a Girl Guides camp,’ Mary said, obviously nervous about how this interrogation might go. ‘To cater to visiting units from Kalgirri or Perth—should Amelia decide it’s a good idea.’

  ‘Why didn’t you report it?’

  ‘There was nothing to report at that time,’ Mrs Arnold said. ‘The land belongs to a smallholding. Persons who are hoping to start a camel trading business. We knew they were hoping to clear that particular area for vehicle storage. It’s all been proposed to the shire.’

  Jack hadn’t known, but there was no reason for him to have been advised of proposed planning, so he let it go. ‘Do you know how the bull got into town?’

  ‘No,’ Mrs Arnold said, ‘but I admit we had seen it before. It was fenced in the area which is now cleared and we thought it must have been transported in the horse float.’

  ‘It didn’t look ill at that time,’ Mary said. ‘Or we would have told someone.’

  ‘We presumed a local farmer was utilising the area or had leased the land,’ Mrs Arnold said. ‘It happens frequently. One day a paddock is empty, the next it’s full of sheep or goats.’

  ‘That’s why Amelia got the cattle prod,’ Mrs Frith said. ‘In case we needed to fend off a feral animal while trekking around looking for Girl Guide camp sites. Although she wouldn’t let me or Mary have a go at using it. Which I think is very mean.’

  Jack pinned Mrs Arnold with a stare. ‘Where did you get the cattle prod?’

  ‘My father made it many years ago. It’s old but functional.’

  ‘And it was a good thing she had it,’ Mary said, ‘because of Hercule.’

  Mrs Arnold pulled her shoulders back. ‘We’d walked that track a number of times and had intended to walk it again. I thought it wise to arm ourselves in case the bull charged and broke its fence.’

  Jack didn’t waste his breath asking how she thought she might get close enough to zap a charging thousand-kilo bull. ‘Where’s the cattle prod now?’

  ‘In her h
andbag,’ Mrs Frith said. ‘Along with her pepper spray.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Mary said. ‘This isn’t sounding good.’

  Jack stared at Mrs Arnold. ‘Why the OC spray?’

  ‘I’ve got used to carrying it,’ she advised.

  In most states, it was illegal to carry or possess pepper spray or mace; they were classed as prohibited weapons. But in Western Australia, they were defined as controlled weapons, meaning ownership of them was sort of legal—but well restricted. If you owned a shop and had been plagued with numerous break-ins, it would be considered fair. But no cop would let a big bad bikie get away with carrying them.

  ‘You shouldn’t have this, Mrs Arnold. You have no reason to carry it.’

  ‘She’s never used it!’ Mary said.

  ‘That’s not the point. I’m taking it off you.’

  Jack picked up the large straw handbag. ‘It’s heavy.’

  ‘That’ll be the carjack handle.’

  ‘Thank you, Freda,’ Mrs Arnold said. She was beginning to redden and Jack almost felt sorry for her.

  ‘May I?’ he asked, indicating he wanted to look in the handbag.

  She nodded, and Jack opened the bag and took out the carjack handle, the OC spray and the cattle prod. ‘I’m confiscating the lot,’ he informed her, ‘and from now on, if any police officer asks to search your handbag, I’m hoping you’ll cooperate.’ Then he pulled out a hacksaw.

  ‘That’s for firewood,’ Mary explained quickly. ‘It’s not a weapon. Here,’ she said, handing him an empty cardboard box.

  ‘What else can you tell me about that cleared area and the shack you found the animals in?’ he asked Mrs Arnold while putting the confiscated items into the cardboard box. ‘Did you see anyone? Did you speak to anyone working on the site?’

  ‘No,’ Mrs Arnold said. ‘We saw nothing.’

  ‘I saw heaps,’ Mrs Frith said. ‘Heard a lot of talk too.’

  ‘She didn’t,’ Mrs Arnold told Jack quietly, with a shake of her head.

  ‘Oh, yes I did!’

  Mary put an arm around her. ‘It’s nearly time for your nip, Freda, dear. Why don’t we find your hipflask?’

  ‘Oh, goodie!’

  Mary led Mrs Frith towards a bench where two other handbags sat, then shoed the rooster out of the way. It flapped to the ground and, unbelievably, went to sit under the table with the Kelpies.

  ‘Right,’ Jack said. ‘I’m taking you all to the station. Please gather your belongings.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ Mary said again, as Mrs Frith took a long swig from her hipflask. Mary snatched the flask off her. ‘That was supposed to last all day, Freda!’

  Mrs Frith burped.

  A couple of minutes later, Jack was waiting for Will to arrive while the Agatha Girls got their jackets, bags and scarves.

  ‘We can’t leave these animals here,’ Jax said, suddenly at his side. ‘We have to take them.’

  He gave her what he hoped was a moderate but decided cop look. ‘Sweetheart, I can’t take them to the station.’

  ‘I’m not leaving them, Jack. They either come with us, or I stay here with them.’

  ‘You think I’m going to let that happen?’

  ‘My daughter’s missing. She’s probably gone to find Winston and to help Billy. She’s in danger. You can go and do your job, but I’m doing mine. I can’t leave these animals cooped up here when I know someone out there might come back and take them again.’

  ‘I’m not going to leave you here alone.’

  ‘And you’re not going to stop looking for Frances and Billy.’

  ‘Affirmative. So we have a stalemate.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Shit.

  ‘Okay. Find leashes for the ram and the ewes, do whatever you need to do, and we’ll take them.’ He caught her as she spun around. ‘This is my only concession, Jax. From now on you’re on the arm of a police officer, not a prospective husband. Do you understand?’

  He wasn’t given the chance to know. She pulled from him and ran back to the museum, calling to Mary and Mr Roper for assistance.

