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But it was more than that.

Romy was now actively using her skills as part of the investigation, instead of standing in the corner of the hatchery office like some dusty ornament that Stone had forgotten about.

Now she was in the thick of things, as her thumbs moved the controls, steering the drone to hover right above them.

‘The picture quality is amazing.’ Amara pointed at them on the screen.

‘Now can you see the different hat styles, Duchess?’ Stone playfully tapped Amara’s hat brim, earning him the dramatic eye roll of an annoyed sister.

‘Go that way.’ Craig pointed to the edge of the drone’s screen. ‘Head for the southern fence line. It looks freshly used.’

‘Lenora, do you guys use the back gate often?’ Stone asked.

She shrugged. ‘You’ll have to ask the security guys who man the perimeter.’

‘I will. Get in children, Daddy Stone is driving. Romy, can you steer that while I drive?’

‘Of course.’ She wasn’t stopping, not now she had permission.

‘Lenora, can you radio Doug to meet us there?’ Stone asked.

‘Who’s Doug?’ Amara tossed her heavy-looking backpack into the ute’s back tray.

‘Security guard. He waved us in when Romy and I first arrived.’ Stone opened the passenger door for Romy, his hand gently on her shoulder to guide her into her seat. ‘You can take the front seat so we can all read over your shoulders.’

Now it was Romy’s turn to roll her eyes. She might not like it, but if she were in their position she’d do the same. Besides, she wasn’t going to tell Stone she was used to it when directors searched for that perfect shot.

Leaving Lenora at the hatchery, Stone followed the map and cruised along the dirt road. Romy took the drone high, giving them the best bird’s-eye view of the place. She could see the road patterns and the entire layout of their operation. It was huge.

‘Look at all those ponds.’ Amara hovered over Romy’s left shoulder. Her perfume sweet and subtle like a grandmother’s vintage handmade soap.

‘They’ve got some enormous swamp puppies basking in those waterholes.’ Craig peered over Romy’s other shoulder. ‘How many snapping handbags have they got here, Stone?

‘When the breeding season spawns a batch of new hatchlings, they average around 1500 crocodiles. Off-season, they’ll have 200 adults, and over 500 juveniles.’

‘That’s a lot of cold stock.’

‘Why the term cold stock, considering they live in such a tropical environment?’ Romy had heard those words used a few times today.

They didn’t fit, when the heat was like summer.

Not that she was complaining, summer was always a good time for her, where she could almost taste the nostalgia on the humid air, of iced teas, beach blankets and suntan lotion.

‘It’s a term for cold-blooded creatures like crocodiles and other reptiles. I believe zoos use the same term. Or we just made it up.’ Stone smirked at her as if he had a secret he was dying to share. He was such a tease.

He drove them along the fence line, that had a long dirt mound running along their left.

On the right stood a high mesh fence with barbed wire rolling across the top.

It gave the illusion of driving along the outer perimeter of a dam wall, that cleverly hid a series of large ponds, where countless crocodiles lazed in the sun, swam, or slept along the banks.

Some of them had to be bigger than Stone’s ute. ‘I’ve never seen so many crocodiles.’

‘Me neither,’ said Amara, still watching over Romy’s shoulder. ‘Have you, Craig?’

‘I’ve been to a few croc farms in my time… Stop, Stone.’

‘What do you see?’ Stone cranked on the handbrake.

‘Tracks.’ Craig’s shadow stretched over the dirt track, highlighting his hip-swaying rugged walk of a real-deal cowboy. He motioned to Stone to follow him down the track with head down, his cowboy hat shading his eyes.

Romy steered the drone around to capture Craig in action.

He was a thirst trap for someone, just not her type.

Not when she had Stone sitting next to her—who’d leaned in as if to share a secret, and not to just peek at her screen.

Every time he did that, she’d try to hold her breath to stop inhaling the divine musky earthy aroma that was unique to Stone. ‘What is Craig doing?’

‘Tracking. That cowboy can tell you what tyre tread fits what type of vehicle.’

‘I get Craig learned to track animals from hunting out here,’ said Amara right behind the drone operator. Romy had momentarily forgotten Amara was there. ‘But tyre tracks?’

‘Craig told me when he worked in the city’s export yards, he’d get so bored, being made to clock on Monday to Friday, even when they had no cattle in their yards.

So, he’d walk around the car park to escape the paperwork, and it ended up becoming a game to try and track what vehicle was what.

Admit it, Duchess, it’s a skill that works well for us. ’

Amara pointed to the top of the drone’s screen that caught some movement ahead. ‘There’s an ATV coming?’

