Grave catch, p.1
Grave Catch, page 1
Grave Catch
Dawn Grave, Volume 5
Fiona Tarr
Published by Fiona Tarr, 2026.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
GRAVE CATCH
First edition. February 28, 2026.
Copyright © 2026 Fiona Tarr.
ISBN: 978-1923402355
Written by Fiona Tarr.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Thank You!
Books by Fiona Tarr
Chapter 1
Rhythmic thuds tapped out in succession, echoing toward Dawn on the still morning air. She inhaled the scent of kiln-dried pine, pressed the saw to life and slid it out to cut the timber to the desired length.
The smooth blade cut through like butter, sending fine sawdust into the air—hovering for a split second before the dust extractor sucked it away.
‘I can carry it, Auntie Dawn,’ Abby yelled, then quietened as Dawn switched the equipment off.
Her niece’s blonde ringlets and bright blue eyes belied her precocious, determined nature. Dawn didn’t doubt Abby would give anything a go, especially since discovering she was going to be a big sister. But carrying a three-metre-long piece of timber weighing close to her body weight was out of the question.
‘Thanks Abby, but this one is a bit long.’ Abby pouted, ready to argue. Dawn interrupted her with a nod toward a pile of pre-cut noggins on the ground. ‘You can bring a few of those.’
A wide grin split Abby’s lips as she stacked as many pieces as possible into her arms and juggled them while she followed Dawn along the covered veranda.
‘Liam got a spot on the swimming team with me, and we are going to be champions just like you and Uncle Fraser.’
Dawn’s chest tightened at the mention of the brother she and her sister Lisa idolised. It wasn’t a surprise Lisa kept Fraser’s memory alive for Abby. Like Dawn, his swimming career was cut short.
Unlike Fraser, who died before he could fulfil his aspirations of competing in the Olympics, Dawn’s reason for quitting haunted much of her adult life.
She shook the memory away, reminding herself it was a dark part of her past, one she could finally put to rest.
‘That’s very exciting Abby.’ Dawn passed the length of timber to the carpenter. ‘Put those down there.’ She pointed and Abby dropped the timber in a clattering heap.
‘Look at you.’ The carpenter’s broad smile sat below his caterpillar-thick moustache. ‘You are so strong, little one.’
Abby thrust her hands to her hips.
‘I’m not little.’ She flexed her arm to reveal thin white skin and flesh. ‘I’m strong like Auntie Dawn.’
Dominic smoothed his features with practised expertise. Dawn struggled to do the same and was relieved when the screen door flung open and slapped the wall behind it.
‘Abby. What on earth are you doing?’ Lisa waddled onto the deck with one hand wrapped under her belly. ‘You’ll get sawdust all over your school uniform. Come finish your breakfast.’
Dawn noticed their adopted Chihuahua poke her head out of the door, growl, then scurry back inside as Abby rolled her eyes and stomped her way toward the kitchen.
Most of the renovations were done inside. All that remained was an extension onto the veranda to accommodate Dawn’s future ensuite.
She wasn’t sure she was going to be using it though. Lisa’s new baby was due soon and as much as she wanted to be close to her sister, the baby, Abby, the widow Bella, her cranky Chihuahua Chelsea and Rusty the labrador they kept from a past case—so much commotion was probably going to be too much for a woman who spent twenty years living alone.
She knew she could get used to it, but she worried about bringing Clint into the bedlam. They were getting used to their new relationship. Not only working partners, but life partners. Was he ready for the mayhem of the Grave household? Did she want him to be?
‘I need another one the same length.’ Dominic passed her a piece of timber with measurements scrawled in thick builder’s pencil. ‘And I’ll need these too.’
Dawn’s phone buzzed in her pocket.
‘I’m sorry Dominic. I’ll need to take this. It could be work.’
Dominic tapped his brow with a mock salute.
‘If duty calls Detective.’
Dawn slid her finger over the answer bar.
‘Detective Dawn Grave.’
‘Dawn. We’ve got a floater.’
‘Good morning to you too Ross.’
It took Dawn months to get used to calling the former Constable Martin, now Sergeant, by his first name. She grew up with the man picking up the pieces her father dropped. If it weren’t for Ross, she’d have been a juvenile delinquent, not a seasoned police detective.
‘Sorry, this one is time-sensitive.’
Dawn passed the makeshift cutting list back to Dominic who nodded he understood.
