Page 14

‘You don’t need to do this, Stone.’ Romy reiterated, as he drove his rattly ute down a dusty road and parked under a shady carport.

‘I’m just dropping you off, then I’m going to get the chopper so Craig can keep tracking. I want to find those stolen crocs as soon as we can. The longer they’re out there, the greater the risk to their survival. Don’t worry, you’ll be comfortable, with plenty of privacy to do your thing.’

She couldn’t get any more private a space than being dumped in the middle of nowhere. How did she get talked into this?

Stone hoisted her bags from the back seat, where soon the rollers from her drone case rumbled down the smooth concrete pathway, then up a few wooden steps to the large smoky glass door.

The surrounding native landscape had her itching to use her phone’s plant app to learn their names, while a few towering ant mounds peeked through the foliage. Okay, this might not be such a bad idea after all.

‘Are you sure it’s okay for me to stay here?’ When she should be asking where they were, but she trusted Stone. Strange, when they’d only just met this morning, and now he was letting her stay in his house.

It was a house, right? Arching her neck, she tried to see the place that was mostly hidden by a wall of trees.

She’d trusted plenty of people she’d just met as part of the film crew, while whisking her away to some remote location. But this was different. She was on her own, with no itinerary or script to follow.

Stone pushed open the front door. ‘I do this all the time.’

‘Do what? Pick up strays?’

He carted her bags inside. ‘I get backpackers in to feed the house pets when I’m away.’

‘How often is that?’ And how many were there, if everyone else seemed to understand what backpacker meant to Stone.

‘Don’t sweat it, you’ll have your own room.’ He kicked the door shut behind her. ‘The place has wi-fi and a wide screen near the pond, where you can swim and work on your tan, like most backpackers do.’

‘I’d rather work on my edits.’ She had stacks to trawl through, especially the bonus footage from the crocodile farm, and the unexpected bird’s-eye view of their investigation. If she were a journalist, she’d be all over this story.

‘Do you want a boarding fee?’ She followed Stone down the short corridor.

‘If you haven’t realised it yet, shortcake, we’re now in a barter situation. Just keep the house pets company, and don’t burn the house down, and we’ll call it even.’

‘I can do that. Do you need to see my house-sitting references? I’ve done plenty when filming in exotic locations.’

‘All good. Just ask me first before you fly any of your drones, in case I’m flying nearby. Don’t worry, I’m not grounding you, it’s just a safety thing.’

That was a relief, because she was keen to get as much practice time as she could. It was rare to be in a non-restricted flight zone. ‘Where do you keep your helicopter?’

‘The hangar is on the far side. I don’t want the Avgas too close to the house.’

‘Another safety thing.’ And another example of how safety conscious the daring crocodile wrangler actually was.

‘I’ll head into town to pick up the chopper.’

‘And leave your ute there?’ When she should be asking how far away was town? And in what direction? ‘Are you saying you use your helicopter to commute to work?’

‘Yeah.’ His nod was slight, but his smile was brighter. ‘I leave the ute in town because the crew got sick of me bumming lifts from the pub to the police station.’

‘Why don’t you park it at the police station? Isn’t the town’s airport right behind it?’ She’d noticed that from her helicopter tour of the town this morning.

‘The grump who runs the local airport has a pet hate for choppers and would rather tow them away than let us park there. Luckily the pub doesn’t mind us regulars dropping in—literally.’

‘Are you saying it’s normal for helicopters to be used like cars out here?’

‘Cattle stations use a lot of choppers for mustering—and beer runs. You’ll get used to it.’

Get used to what? Living in the wilds of the Northern frontier?

‘Welcome to the crib. Make yourself comfortable.’ Stone flicked on the lights of a large room that made her jaw fall.

With high ceilings and a large modern kitchen to her left, the large dining table stood on her right. Before her was the open lounge that met a wall of glass doors that opened to a tropical oasis. ‘What is this place?’

‘Officially, it’s called Crocswell Downs.’

She arched an eyebrow at him. ‘I’m guessing you named it.’

His confident grin returned as he bounced on the soles of his fancy crocodile leather boots.

‘How big is this place?’

‘I started with a fifty-acre lot, and over time I’ve accumulated 500 acres.’

She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Earlier today, you said those crocodile eggs were on your land.’ That felt like days ago. ‘Were we on your land?’

He nodded.

‘Are you a farmer?’

‘Technically, no. And yes. In a way.’ He left her bags in the front walkway area and pinched a banana from the large fruit bowl sitting on the kitchen counter.

‘You’re not making sense.’

