Dark Country by Bronwyn Parry

Gillespie park the police car in front
     of the station.
    ‘Shit. The working bee tonight. I’d forgotten about it.’
    His mouth a hard line, Gil didn’t say anything.
    Kneeling on the veranda of the hall, Jim Barrett paused in the act of hammering in a floorboard, and slowly stood up. Karl
     Sauer and a mate, loading paint tins into the back of a ute turned and stared, Karl taking a few steps forward, and from the
     window of the kitchen several female faces watched, new lace curtains pulled back for a better view.
    ‘Maybe it’s for the best that they’ve seen us,’ she said quietly. ‘Most people have enough sense to know that if I thought
     you were a murderer, you wouldn’t be driving me around the countryside.’
    He still didn’t respond. Staring at the hall, he unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door slowly.
    Kris climbed stiffly out of the car.
    ‘Everything all right, Kris?’ Jim called out.
    ‘Yes. Had a close encounter with a road, at some speed. Some bloody moron tried to run me over. It’s just scratches and bruises,
     though.’ Including a holster-shaped one on her hip that was now making its presence felt as she put weight on her leg.
    Loud enough for the spectators to hear, she turned to Gil and added, ‘Thanks for everything, Gil. I really appreciate all
     your help today.’
    She couldn’t exactly apologise for his arrest – that might get her into legal hot water – but she figured her words might
     convince the audience that he’d cooperated fully and was not under suspicion.
    Beth emerged from the hall, her large first-aid pack weighing down one shoulder. She raised her hand in a casual wave to someone
     inside, carefully stepped over the floorboard Jim was fixing, and strolled across the grass to them.
    ‘Walking wounded, I see,’ Beth said cheerfully. ‘I’m glad it’s not worse.’
    ‘So am I,’ Kris answered dryly.
    Gil came around the side of the car and, with a nod to Beth, opened the back door to retrieve his bag.
    ‘Hello, Gil,’ Beth greeted him with quiet warmth, with none of the tension that was emanating from the hall. ‘It’s good to
     see you again.’
    Of course, Kris thought, they’d both grown up in Dungirri, must have known each other as kids. Kris would have to ask Beth
     what she knew about him; although she couldn’t really imagine sweet, quiet Beth and the hard-edged Gil having had much in
     common.
    Gil didn’t smile, but the wariness in him seemed to relax a little.
    ‘Hi, Beth.’
    Out of the corner of her eye, Kris saw that the curtain in the kitchen had fallen back into place, and she heard Jim’s hammering
     start up again. Good. The odds of another lynching tonight had just reduced. Maybe the renaissance of community spirit, led
     by the Progress Association, was having a positive effect.
    With some reluctance, Kris shrugged off Gil’s jacket and handed it back to him, the chill without it adding to her discomfort.
     She should get inside, turn the heater on, but he stood there with his bag, about to leave, and for reasons she didn’t try
     to comprehend she wasn’t ready to let him walk away for good just yet.
    ‘It would be useful to have a witness statement from you, Gil, if you’d be willing to give one.’ A logical request. She hoped
     he wouldn’t refuse.
    He might have considered it for a moment, but eventually said, ‘Yeah, I guess so.’
    ‘Can you come back after you’ve taken your things to Jeanie’s? Beth should be finished with me by then. If I can get the incident
     report finalised tonight, then Steve Fraser can get onto it first thing in the morning.’
    He slung his jacket over his shoulder. ‘Sure. If that’s what you want.’
    The lack of enthusiasm in his voice spurred her to convince him. ‘I want to arrest him, Gil, and charge him. It could have
     been any one of my officers out there tonight. Half the time we’re travelling alone, because we cover a huge region and there’snot many of us. The sooner