She covered her ear and walked away as his nail gun kicked back into gear.
‘What do you mean?’
‘I know you like to see a body in-situ, but this is a curly one. A police chopper with a dive team on board will touch down to pick you up from the hospital helipad, if you can get there in twenty minutes.’
‘Twenty!’ Dawn assessed her sawdust covered khaki work shirt and shorts. ‘Where is the body?’ She rushed around the covered veranda to the front of the house.
‘It’s been dragged in a prawn net about five nautical miles off the coast. The dive team is heading out to secure the body and check the surrounding water for debris or anything to explain how she got there.
Dawn held the phone to her ear as she rushed down the outdoor staircase, across the thick carpet of grass toward her rusted Datsun 120Y.
‘I’ll be there. Tell them not to leave without me.’
‘You got it.’
‘Is Cl... Ryan on his way? She nearly called her partner by his first name. Their personal relationship wasn’t a secret, but sleeping with her part-time detective partner wasn’t something she chose to broadcast.
‘Forensics are right behind the dive team on a secondary chopper. They’ll assess the scene, secure the body, then give the okay to head back to port. I’ve contacted Detective Ryan and he’s on standby, but early indications are you’ll need him on this one.’
Dawn retrieved her badge from her go-bag, started the car and pressed the Blue Ant on her visor to let the speaker take the call. Without a police-issue vehicle, it was the best she could do for now.
‘So they’re thinking the death is suspicious?’
‘You let me know when you get there Dawn.’
Chapter 2
Dawn clambered through the open, metre-wide sliding door as the chopper blades whirred back into gear.
Two pilots wearing white and blue chequered police issue helmets were obscured by high-backed seats. Another officer lifted his visor, pointed to the bench seat at the rear of the helicopter, and handed her a helmet with a built-in headset.
She flopped into the seat, dusted off some loose sawdust and slipped the helmet on.
The officer lifted an eyebrow and grinned, no doubt amused by her dishevelled appearance. ‘Buckle up Detective.’
She clipped her badge to the top pocket of her crumpled and dusty shirt and watched the officer lean over, slam the side door closed and lower his face-shield.
Dawn adjusted the mic. ‘Thanks for waiting guys.’
She clipped her chest harness in place as the chopper lurched from the ground and sped forward before gaining altitude.
A fourth officer, with his face shield still lifted, checke d her harness.
‘You swung on a winch before Detective?’
His words were calm, polite, not mocking.
‘Not for a few years. I’m open to a quick refresher.’
He pointed to the console by the first officer. A screen displayed numbers and lights with buttons and symbols Dawn didn’t recognise.
‘Bridges will be on the winch.’
The first officer tapped his lowered visor with a half wave.
‘From our briefing, the body appears to be aboard the fishing trawler already. Since we won’t be retrieving the body, we’ll winch you down in tandem, drop you off to do your thing, then start a search of the surrounding water while we wait for the forensic team.’
Dawn studied the broad shoulders and easy smile and considered how the day would have ended a year ago. Her life was messy back then. Her relationships hot, fast and over before they began.
Before meeting Clint Ryan, Dawn would have relished being squeezed up against a hunk of muscle like... she scanned his name tag, Officer Lincoln. She shook the thought away, despite the officer’s sexy grin.
‘So the trawler hasn’t shifted from the body recovery point?’
Officer Lincoln’s broad, neoprene-wrapped shoulders shrugged as he slipped his visor in place.
‘I only know what we’ve been told. Trawler radioed it in. They were told to stay put unless it was unsafe to do so.’
‘Roger that.’ Dawn unclenched her hands, stretched her fingers and tried to roll her shoulders as she focused out the window at the indigo blue ocean below.
Being suspended a few thousand feet above sea level in a tin can made her stomach tumble. But seeing where the body was recovered was important and could be crucial to an investigation, especially if anyone on board was involved or things weren’t as cut and dried as they seemed.
Dawn wondered if someone might have fallen overboard from a freighter or fishing vessel. Five nautical miles was a long way offshore if the person was dead on land, then washed out to sea by the tide or drowned on a local beach.
She hoped this was going to be a straightforward accident. A few hours of paperwork and she’d be back cutting timber for Dominic so they could finish the renovation before the new baby arrived.
Dawn smiled as she recalled Abby’s question about when Dawn was going to have a baby. Clint was all for practising, but she hoped he wasn’t serious about kids. She was already in her late 30s and at the height of her career.
