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asphalt road, full of pot-holes large enough to swallow a

small sedan. On his left was dense bush land, nothing but

square kilometres of Eucalyptus, Grey Gums and the odd

Tallow Wood. The crime scene unit, three marked cop cars

and their flurry of red and blue flashing lights, served as

an unwelcome intrusion upon the otherwise picturesque

backdrop.

Smoke escaped the interior of Jay’s cruiser when he

stepped outside onto the loose gravel, stones crunched

loudly beneath his R.M. Williams boots. The cleansing

scent of eucalyptus filled the air. Jay drew a long, deep

breath savouring the purity of the rural setting. It had

been a long time since his lungs had experienced

anything other than the toxicity of city living. He turned

his head to the sky, amazed by the clarity and how very

different two environments, only ten kilometers apart,

could be. Just five minutes drive away was the hustle and

bustle of Showsdale, a city of eighty five thousand,

spoiled by pollution, progress and careless littering. Yet

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