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He’s… from Muddy Soak.’
    ‘Mind if I wait with you?’
    ‘I’m a bit, um, busy.’
    ‘Waiting’s a very busy activity, I know.’
    She hugged herself tighter.
    ‘Jacinta, what really happened to Natalie Kellett?’ My voice was low.
    ‘What? She…died. In an accident.’
    ‘Something tells me you’re not so sure about that.’
    ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
    ‘You and Natalie were friends, weren’t you?’ A guess, but worth a try.
    ‘I knew her, yeah.’ She twisted a stray strand of her long dark hair around a finger.
    ‘What was she like?’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Well, her father’s asked me to look into her death. As I think you know. I met him in the Slick Café, remember?’
    ‘Did you?’ A not-very-successful casual tone.
    ‘Yes. And it would help a lot if I knew a bit more about her.’
    ‘Yeah, well…’
    I waited.
    ‘Natalie wasn’t a person who liked attention.’
    ‘You mean she was shy?’ A mozzie landed on my cheek. I flicked it away.
    ‘Not exactly. Just…focused.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Anyway, my friend will be here any minute. Don’t let me hold you up, Cass.’
    ‘Where was your friend last night, anyway?’
    The colour drained from her face. ‘What?’
    ‘Jacinta, it was me you spoke to on his phone today. Who is this guy and why did he break into my place?’
    She stared. Opened and closed her mouth. Then she turned and ran.
    I ran after her, my feet pounding the concrete, watched her jump into a red Honda and slam the door.
    I knocked on the window. Shouted through the glass, ‘Jacinta. Please. If you’re in trouble, let me help.’
    But she gunned the car, revving like she was on the starting grid at Phillip Island. Then, tyres screaming, the Honda hurtled out of there.

8
    I leapt into the Corolla and turned the key in the ignition. It didn’t start. I turned it again. No go. I waited a moment and then tried it again. Finally, the engine fired. By the time I turned out of the car park, Jacinta’s Honda was long gone.
    I drove around the streets of Hustle, looking everywhere. No sign of Jacinta or her Honda. I didn’t even know where she lived. Bugger.
    The sun was low in the sky, the light growing dim. I pulled out my phone and dialled Gary Kellett.
    ‘Gary, was Natalie friendly with someone called Jacinta Thomas? Works in Hustle, not sure where she lives exactly.’
    ‘Never heard of her,’ he said, the man whose daughter told him everything. I said goodbye and hung up. Tapped my fingers on the steering wheel. A thought. Jacinta’s sister Taylah worked on the desk at the retirement home. Right,I’d make a little social call on Ernie tomorrow: maybe Taylah could somehow help.
    Not much of a sunset: the rain started as I left town, spattering at first, tickling the car roof and the ground. It grew heavier, a drumming, music on the windscreen. I wound down the window and sucked in a lungful of rain-scented air.
    I peered through the smeary windscreen. Grey sky, brighter grey in the distance. Grey-white striped wheat paddocks. My windscreen wipers squeaked. I’d have to get the rubbers replaced. Another thing requiring money I didn’t have.
    I passed a blown-out tyre by the road. Glanced in my rear-view mirror. Visibility wasn’t the best, but was the car behind me kind of dark in colour? Brown? Possibly a Fairlane? The left-hand fog light cover was missing. I squinted, but couldn’t make out the number plate.
    Up ahead, I saw a road sign, a turn-off to the left. I took the turn and headed down the gravel road. Checked the mirror again. The car behind took the turn as well.
    OK, that confirmed the bastard was following me. I’d turn my car around, get a good look at the driver as I swung by him and then head back to the highway. Phone Dean with a full description.
    My car engine stuttered and then died. The Corolla rolled to an apologetic halt.
    I turned the key in the ignition. Nothing. I tried again. No. Pumped the accelerator,