Everyone on This Train Is a Suspect

I was tempted to snap at him, “Somebody’s stealing your Land Cruiser,” but instead I put my hands up in surrender and backed off apologetically. I did my best to look casual as I headed to my room, but my legs itched to run and I settled into a stiff-legged speed-walk. I quickly checked that Hatch had turned around as I approached my room, then skipped past it and kept going to the carriage divider. Once I was through the door, I let my legs fly. I ran through the remaining carriages full pelt, just about bouncing off the walls of the tiny corridors, until I was finally at the back, where I wrenched open the door to the smoking deck.

The heat of the desert hit me like a wall. The white glare made me wince. Then the engines of the train rumbled to life and, with a clank, we started to roll: Adelaide bound. I looked out over the end of the train, where the ground beneath had turned into a conveyor belt. The speed increased, from a walk to a jog to a run. The ground started to blur. I couldn’t hesitate any longer.

I was done digging holes. It was time to find some opals.

I gripped the iron railing and vaulted over the fence, landing with a crunch in the middle of the tracks.

Chapter 28

I didn’t have time to think about the consequences of the train pulling away into the distance, leaving me without shade, food or water, forty kilometers of barren desert between me and the nearest town. Or the fact that I was on my own chasing a potential murderer and, not only that, but on foot, while they had a vehicle. I was acting on instinct and adrenaline alone.

I suspected they’d steal it at some stage, I just hadn’t known when. But then I’d seen the shadow sitting in the Land Cruiser and remembered Cynthia being asleep, and I knew it had happened. A quick glimpse over Hatch’s shoulder into Wyatt’s room was all I’d needed: the table by the window was empty. Life, Death and Whiskey was gone.

I sprinted down the tracks—the movement of the train had taken me past the Land Cruiser and so I had to head back to it. The rattle of the Ghan faded, and now I could hear the revving clunk of an engine that someone was desperately trying to hot-wire, sweaty fingers slipping off the wires as they saw me coming. I was maybe fifty meters from the vehicle when they gave up and stepped out into the desert, looked at me for a second and then ran across the road and into the opal fields.

“Lisa!” I yelled. “Wait!”

I peeled off the tracks and into the fields myself, past a gigantic skull-and-crossbones sign that read: Warning: Uncovered mine shafts, do not enter on foot. I dashed past it. Lisa was ahead of me, the distance shrunk by ten or so meters. I kept an eye on her while trying to keep my gaze down. All around me the ground opened up into gaping wells, mounds of dirt beside them. Lisa was being slightly more cautious around the mine shafts than I was, so I was closing in on her.

“I know what happened!” I yelled. “Please. Let’s talk about it.”

Lisa didn’t stop. And so I kept running, weaving between the holes and the dirt and gaining, step by step. Closer. Closer. I focused on her back as the distance closed. Thirty seconds and I’d have her.

My left foot slid sideways. I looked down and saw cascading silt pouring into a deep black hole. My arms pinwheeled as I regained my balance. I stood for a second, peering into the hole, breathing deep relief.

When I looked up, Lisa was gone.

I whipped my head around but she was nowhere to be seen. The entire opal field was desolate, empty. Mounds of dirt surrounded me like statues. Spindly insect legs of cranes and drills rose up in the distance against the bright blue skyline. I listened. No footsteps.

She couldn’t have outrun me so quickly; my rebalancing had only taken a couple of seconds. Had she fallen? I figured I might have heard a scream. She had to be hiding, must have ducked behind one of the dirt mounds. She might even be moving from mound to mound, circling back to the car. Or sneaking up behind me. I imagined hands on my back and spun around. Nothing. Just me and hundreds of silent mounds.

I edged forward, now prioritizing silence over speed and peering behind each mound as I passed it. “Come out, Lisa,” I said. “The Ghan has left. It’s just us here.”

I kept moving forward, in a wide sweep, giving myself as broad a view as possible of the backs of the dirt pillars. And then I spotted an elbow. It was indistinct, about three mounds down to the left of me—Lisa had indeed been moving back toward the car, hopping mound to mound while my head was turning. I’d only caught the barest glimpse. I took a sideways step to get a better view.