Page 7

‘Hiya, Stone. Long time, no see.’ The middle-aged female’s voice crackled over the speaker box that stood near the heavy metal gate.

‘Missed you too, Celeste?’ Stone chuckled as he leaned out the driver’s window to smile at the cameras that towered over the barbed-wire fence. ‘I bring thirty eggs for the hatchery.’

‘Good. I’ll tell Malcolm. He’s over by the hatchery already. Although, I think your timing might be impeccable.’

‘For what?’ Stone shifted in his seat, concern creeping up his spine, because Celeste didn’t sound happy.

‘To help calm down the old fool. See you in five.’

With a clunk, the heavy roller gate slowly peeled back across the driveway.

‘Do me a favour, Romy?’ Stone put the ute into gear and waited for the gate to finish opening.

‘Yeah.’ Romy sat on the edge of her seat, peering at everything. And they hadn’t even entered the yard yet.

‘Leave your phone in the car, and do not under any circumstances tell anyone you’re making a documentary.’

‘I didn’t say I was doing it.’

‘Uh-huh.’ Stone drove through the heavy metal gates, following the wide laneway shaded by pawpaw trees that grew on either side.

‘That’s a lot of pawpaw trees.’

‘They grow them to feed the crocodiles. Good for the meat and skins.’

‘Really? What else do crocodiles eat?’

‘Anything and everything with a heartbeat. They’re not picky eaters. A wild crocodile will swallow bones, fingernails, tusks and teeth when chowing down.’

Romy screwed up her cute nose. ‘Jeez, how do they digest that kind of diet? Or do they live with constant stomach-aches?’

‘Their stomach acid is strong, but they also swallow stones to help them digest their food.’

‘Stone, huh?’ Her coy smile was positively playful.

‘You obviously have a lot of research to do for this documentary.’

‘Did I say I was doing it? I could just be a tourist having a holiday, escaping a miserable cold and rainy autumn down south.’

‘I didn’t mind autumn. Seeing the trees change colour. It’s been a while…’ He drove them down the main track, where a guard sat behind the wheel of a parked ATV.

Again, Stone lowered the driver’s window. ‘Hey, Doug. You keeping out of trouble?’

‘Nothing compared to you, ya cheeky larrikin.’ Hugging the steering wheel of his ATV, Doug pushed up the brim of his cap, exposing flecks of grey in his hair.

‘Did you miss me, too?’

Doug snorted while wiping over his greying whiskers. ‘It’s good to see you back here, mate. You’ll find Malcolm in the hatchery.’ Doug pointed towards the large shed.

‘His mood?’

Doug shrugged. ‘You’ll see soon enough.’

Which wasn’t promising, when Malcolm was known for his foul moods.

Stone gave Doug a lazy salute and continued driving towards the hatchery, as Romy craned around in her seat.

‘They have security guards on a farm?’

Stone put his hand on the cooler, ensuring it stayed level on her lap. ‘It’s normal… You have no clue what they do here? Do you?’

‘It’s my first time. So spill.’ At least she held the cooler steadier.

‘Seeing as how you asked so politely,’ he said with mock hurt, rolling his eyes for added drama.

‘I did mention the promise of beer before, didn’t I?’

‘Well, hell…’ Stone couldn’t say no to that pleading look of hers. It had the potential to suck him deeper into a whole world of trouble if he wasn’t careful.

‘You know you want to.’ She lowered her head, those deep brown eyes pleading with him.

Aw, hell—too late. He was now heading for a whole freaking plane load of trouble.

He looked away, wiping down his face. But he could smell her lively perfume that was like sweet lemongrass and soap, making the cab seem tiny.

‘Who owns the farm?’

‘I told you the Rowntrees’ own Saltscale. They work directly for the fashion houses.’

‘To make designer bags, like the Birkin bag?’ She sat very still, as if holding her breath for the answer.

‘The one and the same.’

‘No way.’ Her jaw dropped as she stared at the farm with keener eyes. ‘How? From here to France? That’s not possible.’

‘First, they have to hatch the eggs, and they treat their little hatchlings like kings. Believe me, they’re spoiled.

The larger ones live in those hutches.’ He pointed to the long and low buildings with insulated tin roofs, made with shade cloth sides for airflow, yet with enough reinforced metal to contain the beasts.

‘It reminds me of a glasshouse for tomatoes.’

‘Inside you’ll find long swimming pools where they keep the water in pristine condition, full of vitamins and minerals they need to grow healthy.’

‘I get the impression you respect the crocs, and yet…’ She pointed to his crocodile leather boots.

‘It comes with the territory. And, yes, I have a lot of respect for those cold-blooded creatures. They’re far more intelligent than most people.’

‘They’re crocodiles. They’re not exactly the cuddliest creatures, like a spoiled house cat.’

‘Crocodiles have feelings, too, you know. They have families, and they know how to play, plus they come with a whole load of cunningness that shows they’re smart.

They’re my favourite animal that I’d hate to see become extinct.

’ Stopping the ute, he pulled on the handbrake and nodded at a young man coming across from the pen area, waving at them.

‘That’s Jed, Malcolm’s son. And here comes Malcolm’s wife, Celeste.

’ Who was jogging over from the house in her apron.

‘Boy, am I glad to see you, Stone.’ Jed, the twenty-something-year-old man-hugged Stone like a brother.

‘I feel so popular.’ Stone chuckled as he removed the cooler from the car. ‘You can come out, shortcake.’ He winked at Romy, who was carefully sliding her phone into her bag on the back seat.

‘Do you want to pat me down?’ Romy was so daring.

‘Don’t tempt me,’ he muttered.

‘Hey, Stone.’ Celeste engulfed him in another hug that smelled of minty lavender and laundry detergent. ‘Am I glad to see you.’ Celeste panted like someone who hadn’t jogged since ’03.

‘Hey, I know I’m loved by the ladies, but take it easy, Celeste. You didn’t need to rush over like that.’ He patted her back.

‘I wanted to… Catch you…’ Using the edge of her apron, she dabbed at the sweat from her brow.

‘It’s okay, Mum. I’ve got this.’ Jed hitched up his jeans, clearing his throat. ‘Hey, Stone, is it true about the new Stock Squad?’

‘Don’t, Jed, your father doesn’t want to involve anyone. You know that.’

‘Dad says I’m in charge now. And Stone’s here—it’s the right time, right place. I’m taking it as a sign, Mum. We trust him. Always have. Stone will know what to do.’

‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, guys. But what do you want my help with?’

Jed held his arm protectively around his mother’s shoulder, the gravel thick in his throat as he said, ‘Someone has stolen our cold stock!’