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Good God. Could he trust him not to say anything? He nodded at Dean, holding his gaze to warn him, and then picked up the phone set.

‘Hey, Russ, how’s it going? How are they hanging?’

He glared at Dean and forced a smile between gritted teeth. ‘Gidday, mate, what’s it like on the outside? Nice of you to come and see me.’

Dean's eyes widened, and he finally picked up Russell’s displeasure. ‘Sorry you're still in here, mate. I've been thinking about you a lot. Got a lot going on already, travelling around. It's pretty good to be out.’

‘What have you been doing?’ Russell said, maintaining eye contact with Dean.

‘I saw my old man, picked myself up a little ute. Bought it at the car yard. Cheap price, mate.’

Russell nodded. ‘Sounds good. Lucky bugger.’

‘I took myself out to Kakadu for a drive and took a gander at the waterfalls. Climbed that special rock, the one Paul Hogan stood on in Crocodile Dundee that time. Everyone raves about it, but all I could see was a bit of water and some green grass and a bit of rock. Didn’t do anything for me, mate.’

‘Did you find a job?’ Russell asked, his gaze steely as he kept his voice casual.

‘Yeah, I called into a few mango farms along the highway. My old man used to have a farm, and I thought my experience might get me a job. On my way back from Kakadu, I stopped overnight at the pub and saw an ad. Exactly what I wanted.’ Dean raised his eyebrows at Russell. ‘Exactly. Bloke at a mango farm’s got me digging some trenches for irrigation pipes. A little bit of extra money, and I’m thinking about going for a big trip.’

‘Keeping busy, Dean.’

‘Yeah, and I tell ya, Russ, his missus is pretty good to look at too. After being in here, it’s like heaven on a stick. Tall, great body, long dark hair.’

Russell wondered what the hell he was trying to tell him. Who the fuck was he talking about? Ellie McLaren was supposed to be in Mexico, for Christ’s sake.

‘You want to watch yourself with your record, Deano,’ he said. ‘Don’t want to upset the husband and find yourself back in here.’ This time Russell raised his eyebrows. The guard couldn’t see his face from where he was standing.

‘Sure am. Might not be coming back into this joint again. The owner bloke, Kane’s a bit of a jerk, but he pays well.’

‘Pleased to hear that. Why is he a jerk?’

‘Calls himself “Sir I”! Stupid bastard. Must think he’s something special, and it took him half an hour to show me how to dig a fucking hole.’

Russell’s hopes were lifting. Maybe they hadn’t left yet. Perhaps the paper had jumped the gun.

‘Be good when you get out, Russ. How much longer have you got?’

Russell stared at him. Dean knew he still had almost four years to go as long as he maintained good behaviour. And with Dean coming in and trying to send him hidden messages in general conversation about jobs and things, he was jeopardising that. When Ellie McLaren died, he wanted no whiff of any contact linked to him through Dean.

‘Be good to see you out on the other side. It’ll go quick, mate.’

‘Listen, Dean, it’s hard for me to see someone going out there and listening to how good it is. I’d appreciate it if you never came here to see me again.’

‘Fair enough, mate. Suppose that’s what you want. It’ll give me something to look forward to when you get out. Anyway, I thought I’d just come in and say gidday.’ He beamed up at the correctional officer. ‘It’s good outside, hey mate?’

Russell stood and turned his back on the stupid idiot and gestured to the guard. He was ready to go back to his cell.

Rage filled Russell as he walked along the corridor.

Were they at the farm? Or were they in Mexico? He felt useless not being able to find out something so simple.

That fucking Porter family had won again, and he had to deal with it. He gagged, stopping the bile from filling his mouth. A sharp pain sliced down his chest from the temper he was holding in. That bitch had beaten him again. If they were out of town, who the fuck was Dean poisoning?

All he was doing was enjoying the proceeds of the money he’d been given. There was probably no one there. The stupid bastard had conned him and came to gloat.

Russell put his hand to his chest as he walked to the door. The guard looked at him, and Russell stared. ‘I need to make a phone call now.’

‘Yes, I’ll get it organised.’ Five minutes later, he dialled his contact outside.