Page 68 of Cold Stock

‘As long as you don’t lean overboard.’Stone peered over the simple wooden railing to check the depth, noting the side mesh was gone in patches.

Of course, shortcake had to shadow him, with her reflection next to his.‘What did I just say about keeping your limbs in?’He grabbed her by the hips and carried her over to sit her on the stool, well away from the edge to keep her safe, then patted her head.‘Stay.Sit.And happy fishing.’

‘Where are you going?’

‘To speak with Chook.’

‘I know we’ve been seeing juveniles all day, but those out there are the wild ones.The savage ones.Right?’She gripped the fishing rod as her only tool against the adult crocodiles, watching her from the far side of the river.‘Is it safe?’

‘Roman—’

‘It’s Romy.’

‘So ya reckon,’ mumbled Chook, leaning his shoulder against the wall.‘I’ve been camping on this spot for over fifty-five years.Those old dogs know not to mess with me.They just sit there to taunt me.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I used to hunt them.’Chook pushed open a large window to the lounge room that was full of assorted crocodile memorabilia.There were large skulls, leathers, hats, boots, even a full-sized stuffed crocodile stretched over the indoor bar, and lots and lots of photos of Chook with crocodiles.

‘No wonder Stone called this the crocodile museum.Impressive.’Romy went to move from her stool, only to pause, remembering she was meant to sit and fish.How long would that last before she swapped the fishing rod for her camera?

‘And those blighters on that riverbank, especially that dark-skinned one,’ said Chook, pointing to the other side of the river, ‘he got away from me and my croc traps.But they know not to get too close, or I’ll feed them a belly full of lead.’

‘Isn’t it illegal to hunt them now?’

‘Sure, it is.But do you see any of them pencil-pushing policymakers out ‘ere, Roman?’Chook nodded at the river.

‘Is that what happened to your leg?A crocodile?’Romy asked.

‘Yep,’ he said with an exaggeratedp.‘Croc got it.’Chook hoisted his wooden leg up on the railing and gave it a knock.‘It was that mongrel hanging on my wall, there.He snapped it clean off just below the knee.And before you ask, river water mucks up the joints in those fancy prosthetic limbs.It’s easier using this stump on board—less slipping, fewer headaches.’

But Stone also knew Chook liked playing pirate with his wooden leg.

Chook patted Stone’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze.‘Now, why are you here?Besides showing off for the Roman?’

‘It’s Romy.’She rolled her eyes at them.

‘Nothing wrong with her hearing.’Both men chuckled, moving to the back deck’s comfy lounge chairs.‘Is she your new backpacker for the boys?’

‘Romy came out to film a documentary…’ Stone gave Chook the short and sharp version of the story.‘And her drones have been a big help with this investigation.’

‘I know kids do them dares to steal the odd croc to keep in the bathtub for a bit, and the cowboys full of rum and bad news do it for kicks.But that’s a bucketload of embryos and hatchlings.Bad news that.’Chook slowly shook his head, the river light catching the silver in his plaited hair and matching beard.

‘The thieves not only tried to set up Raven, but they did the oddest thing.’It had Stone scratching his head over it.

‘What?’Chook sat on his stool, one eye on the river, the other on Romy fishing.

‘They cut a hole in the front fences of both Northern Tides Aquafarms and Mudlands Crocodile Park and let loose a bunch of those juveniles.’

‘How many?’

‘Nine at Mudlands, and six at Northern Tides.’

‘They catch ‘em?’

Stone nodded.

‘What did you do with them?Can’t take ‘em back to Malcolm’s place, they’d have to be quarantined.’

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