CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Georgie glanced at her phone. 1.30pm and still no reply to the voice or text messages she’d sent nearly two hours earlier. Had Franklin even received them? He could be in a black spot for coverage. Her mood darkened. Maybe he didn’t rate her information.
She tapped her mobile on the steering wheel. Granted, what she’d discovered was tenuous. Even more so, her jumps connecting it with the Murrays. But her instincts and imagination had reaped rewards before, and Franklin normally listened.
She stared at sprawling paddocks of billiard-table green. The gently curving gravel driveway splitting them was lined with n***d silver birches. Their smooth white trunks with dark knobbles formed a striking contrast to the browns and olives of the towering, multi-limbed gumtrees near
