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‘Sure, it is. But do you see any of them pencil-pushing policymakers out ‘ere, Roman?’ Chook nodded at the river.

‘Is that what happened to your leg? A crocodile?’ Romy asked.

‘Yep,’ he said with an exaggerated p . ‘Croc got it.’ Chook hoisted his wooden leg up on the railing and gave it a knock.

‘It was that mongrel hanging on my wall, there. He snapped it clean off just below the knee. And before you ask, river water mucks up the joints in those fancy prosthetic limbs. It’s easier using this stump on board—less slipping, fewer headaches. ’

But Stone also knew Chook liked playing pirate with his wooden leg.

Chook patted Stone’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. ‘Now, why are you here? Besides showing off for the Roman?’

‘It’s Romy.’ She rolled her eyes at them.

‘Nothing wrong with her hearing.’ Both men chuckled, moving to the back deck’s comfy lounge chairs. ‘Is she your new backpacker for the boys?’

‘Romy came out to film a documentary…’ Stone gave Chook the short and sharp version of the story. ‘And her drones have been a big help with this investigation.’

‘I know kids do them dares to steal the odd croc to keep in the bathtub for a bit, and the cowboys full of rum and bad news do it for kicks. But that’s a bucketload of embryos and hatchlings.

Bad news that.’ Chook slowly shook his head, the river light catching the silver in his plaited hair and matching beard.

‘The thieves not only tried to set up Raven, but they did the oddest thing.’ It had Stone scratching his head over it.

‘What?’ Chook sat on his stool, one eye on the river, the other on Romy fishing.

‘They cut a hole in the front fences of both Northern Tides Aquafarms and Mudlands Crocodile Park and let loose a bunch of those juveniles.’

‘How many?’

‘Nine at Mudlands, and six at Northern Tides.’

‘They catch ‘em?’

Stone nodded.

‘What did you do with them? Can’t take ‘em back to Malcolm’s place, they’d have to be quarantined.’

‘I collected them from the two farms in the police paddy wagon and took them to Cowboy Craig’s place, Dustfire Holdings. It’s the Stock Squad’s quarantine station. As this is their first haul of crocs, I’m hoping to borrow one of your ponds.’

‘With a heater?’

Stone nodded. ‘I’ve lent them my heaters, and an incubator for some eggs—if we find them—but it only does thirty at a time.’

‘Your usual egg limit.’

‘I’m hoping you might have something bigger. I’ll pay you for the hire fees.’

‘I’ve got a couple of old nesters that hold 40 eggs at a time. 90, that’s bein’ greedy, you know. Same nest?’

‘Different nests. The thieves knew what to take.’

‘That’s not right. Those embryos are fragile at that age. They’re not fit to travel down bumpy roads. It’d drown ‘em.’

‘That’s why I think they’ve got them stashed in a shed somewhere close, waiting for them to hatch before moving on.’

‘You’d be looking at a couple hundred sheds and humpies between here and town.’

Stone sighed, fully aware it was like looking for a single crocodile tooth in the middle of a muddy riverbed. ‘Have you heard anything?’

‘Just the usual. The two jumping-croc tour operators are still at war with each other over who owns the river, and which crocs are theirs to feed.’ With squinty eyes, Chook nodded at the river.

‘One of ‘em is trying to get me outta here, reckons I’m scaring the tourists away when I sunbake on my roof.’

‘Were you dressed?’

‘My boat. My rules.’ Chook’s light blue eyes sparkled with mischief. ‘Only get dressed for visitors.’

‘I think you should put on a hat, grab a telescope and an eyepatch, and really bung on the pirate act. The tourists will pay for the privilege, and you could charge them an entry free to your crocodile museum.’

‘Ease off, Stonehenge, I’m shy.’

Stone snorted. ‘Since when.’

They chuckled between them.

Chook scratched at his white-grey jawline, with the long skinny plait running down to his chest, his eyes squinting over the river, then at Romy having a go at fishing.

She looked so peaceful that Stone had to drag out his phone and take a few sneaky snapshots.

Maybe it was a little hypocritical, after that speech he gave about privacy—but this wasn’t for likes or followers on social media.

This was just for him. A quiet keepsake.

Nothing like the polished clips Romy sold to the highest bidder. ‘Hear any other gossip on the river?’

‘I heard through the traps there’s someone new snooping around.’

‘Who?’

Chook shrugged. ‘A stock agent of sorts.’

