The Men In Uniform Collection. Barbara McMahon

      And every question he asked caused Romy’s spine to ratchet that little bit tighter until her determined strides through the trees looked plain uncomfortable.

      He knew what Leighton was doing. He remembered his parents’ flawed relationship, trying to work out what was up with the two most important people in his life. He’d poked and poked at the open wound of their marriage until it bled so he could comprehend it better.

      Leighton was just doing some good old-fashioned reconnaissance, eight-year-old style—trying to provoke a reaction so he could study the response. He’d make a great scientist. And a better soldier.

      Over his mother’s dead body.

      He glanced at Romy’s steely expression.

       And very possibly his.

       Chapter Eleven

      ROMY shifted uncomfortably for the sixteenth time. Her kitchen chairs were certainly not built for long-term occupation. She flexed her aching back and did a couple of quick stretches to give her a moment away from her laptop. The longer she stared, the less meaningful the images became. A jumbled montage of maps and highlighted points. She pushed all the paper maps away, too.

      ‘Whatcha doing?’ Leighton crash-landed in the chair next to hers, peering over her shoulder.

      ‘Trying to figure out who hit that kangaroo.’ She’d told her son all about it, hoping to win his interest back over to wildlife appreciation. It hadn’t worked. He was still fixated with Clint and all things military.

      ‘Why? Isn’t it too late now?’

      ‘Maybe I can stop them doing it again. A chance to educate someone.’ Much as she’d like to wring their irresponsible neck. She rubbed her knotted shoulder.

      Leighton’s sharp eyes missed nothing. ‘Is it hard work?’

      She blew out a breath and then smiled at the worry in his eyes. The protectiveness. Every day, more and more a young man. ‘I just feel like I’m missing something. Like it’s…right there…’ She tapped her forehead, then shook it.

      ‘Do you want to read it out loud?’

      She always made Leighton read words he didn’t understand aloud, to help with comprehension. After the tension they’d had between them this week she was just happy to be having a normal conversation with him. Grab it while you can—even if it means putting work off for a while.

      She smiled. ‘Can you spare a few minutes?’

      He scooted in closer. ‘Sure. It’s better than math homework.’

      If she was half the smooth operator she believed she was, she’d find a way to sneak in a mathematical principle or two while she was at it. She stretched out one of the maps. ‘Okay. So this is WildSprings.’ She pointed to the west of the map. ‘This is the admissions area where I work. This is our house…and Clint’s…and over here’s where I’m spending a lot of time.’

      ‘Is that the fence you keep fixing?’

      ‘That’s the one.’ She glanced at his eager, interested face. ‘So, knowing that, can you show me where Frog Swamp is?’

      He pointed immediately to a point just south of their house. She smiled. ‘And what’s the fastest way from our place to Clint’s?’

      Bright eyes turned up to her. ‘On foot or by car?’

      She smiled. Oh, clever boy. ‘Foot.’

      He stared hard at the map. ‘Is this the gully? The one we walked up to get to the roosting site? Which means Clint’s house is…there?’

      Romy glanced at the map, somewhat surprised he’d found it. ‘Well done. Yes, it is.’ Now on with her only semihypothetical problem. ‘And this is where we found the kangaroo.’ She pointed to a spot about halfway between the roosting site and the part of the fence that was fast becoming her second home.

      His little brows folded in and he shoved his glasses more firmly onto his nose. Her heart squeezed. It had been a long time since she’d seen him so…engaged. She frowned.

      ‘Go on, Mum…’

      She cleared her throat. ‘We were heading east from the roosting site when we found the roo. So, assuming the yahoos got in through the breach in the fence over here—’ she pointed to the east of WildSprings ‘—we should have passed them after they hit the roo. But we didn’t see them, so where did they go?’

      Leighton stared at the map, his little eyes darting all over it. ‘Could they have hidden anywhere?’

      Adorable. He was taking this so seriously. Romy did the same, focusing on keeping the smile from her face. ‘Not likely. Clint and I would both have noticed tracks running off the road.’

      She sat back and watched her son computing. His little fingers mimicked hers, tracing back and forth over the features of the map, nearly hunched over in concentration trying to solve the puzzle. After an eternity he sat straight and looked at her.

      ‘Do they have to be coming in the hole in the fence?’

      Ah, good boy. Question the variables. The kid was a natural scientist. ‘I guess they could have come through WildSprings’s main entrance—’

      ‘No. I mean…can’t they be going out through the fence?’

      Cold ice washed through Romy as she stared at her brilliant, brilliant son. It was so sensationally obvious.

      It wasn’t a shortcut in; it was a shortcut out.

      Her eyes narrowed. Breaking in was just petty vandalism. Idiots out hooning or showing off for their girlfriends. Someone secretly leaving the exclusive property felt a whole lot more sinister. Romy swivelled the map back towards her and let her eyes run from the breach in the fence, past the roo strike site to the roost site. Then back again.

      Her eyes widened and she kissed the ginger head beside her. ‘Leighton, you’re a genius! Time for bed.’

      His wail was almost comic. ‘But I helped you!’

      ‘Yes, you did. But until you invent a tool to bend time, then it’s still eight o’clock. Bedtime. Scoot.’

      The bright, eager shine in his eyes dulled to a rebellious storm cloud. A storm cloud rapidly preparing to break open. Romy felt the familiar tightening in her chest, the kick in her pulse. It wasn’t the same feeling she used to experience with her father but it was a close cousin. Not fear that she couldn’t control Leighton, but fear that she might. And not in a good way.

      She took a breath and tried to channel Clint. Firm but fair. ‘Twenty minutes of reading once you’re in your pyjamas. Then lights out.’

      The storm didn’t clear, but it didn’t break. He skulked to the base of the stairs.

      ‘And, Leighton?’ she went on as his foot hit the first tread. ‘Thank you. You’ve really, really helped.’

      He didn’t let her off the hook, but his back grew a tad straighter and his footfalls were lighter as he sprinted up the stairs.

      Some of the tension drained from her body. But not all of it.

      She spun the laptop towards herself and fired up her wireless email. The boys from Customs wouldn’t get it until the morning but alerting them to a possible issue required due diligence. Better that they have WildSprings on their radar than not.

      She was two-thirds of the way through detailing the recent incident when her laptop pinged to let her know it had finished loading her incoming mail. She glanced down to see who the new mail was from. There were two. Darren from Police, and Carly from Chicago.

      She flicked open Darren’s