Page 44 of Wild Horses

Epicurean competition day was finally here.

Tyler stood outside the Top Chef kitchen, a buzz of activity and anticipation crackling in the air around him.

His heart thudded with excitement and nerves.

This was it – the culmination of weeks of preparation, sleepless nights and endless trials.

The chance to prove himself on an international stage and secure a fresh start for him and Leo.

Tyler glanced down at his meticulously prepared recipe notes, double-checking each detail.

The three-course vegetarian menu he’d crafted was ambitious, pushing the boundaries of the most skilled chef’s culinary abilities.

Each course incorporated indigenous ingredients, which he hoped would set his dishes apart, and he had Leo to thank for pointing him in that direction.

It had been a joy and an adventure learning how to cook with Australian native foods.

For an entree Tyler had settled on the truffle and wild mushroom consommé with murnong ravioli and porcini foam.

Main course would be zucchini blossoms stuffed with bunya nuts and ricotta, accompanied by lemon myrtle beurre blanc.

He’d complement it with a bush tomato and roasted beetroot salad and a pickled kangaroo apple dressing.

His finale would be a spectacular clear sugar-glass dome dessert with an entremet.

The base would be a macadamia nut dacquoise, layered with a Davidson plum gelée, a wattle seed crème br?lée and a quandong semifreddo.

Finger lime caviar would provide tiny bursts of citrus flavour scattered throughout the dish.

Tyler was thrilled with his unique flavour combinations and looking forward to reproducing them for the judges.

He’d practised day and night for this. He could cook these complicated dishes in his sleep.

‘Patience, passion, perfection,’ he murmured under his breath. That was all he needed to win this.

The other chefs milled around, some nervously pacing, others chatting in low, excited tones.

They were a mix of seasoned veterans and ambitious newcomers, each with their own unique style and flair.

Tyler felt a certain camaraderie with them, but also the fierce competitiveness that the stakes demanded.

He checked his watch. There was still twenty minutes before they’d be allowed into the kitchen.

His fingers twitched at his sides, itching to get started.

A commotion near the door drew his attention. A courier came in carrying a small gift box. He spoke to an assistant who pointed in Tyler’s direction, and the man approached.

‘Tyler Ward?’ he asked. ‘For you.’

Tyler took the box, which was marked Urgent – Express Delivery.

The sender’s name was blank, but the address read Currawong Creek, Merriang. Leo must have forgotten Tyler’s instruction about not revealing his whereabouts. As far as the press knew, Leo remained at his exclusive boarding school and Tyler wanted to keep it that way.

Still, it was thoughtful of Leo to send a gift.

A smile tugged at Tyler’s lips. He and his son had been at odds lately, divided by Tyler’s decision to move to France.

However, this gesture of support and encouragement was a sign that Leo was coming around.

It was just the boost Tyler needed to calm his nerves and focus on the task ahead.

He shook the gift gently, getting no clues except for finding that it was very light.

He marvelled at how Leo had managed to organise delivery directly to the Top Chef kitchen.

His son was nothing if not resourceful. Tyler studied the gift more closely and frowned.

Something looked a little off. The corners of the wrapping paper were too precise, the handwriting on the outside unfamiliar – a neat cursive Leo had never mastered. Perhaps someone had helped him send it.

Tyler opened the gift carefully, curious about what he would find. But as he peeled back the layers of tissue paper he discovered that the box contained only a handwritten note.

Good luck today. Hope you and your son Leo are keeping safe and well. By the way, I hear you’ve been talking to old mate. Let’s have a chat about that. Best, a friend from your past.

Tyler’s stomach dropped. The words blurred as he read them again, seeking meaning where none seemed to exist. The excitement that had filled him moments earlier was replaced by a cold knot of dread.

He turned the sinister message over in his hands, his mind racing.

Who the hell had sent this? Someone was watching him, someone who knew he’d talked to the police.

Someone who knew where Leo was. Tyler’s jaw tightened and he glanced around uneasily. He needed to talk to Hunter. Now.

Tyler pulled out his phone and called the detective with shaking hands.

The phone rang, each second stretching into an eternity.

No answer. Tyler cursed beneath his breath and tried again.

Damn, still nothing. He left a tense voicemail, his voice charged with urgency.

‘It’s Tyler Ward. Call me the moment you get this.

’ He thought about ringing 000 but how could he properly explain his predicament to someone who wasn’t in the know?

Who’d believe that the seemingly harmless note could be a threat?

It sounded paranoid, even to him, but his gut told him otherwise.

‘Ten minutes,’ called a production assistant.

Tyler scrubbed his face with his hands. The timing was terrible. He wasn’t supposed to take his mobile inside. Well, to hell with the rules. Frustration gnawed at him. The competition was about to start, but his mind was far from the kitchen.

A fellow chef approached him, holding out his phone and grinning.

‘Guess what, mate? You and me? We’re odds-on favourites to take this comp out.

’ He showed Tyler the screen displaying a page from Sportsbet.

Tyler barely took any notice, shaking the man’s hand absentmindedly when he said, ‘May the best man win.’

His phone felt like a lead weight. He tried to reach Clare, then Tom, Leo and Christy.

Each call dropped out, each text failed.

The landline went unanswered. He checked the Toowoomba rain radar loop on his phone.

It showed a massive storm heading for Currawong Creek.

Storms always wreaked havoc with phone reception out that way, which explained the failed calls.

Worry gnawed at him, growing with every passing minute. He stared at his phone, hoping for a notification, a sign, anything. The words of the note with its veiled threat repeated over and over in his brain. Tyler shook his head, trying to dislodge the fear that had taken root.

‘Hey, are you okay?’ one of the other chefs asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Tyler nodded, his nerves strung tight as a drum. ‘Yeah, just a bit distracted. Family stuff.’

The chef slapped his shoulder. ‘It’ll be fine. Focus on the food. You’ve got this.’

Tyler wished it were that simple. He checked the time, the moments ticking by with agonising slowness. The bell signalling the start of the competition would sound any second now. He should have been mentally preparing his dishes, but all he could think about was Leo.

The room quieted. Through the anteroom’s open doors he could see the judges settling into their seats.

The bell rang – a clear, sharp sound. The chefs hurried into the Top Chef kitchen to claim their cooking stations.

All except for Tyler. He yanked off his apron and tossed it aside.

He couldn’t do this. Not now. Not with Leo in danger.

Tyler’s heart hammered in his chest as he sprinted down the hallway.

I’m coming for you, buddy , he thought. Hold on . He had to get to Currawong Creek.