‘Why would a stock agent come out here?’ Stone peered over the wooden railing. This part of the wide river was nowhere near any cattle stations, especially when it was prone to flooding in the wet season.

‘No idea. Rumour has it this stock agent was asking about the old smugglers’ route through the swamp.’

‘You mean your old smugglers’ route?’

‘Shh. Don’t let the Roman hear you. Let her think I’m charmin’ and all that.’ Chook brushed down his grubby shirt, with bearded chin held high. ‘I’ve retired from all that.’

‘Can they still use that route?’

‘Nope. After that last cyclone we had that Christmas, it pushed down a lot of silt from the escarpment and blocked it off. Ticked off a lot of barra fishermen. They were talking about getting in a dredger, but it’s now a brilliant spot for catching mangrove jack.

And if you time it for the turn of the king tide it exposes the sandbar, trapping all this threadfin salmon, making the water bubble over like we’ve got tuna. ’

‘Sounds good. Besides the fishing, have you seen much boat traffic?’

‘Just the usual local fishermen. The police boat cruises past at least once a month, with Policeman Porter and his fireman mate, Bottle Shop Luke, on board. Good lads, that pair. They’ll drop off a spare fish on their way home.’

‘Do you visit the Sandfly Saloon much?’

‘Weekly for supplies. Or Two-dollar Darryl and his nephew, Chopper, will bring them to me.’

‘Good.’ Another twinge of guilt settled in his chest like heartburn, for not getting out to visit as much as he’d like to. Stone was glad someone was checking up on the old guy.

‘I know you told me her story, but why did you bring Roman out ‘ere?’ Chook gave a short nod in Romy’s direction.

Leaning against the pole, Stone admired her profile, reflected in the dancing light of the river, highlighting her warm eyes. She sat on her stool, gazing at the water with the same focused intensity she had behind a camera. Watching her was like witnessing his own documentary unfold.

It only made him want to help her more, when by rights he shouldn’t be doing anything with the pretty little filmmaker. Yet, he couldn’t help himself.

‘I’m hoping you’ll let Romy interview you for her documentary, share some of your stories, show off your memorabilia that’s gathering dust inside?’

‘Struth.’ Chook’s grey eyebrows shot up.

‘You’ll love it.’

‘Does that mean I’ve gotta shave? I haven’t shaved in decades.’ Chook stroked his bearded plait.

‘Nope, stay authentic, brother. I’m sure you’ll win her over by just being who you are, and Romy’s a good sort.’

‘Must be, to put up with the likes of you, coz you never suffered fools lightly… Which had me wondering why you’d want The Vegan to stay here? I hear she does some dumb things.’

‘You could use her to do trips to town for food and medicines when I’m too busy to check in on you.’

‘I don’t need a babysitter, boy.’

‘I didn’t say that. Backpackers are good like that, they live their own lives and regularly volunteer to help just for the privilege of staying. It’s why I have them around, and they keep Finley company.’

‘I see.’ Chook rubbed his jaw in thought.

‘Raven’s heart is in the right place, and she saved a security guard from an asthma attack, even though they were enemies.’ Which made him peek back at the boardwalk, towards the front gate, hidden behind the shifting curtain of leaves from the towering fig tree.

What paint had Raven used that caused Doug’s asthma attack? When Stone knew that Raven avoided all chemicals, especially anything toxic. That whole paint-bomb incident didn’t sit right with him.

If only the Duchess could see him now, she’d be so proud of his note-taking skills, as he tapped a reminder on his phone to ask about the type of paint Raven used. ‘I’ll go sort out the tanks. Where are the egg warmers?’

‘Back shed. How are you going to cart them?’

‘With the sling.’

‘You ready to use that sling again?’

Stone frowned, as the heat swirled in his chest. ‘No. But for this I will.’ Hoping Chook would drop the subject. He didn’t need the past dredged up like that, not when he’d been doing his best to forget.

‘I’ve got plenty of clips, and a few spare slings there, too. Even the one I taught you how to use, all primed and ready for you to use anytime.’ Chook squinted at Stone as if he could see straight through him.

‘You need glasses, old man. Squinting makes you look older than you are.’ Stone crossed the deck quickly, to escape that kind of scrutiny. ‘Be nice to the Roman while I’m gone.’

‘What did you call her?’ Chook chuckled. ‘She should be nice to me . I am the captain of this here river circus.’