He stood up and sprinted back towards the crest of the hill, and his father. ‘Let’s go.’
‘We haven’t finished.’
‘Let’s go.’
They walked back to the fence that surrounded the compound. Moy lifted a wire and George squeezed through. His pants caught and tore on a barb. ‘Shit.’
‘Ssh,’ Moy repeated, following.
They moved around the edge of the compound, past the tractor shed and the silos. George tripped on a length of metal, fell and then sat up. ‘Christ,’ he said, loudly, forgetting.
‘Ssh.’
A light went on in the house.
‘Quick,’ Moy said. He helped his father up, took him by the top and dragged him towards the back of the shed. They hid behind the double wheels of the big John Deere and waited.
‘What’s the time?’ George asked.
Moy checked. ‘Quarter past five.’
‘Maybe he’s feeding the pigs?’
‘Maybe you woke him up.’
The front door opened and Humphris emerged from the house. He was in shadow. He straightened his back, coughed, and looked around the compound.
‘What’s he doing?’ George asked, looking across the twenty or so metres between them.
‘Not a word,’ Moy whispered in his ear.
They waited. Humphris went back into the house and re-emerged with a lit torch. He slipped his feet into a pair of boots and started walking towards them. Moy pushed his father’s head below the tyre. ‘Ssh.’
Humphris stopped in front of the shed. Moy watched the white beam working its way through the dark: a wall lined with hessian bags, halters and chains hanging from rusty hooks, the green and gold reflection from the machinery.
Father and son almost stopped breathing. They heard the torch click off, footsteps, then on again. Humphris was searching the other sheds, his scrap yard, the mid-distance of sheep pens and a small cattle yard with a broken crush. Footsteps. Light. Shallow breathing.
‘Be light soon,’ George whispered.
‘Ssh.’
‘You got your gun?’
Humphris returned to his house. He took off his boots and went inside. The outside light stayed on.
‘Should we go?’ George asked.
‘Wait.’
‘It’ll get light.’
‘Wait.’
Twenty minutes later Moy was ready. They moved around the compound, staying hard up against the sheds. They walked quietly, without talking, the first whiff of sun on their skin. When they were back on the road Moy said, ‘That wouldn’t have happened if you’d done as I said.’
George just shrugged. ‘Y’never get anywhere by listening to common sense.’
44
THEY ARRIVED BACK at the car and Moy said, ‘Right, get in.’ He held the door open for his father.
George climbed into the passenger side and Moy went around, and sat beside him. ‘I’ve gotta deal with all this, and then the thought of you, lying on the ground.’
‘Stop fussing. Get on with it.’
Moy called the station and waited while the radio hissed.
Eventually Gary came on. ‘You heard anything?’
‘You couldn’t do me a favour?’
‘Go on.’
‘Anyone you can get a hold of, call ’em, ask them to get to the station as soon as possible. Then, can you get down here? Watch this place while I get a warrant.’
‘What do you need a warrant for?’ George asked.
Moy glared at him. ‘Dad, let’s just dot the bloody i’s, eh?’
Half an hour later, Gary arrived.
‘I’m pretty sure he’s got Patrick inside,’ Moy said. ‘Just stay here, wait, watch, while I drop Dad home, and go see Sutton.’
George didn’t look happy. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘You are,’ Moy replied. ‘And this time I’m not arguing.’
At six-thirty, after dropping his father home, Moy knocked on the door of 18 Dunlop Terrace, offering his hand to Andrew Sutton, JP. ‘Bart Moy,’ he said. ‘Guilderton police. We have a missing child.’
‘I heard.’ Sutton massaged his unshaved chin. He appeared determined to make the most of what might be his only big moment.
‘I think I know where he is.’
‘Come in.’
For thirty minutes, as Mrs Sutton made tea and toast, Moy explained the last few hours and days, concluding, ‘So, the chances are he’ll act soon. I have a car parked in his drive, watching.’
Sutton reached for his briefcase. ‘I’ll just arrange the paperwork.’
Moy returned to the station to muster the other officers. They strapped pistols over T-shirts and Moy found the biggest of the door rams. Then he gathered them in the lunch room and explained. ‘If I’m wrong, I’m gonna look pretty bloody stupid.’ But he knew he was past the point of inaction. He felt he was right. Knew, somehow, Patrick was inside the house.