Garry Disher: Two-Way Cut

Leah shrugged. Saving Allynsons life had been instinctive. But it had earned her some grudging respect from the police who had swarmed through the house afterwards. In other circumstances they might have harassed her or arrested her on some trumped-up charge. They were wary around her, but it was coloured by respect, not hatred.

At least, thats how things stood here, now. Leah knew enough not to go back to her house. She certainly wasn’t about to rejoin the police force. There were still those who hated her and wanted to do her harm. Some men had long memories.

The only standing offer had come from Abbott, the private detective, not ten minutes ago. Would Leah consider joining his firm?

Leah had said shed think about it, but what she saw, in her minds eye, was not a Leah Flood shadowing some philandering husband, drinking stale coffee in a stakeout vehicle and pissing in a plastic container, but a Leah Flood standing with her thumb out, somewhere along a beckoning highway in the vast emptiness, waiting to see what might happen next.