Bitter Wash Road (41 page)

‘Sam’s mother?’

Kropp nodded. ‘Father shot through years ago.’

He didn’t approach the house but led Hirsch to the rotting sheds at the back, where a rust-fretted Land Rover sat on weak tyres among the nettles.

Slamming his meaty palm on the dented nose of the vehicle, Kropp said, ‘If you’d done your job right, you’d have found this fine example of English automobile engineering registered to one Mary Kathleen Hempel.’

He stared intently across at the house.

Hirsch followed his gaze. Sam Hempel stood at the back door, shoulders slumped. No fight in him and nowhere to run. The boy who borrowed the Land Rover whenever his own car wouldn’t start.

‘Still got your copper’s instincts, Sarge.’

Kropp bristled. Seeing no disrespect, he stared out over the touch-and-go paddocks, the blurred horizon, and finally at the miserable house and the man he’d come to arrest.

‘Me,’ he said, ‘I’m going out in a blaze of glory.’