CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
They had ten or fifteen minutes of daylight left, and the rain was a persistent drizzle. Neither Bob or Hilda had answered Jacquie’s questions about Lachie, or spoken since.
Franklin came to a boil. He ducked into the van. ‘We have to do something.’
The boss ended a radio conversation, then answered him. ‘Stay calm, that’s the first thing.’
‘I want to go in.’
‘We’re nowhere near ready to discuss things like that. Sit.’ The boss waved him to the opposite bench. ‘The rest of the family has been accounted for. Bob picked up Lachie this morning – to go firewood collecting, he’d said. Lachie’s brother couldn’t go. Tonsillitis.’
‘Lucky for him.’ Franklin bunched his hands under the table. ‘Lachie doesn’t deserve to be trapped up in this. We have to get him out.’
‘I u