‘That’ll be Doug.’ Stone stopped the ute, and they all climbed out to meet the buggy. The dust from the vehicles washed over the double-mesh gate like red smoke, softly settling on the surrounding silver-leafed shrubbery edging the native scrublands.

‘If it isn’t Cowboy Craig.’ Doug, the security guard, squeezed out from behind the wheel of the ATV, hoisting his trousers higher.

‘Doug. How’s Tommy?’ Craig shook hands with Doug like old friends.

‘Good. My boy is graduating high school this year.’

‘Struth, I remember him in the stockyards when he was this big.’ Craig held his hand up to his hip.

‘Do you know the security guard, too?’ Romy quietly asked Amara, standing back by the ute’s bonnet as the three men chatted.

‘No. I just transferred out here six months ago. It’s good that Craig and Stone know the locals.

At first, it irritated me how casual those two yahoos were on the job.

But it works. The gossip they pick up gives us stacks of clues, taking their chitchat to a whole new level that opens a lot of doors for us.

Finn is a smart operator.’ Amara sighed with admiration.

‘I had no idea.’ Romy hadn’t grasped how complex the farm really was—not until she sent the drone higher and saw the full sprawl of Saltscale from the sky. Below, Amara listened to the men talk.

‘Listen, mate…’ Craig pushed up the brim of his cowboy hat.

‘We’re looking for a trade van of sorts, that stopped at this gate.

There were two men…’ Craig pointed to an assortment of scuffed tracks in the soft red soil.

‘Guessing by how the tracks have dried out and the low breeze we’ve had today, I’d say they came through here at around 1am. ’

‘Bugger me, that’s when the night guards take their smoko break.’ Doug shook his head as everyone looked at their watches.

Even Romy noted the time. Just after two, putting them 13 hours behind the bad guys.

‘Can you open the gate so we can see where they went, Doug?’ Stone asked.

‘No worries.’ The security guard went through a thick set of keys he carried on a long chain, trussed to his belt.

‘Use this gate often?’

‘Never.’ It took Doug a while to find the right key, approaching the chunky padlock holding the double gate together.

‘ Wait! ’ Amara raced over with her heavy backpack. ‘I need to do fingerprints on that lock. I’ll also need to fingerprint all the staff for a comparison.’

‘Knew there was a reason we brought you.’ Stone stepped back, giving Amara room.

Amara dumped her backpack on the ground, unleashing a cloud of red dust to rise around it.

She unzipped it to reveal all sorts of tools they’d need for outback investigations, including a fingerprint kit, disposable gloves, plastic evidence bags, some fancy multi-tool, and a first-aid kit, plus a whole lot of other paraphernalia that Romy didn’t recognise.

Sliding on her gloves, Amara quickly got to work dusting over the lock. ‘Craig, can you take photos with my phone, please?’ Amara handed it to Craig. ‘It should have the date and time stamp setting turned on already.’

Romy licked her lips, eager to help as a videographer.

Stone shook his head at her. ‘You just keep being the eye in the sky, shortcake.’

‘Yes, boss.’ Romy grinned, as her thumbs danced deftly over the control panel, adjusting the drone’s altitude and camera angle as she framed the perfect shot.

‘Don’t say that.’ Amara scoffed as she dusted the padlock with powder. ‘Next he’ll be wanting you call him King Stone from here on out.’

‘Would that mean I’d outrank a duchess with that kind of title?’

‘At least you’ve stopped calling yourself the white knight.’

Stone’s light chuckle filled the air, making Romy smile at the sibling-like banter he had with Amara. But then he slid on that sexy seriousness, as he glanced at the security guard. ‘You’ve been here a while now, haven’t you, Doug?’

‘Ten years. Nearly as long as you’ve been stirring up trouble around here.’

‘What do you think happened?’

‘It’s got me beat.’ Doug readjusted his hat that made up part of his security guard’s uniform. ‘The team who worked last night’s shift are a good team. They didn’t see anything suspicious, and no one noticed the crocs were gone until the Rowntree’s raised the alarm.’

‘Who told you first?’

‘Young Griff did, when we were in the smoko room.’

‘Who’s that?’ Amara zipped up her backpack, then stripped off her gloves to pick up the tablet and stylus pen.

‘Griffin McBayne. He’s a pen-keeper.’ Doug leaned over to watch Amara take notes.

It had Romy wondering if it was common practice to read over other people’s shoulders in the outback.

‘You can unlock it now.’ Amara nodded at Stone and Craig, as she tucked her tablet under her arm, and carried her backpack all very military-like. ‘What did Griffin say to you, Doug?’

‘Griff was telling me that when Malcolm noticed the crocs were gone, Lenora, the poor girl, was freaking out about losing her job.’