‘Most of Crocswell Downs is a network of complex water lands and river frontage. I harvest eggs from my land, purely to keep the numbers at a certain level. When you’ve got around fifty females in the same neighbourhood, each hatching a hundred babies, life on the edge of a flood plain gets real interesting. ’

At the wall of windows, he pushed open the large double glass doors. ‘ Finley, where you at, brother? ’

‘You live with family?’

‘Just me and the house pets, and I have a few tanks.’ He nodded at the massive aquarium that stretched along the entire wall in the living room.

‘How gorgeous.’ It was a large community tank of small fish, all happily cruising around the lush aquatic plants. ‘It’s so hypnotic.’

‘I put in some crazy night lights too, perfect when snacking on some special gummy bears where you can watch the fish for hours. But I live out here more.’

Following him outside, Romy double-blinked at the grass-roofed Tiki style outdoor bar that stood on one side, with a massive wide screen on the wall.

Exercise equipment sat in one corner, and towering palm trees shaded a large pool with a tropical garden full of bright bromeliads and colourful crotons.

‘This is like a Bali resort.’ Even the air was filled with warm scents of frangipani and exotic spicy gingers.

‘That’s where I got the idea from.’

‘Do you need me to clean the pool as part of our bartered boarding fees?’ She was looking forward to staying in this luxurious setting.

‘You don’t have to do anything to the pool.’

‘But it’s so crystal clear?’

‘It’s an eco-pool. Done the same way I run all my tanks. The plants do the filtering for me, making it chemical free.’

Just then the water rippled, and a shark fin rose from the far edge of the pond.

‘ Shark! You have a shark.’ She scrambled back towards the house.

‘Relax, that’s just Finley.’ Stone tucked the banana into his shirt’s top pocket as he crouched down to pat the edge of the water. The shark fin aimed straight for him. ‘G’day Finley. Give us a cuddle.’ And he pulled out a turtle wearing a fin.

‘It’s a turtle?’ And a big one at that. How odd.

‘Don’t you get a gold star for animal recognition?’

She straightened her shirt and hair, as if pulling herself together. ‘I thought it was a shark.’

‘Nope, just Finley. He’s a snapping turtle who likes to pretend he’s Jaws’ baby cousin ten times removed.’

She rolled her eyes at the smart-arse wearing the confident grin. ‘Does Finley bite?’

‘If he doesn’t like you, he will. But Finley likes everyone, and everyone likes Finley. He’s got that type of personality. Come on, mate, time to meet the new backpacker.’ Stone gently put the turtle down and it keenly rolled towards Romy.

She skittered to hide behind Stone. ‘Turtles don’t move that fast.’

‘Finley does. Relax.’ Stone tenderly took her hand, igniting a spiral of sparks to rush through her bloodstream, as he pulled her down to crouch beside him.

The turtle rolled towards them as Stone peeled the banana and offered it to her. ‘You can feed him. That’s your job.’

‘You said house pets. Like a dog, cat, or a bird.’

He gave an annoyed snort. ‘In this household Finley is the house pet. His food fridge is the red one behind the bar, with his goodies kept in special containers labelled morning and night. You can’t mess it up.

The banana is a treat. He likes pawpaw and melons, too.

So don’t tease him by eating fruit or salad and not share with him. Finley may bite you for it.’

‘What do I do?’

‘Hold it out and he’ll come to you. Finley is friendly.’

Hesitantly, Romy held out the chunk of fragrantly fresh banana, realising she hadn’t eaten since the roadhouse breakfast. The turtle rolled towards her, his little eyes on the banana, with mouth open, ready to chow down. ‘He’s actually rolling, isn’t he?’

‘I made him a skateboard. Finley only has three legs.’

‘And the fin?’

‘Helps him swim. And I like how it freaks out the tourists.’ Stone chuckled.

Romy tried to scowl at him, which didn’t last long—she had to smile.

‘As the number one house pet, Finley cruises around the house. So please make sure the front door is always kept closed. That includes the side gates.’

Her heart softened as she hand-fed the turtle, which sat on a hidden skateboard, wearing a shark fin. ‘ Fin -ley. I get it now.’ It was a moment for the memory bank, for sure. ‘How did you end up with Finley?’

‘He found me when he wandered into the pond one day. Back then it was more of a bog-hole from the wet season rains. It’s what got me started creating a pond that’s chemical free for someone like Finley.

’ The clear water was like glass, reflecting the tropical paradise that surrounded it.

‘Feel free to swim in there, I do. Finley loves to show it off like a houseproud parent.’

‘You built all this for a turtle?’