  The arrest van turned the bend and Will drove around the circular driveway in front of the museum building.

  Jack headed for him and brought him up to date while the Agatha Girls, and even old Roper, assisted Jax as she got the various animals leashed or boxed.

  ‘We’ll need the pod of the arrest van,’ Jax said, leading the ram and the goats towards the vehicle Will was driving.

  Jack unlocked the pod door for her, then moved back to the driver’s opened window and looked at Will. ‘This’ll piss Jimmy off,’ he said beneath his breath.

  Will gave him a momentary hard-edged grim smile, then lost it quickly. ‘How do you think this is going to play out?’

  ‘We’re going to have to get Bivic. We still need to find the Baxter boys. I’m waiting for Solomon to advise me Bivic is out of the canteen and back at his job. As soon as we’ve got this lot to the station, we’ll take a team out to the mine.’

  ‘You’re going to pull him in?’

  ‘I haven’t got a choice.’

  Jax’s heart was doing all kinds of disturbing beats in her chest as she sat in the front office of the police station on a chair Jimmy had drawn up for her behind the counter, so she could have what he’d termed ‘just a little bit of privacy’. They’d been here for nearly half an hour and there was still no news on Frances, although Jack had called in officers for extra shifts and they were combing north, south, east and west.

  She glanced at the Baxter parents, whom Jack had spoken to in private, informing them of their eldest sons’ involvement in crime, and the disappearance of their youngest. Her heart went out to them.

  Mrs Baxter was weeping, quietly soaking a handful of tissues. Mr Baxter had the pained, shocked expression of a man who’d been punched in the face. If ever there was a case for parents not being responsible for the doings of their offspring, this was it.

  Mr Roper was in with Jack now, and no doubt when he came out of the charge room where Jack had decided to hold his interviews, he’d be equally shocked and distraught. Bivic was his sister’s boy, so Will had told her, which is why he didn’t have the same surname.

  She put a hand on her shirt pocket, over her heart, where her mobile was silent. She was dying to call Frances but daren’t. Jack hadn’t said the words out loud, but she knew what he was thinking: if Frances and Billy were attempting to rescue Winston and maybe other dogs, any noise, like a ringing telephone or a text message beep, might alert the felons, or gang members, or whoever the hell these men were, to their presence.

  Her nerves were strung taut, but work had kept her brain ticking. Ridiculously—or so she thought—Jack had refused to let her take the animals to the shelter at the rear of the café. His reasoning, which Will had agreed with, was that there was no time, he didn’t have officers to assist, and she wasn’t allowed to leave the station. So she and the Agatha Girls, with Jimmy’s help, had led or carted the animals through the back door and into the station.

  The puppy was in Jack’s office with the lamb and the rooster the police had found wandering the highway. The exercise lockup area now housed two goats, two ewes, three chickens, the rooster from the museum, plus the ram.

  The cat boxes had been placed near the window of the front office where Mrs Frith said they’d enjoy catching a bit of sunlight. She was handfeeding them shreds of chicken Jimmy had given her from his luncheon sandwich which he hadn’t had time to eat.

  Jax’s own three dogs were behind the counter, sitting at Jimmy’s feet, leashed to the counter legs with rope he’d found in the storeroom. The Kelpies were in one of the cells in lockup.

  And Jax’s daughter was out there, alone, or with Billy, and undoubtedly in trouble and maybe in danger.

  Her heart couldn’t have been filled with more dread; it was already overflowing.

  Jack strode from the back of the station, where he’d just sent Mr Roper off to the hospital with Eddie.
He wanted him checked over by a medic. Poor old bugger. He’d paled considerably and just sat there, slumping further in his chair the more Jack spoke.

  He halted when his mobile rang.

  ‘Bivic didn’t return to the equipment shed,’ Solomon said, ‘and he hasn’t come out the main gate. I think he snuck out down a side track.’

  Two things crossed Jack’s mind. One, he was used to being on the street where the action was, not stuck in a police station office. Two, he had to call in to the op in Kalgirri and bring them up to date on Bivic and what he’d so far discovered about the man’s sideline activities. They weren’t going to be happy about Jack bringing him in before they’d found conclusive evidence of his involvement in drug trafficking.

  ‘I’m on foot until I get to my vehicle,’ Solomon said. ‘I’ll check out the Baxter boys’ places again. He might be there.’

  ‘You can’t take him, Solomon. You have no coercive power. I want you here, at the station. You can assist moving the zoo I’ve got on my hands to the animal rescue place behind the café.’ He couldn’t allow Solomon to do any more. He’d already used his skills way more than he ought to have.

  ‘On my way, but I might take a few detours.’

  ‘What else do you know that you’re not saying?’ Jack demanded.

  ‘Nothing. I just don’t like leaving stones unturned. If I see something that might lead us to Frances and Billy, I’ll call you. Otherwise, I’ll be there soon.’

  ‘Will,’ Jack said, pocketing his mobile as he got Will’s attention, indicating he step into the corridor to speak privately. ‘Bivic’s on the loose. Let everyone know to be on the lookout. He’ll be armed, so all precautions.’

  Will nodded. ‘I’ll make the callout from our office. Will you be heading out too?’

  ‘You bet.’ He wasn’t going to miss this one.

  Jack paused and took a breath in the doorway to the front reception. It was heaving, and it was no picnic.

  The Agatha Girls were sitting around the little table with the pot plant. Mr and Mrs Baxter were huddled in the corner, trying to make themselves invisible, although Jack had been relieved to discover that Mr Baxter hadn’t known anything about the bull, or the animal fight rings his sons were undoubtedly involved in. But he had been concerned about his boys’ association with Bivic.