CHAPTER EIGHT
Exhaustion went on the backburner when Charlotte texted. Trev’s first thought was she’d gone against everything he’d asked and ventured into the bushland. Pre-dawn—in his experience—was a dangerous time. More risk of crime. Or running across a snake or deadly spider web.
Hearing her voice and reassurance she was safe at home was a relief. There was enough to worry about without thinking she might be up to her sleuthing ways. He grinned. She belonged in a forensics crimes unit. He’d told her once, back in River’s End, how amazing her experience as a psychiatrist would be combined with a crime unit.
After their phone call, he left the constable who’d driven down from the central hub of Kyneton to watch the clearing and went for a walk. He trusted Charlotte. If she said there
