They followed the directions Ulysses gave them for the sound of the engines. The Keenan Run was barely worth the name, traversed at little more than walking pace from the far side of Ulysses’s house, down a small incline, up the other side, twisting and turning as if trying to shake them, the track almost gone in parts, overgrown, the 4x4 struggling to navigate it.
‘Could anyone come this way?’ asked Rispoli as the vehicle jerked over another series of bumps.
‘Not from this side,’ said Emmaline, holding onto the handgrip. ‘This track hasn’t been used in a while.’
The Run lasted five kilometres that took nearly thirty minutes to navigate.
It eventually levelled out, widening at a patch of ground nestled close to a small bushy hill and fenced off by trees. There were, however, distinct tyre tracks in the dust, side by side as if two vehicles had recently parked there.
Emmaline got out of the 4x4 and looked around. There was nothing that would indicate a reason for anyone to be there. No posts, no cables, no water trough, nothing. There was barely room to turn.
‘What are you thinking?’ asked Rispoli, creeping around the edge of the site.
‘I think one of these treads will match the crashed ute.’
‘Assuming we get something from Forensics.’
‘And the other set?’ asked Anand.
‘How far is it to Kallayee from here?’ asked Emmaline.
A quick check of the tablet and Anand had an answer. ‘Seven clicks. South-west.’
‘And do you have to go through Hurton?’
‘It doesn’t say.’
‘Let’s try.’
Leaving Anand there, promising to contact Barker ASAP to collect both him and a cast of the tyre tracks, Rispoli and Emmaline navigated the rest of the Keenan Run. Around the hill, the scenery opened out. After a kilometre they came across the pleasure of hard, smooth tarmac. From there they steered west towards Hurton.
‘Do I keep going?’ asked Rispoli.
Then Emmaline saw it. A dirt road to the right.
‘No, down there.’
Rispoli swung onto a road that went part way towards Hurton, before joining the broken tarmac of the once well-maintained road to Kallayee. From there it was a couple of kilometres to town past the TV trucks.
‘What did that tell you?’ asked Rispoli.
‘One of those tracks will be the miners’ transport. The other will match the Maguire’s ute. If we ever find it.’
‘But why meet all the way out there?’
Emmaline pursed her lips. ‘A negotiation.’
‘Over what?’
That she wasn’t sure. ‘Maybe over how to live in town together.’
‘Again, why out there?’
‘If the miners and the family knew of each other’s presence then there would have been tension. They needed a neutral place. Away from prying eyes. They needed to negotiate to keep each other’s secrets and keep the peace.’
Given the three bodies, however, it seemed that negotiations had broken down.