“Where’s Taylor staying?” he asked Dot.
“At the caravan park. We can take my car.”
He was already moving, Sam by his side. “Tell Lara I watched from the stands,” he yelled back at Darcy.
“Yeah. Be careful.”
As he manoeuvred through the crowds of people and horses in the stable area, he kept scanning faces, hoping Amy would appear before him. The woman at the gates called, “Wait a second and I’ll stamp your hand so you can get back in.” She held up a hand but jumped out of the way when they didn’t stop.
Dot’s car was about halfway along the line of cars. He scanned the road and noticed a bright yellow hatchback parked at the far end. “Wait. That’s Amy’s car.” He took off at a run, but before he reached it, a ute backed out, almost running him over. It had an aluminium dinghy on the top. He glanced at the driver.
Taylor. And in the passenger seat was Amy, slumped down, her eyes closed. “Amy!” He lunged for the door handle.
Taylor flinched and accelerated away.
Shit. What had he done to her?
Dot and Sam pulled up next to him in a blue sedan and he jumped in the back seat. “Taylor’s got Amy in the ute.” He pointed.
Dot slid her phone out of her pocket and thrust it at Sam. “Call Colin.”
When the man answered, Dot told him what was going on and where they were headed.
The ute pulled away from them. “Can’t you go any faster?” Brandon demanded.
“I don’t have a V8 like him,” Dot snapped. “And he doesn’t have two hulking big men in his car weighing it down.”
Brandon swore.
“There’s nowhere he can go anyway,” Dot continued. “There’s no turn off until your road.”
The ute proved her wrong when it bounced off the road heading towards the ocean on a barely-there track. Dot swore as she slowed to make the turn. “Colin, we’re heading off track.”
No response. Sam checked the phone. “We’ve lost connection.” He unstrapped. “Drop me here. I’ll direct him. You want to be as light as possible taking that road.”
He was right. It was rutted red dirt, the type only a four-wheel drive should attempt. Dot peered at Brandon in the rear-view mirror as Sam jumped out. “I’m staying,” he said.
She accelerated, the car lurching over the bumps. Brandon shifted into the middle of the seat to even out the weight. The ute was a dust cloud in front of them. Where was Taylor going? There was nothing out here. Another couple of kilometres and it would be Stokes land, so there’d be a fence to cross.
Unless things had changed since the last time he was here.
Their progress was painfully slow but thankfully the track was hard enough that they didn’t get bogged.
They reached the fence line and the track turned to run alongside it. The dust floating in the air indicated Taylor had turned north. Towards the ocean. And he had his dinghy on the roof. Would he leave Amy behind if he launched the boat in time?
“Dot, he’s heading for the bay and he’s got his boat.”
She nodded. “We got any mobile reception?”
“Nope.”
She swore. “I should have brought the patrol car. It’s got satellite.”
Brandon exhaled, calming the tension. Think. Taylor couldn’t be a violent man or Bill never would have kept him on for so long. So why would he have taken Amy? Maybe she’d asked him about the photo.
Taylor had panicked.
The image of Amy slumped in the front seat made him mission-focused. He refused to believe Amy was dead. She had to be unconscious or he’d kill Taylor himself. He pushed down the anger. It couldn’t have been a simple conversation with their intruder. Taylor must have done something which would get him into trouble.