In Adelaide, she was months away from a promotion to Senior Sergeant. A team of her own was hovering on the horizon. It was everything she ever wanted. The idea of moving back to her hometown was terrifying.
Did she still feel the same way?
Coming back to Cooktown allowed her to unburden a lifetime of pain. Returning gave her the chance to deal with her demons with fresh, adult eyes. Her career might be on hold, but she was coming to realise her job wasn’t everything. It didn’t define her as it once did.
Dawn watched the whitecaps crest the ocean as the chopper reduced altitude.
‘Five minutes out,’ one of the pilots announced, dragging her from her thoughts.
Officer Lincoln passed her a harness.
‘Get this on.’
Bridges readied the winch as a fishing trawler, net booms extended, came into view.
Dawn struggled into the harness as the chopper banked and circled around the scene. Her stomach tensed with apprehension as she peered through the side window for a glimpse of the vessel and crew.
Bridges supervised Lincoln clip into the winch line, then double-checked the carabiners before returning to the control board.
Lincoln waved Dawn toward him.
She rose on shaking legs, steadied herself with one hand firmly pressed against the quilted roof lining, and staggered clumsily toward Lincoln’s outstretched hand.
Bridges clipped a carabiner to her harness, checked it was on correctly, then attached a thick webbing to the winch line alongside Lincoln’s line. The door slid open with a thud.
Warm, moist air whipped Dawn’s face, lifting stray strands of hair uncontained by her helmet. One caught in her mouth. She ignored it as Lincoln slid toward the opening and beckoned her to join him.
Dawn’s chest tightened as he sat on the edge and swung his legs into thin air. She jumped when his voice crackled in her ears.
‘Keep your hands crossed over your chest.’ He illustrated. ‘Try not to wriggle. I’ll control everything.’
Dawn nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Officer Lincoln was unaware that letting someone else control anything was not in Dawn’s nature.
The chopper circled, then hovered. Lincoln directed Dawn to mimic his position while Bridges let out some slack in the winch line. Lincoln crossed his arms, reminding Dawn to do the same.
As soon as she did, strong arms wrapped around her and Dawn’s butt left the solid metal floor of the chopper. Her breath caught in her throat. She gripped her biceps with sweating palms and pressed her eyes shut.
Fighting nausea, she tried to calm her breathing. Despite the swinging sensation, she forced herself to open her eyes.
Officer Lincoln’s smiling lips were visible below his visor. Dawn focused on them as he spoke.
‘I’ve got you Detective. Try to enjoy the ride.’
Chapter 3
Dawn’s heart hammered in her chest as they slowly rotated below the chopper. The cloudless day left a distinct line on the horizon where the ocean met the blue sky.
She concentrated on the top of the trawler’s wheelhouse as the team expertly directed the winch line to a small space between the rescue raft and communication antenna. The landing area was smaller than her family dining table.
Sweat drenched her back, despite the sea breeze. Her stomach lurched as her toes, then feet found firm footing. Her sense of security was short-lived as the vessel bucked on the rolling swell.
Dawn lost her balance as Lincoln unclipped her carabiner. He reached out to steady her. She giggled, then pressed her lips together hoping she didn’t sound like a foolish schoolgirl.
‘You good?’
She nodded, still unwilling to trust her voice.
‘Great, we’ll need this back.’ Lincoln tapped the top of the helmet she wore.
‘Sure.’ Dawn struggled to undo it and maintain her stance.
‘We’ve got Coast Guard and a police vessel on the way with the rest of the dive team.’ Lincoln accepted the helmet, clipped it to his side. ‘We’ll let you know if we find anything in the water.’ He signalled for Bridges to winch him up.
‘Thanks.’ Dawn half waved as Lincoln’s feet left the vessel and rose skyward. The trawler pitched sideways. She grabbed the emergency raft enclosure to steady herself.
A weathered hand gripped her arm.
‘You need a hand, Missy?’
Dawn shook her head. The fisherman’s hand dropped away. She scanned the deck. The vessel wasn’t what she expected.
The skipper read her expression.
‘She’s little, but she’s got a big gut.’ He patted his round belly as he rolled with the vessel. ‘Holds quite the catch.’
He cast his eyes over the ocean as Lincoln, now fitted out with dive tanks and flippers, pin-dropped from the winch line.
‘I could have GPS-marked this spot and brought the lass in you know. It’s only an hour to port and me catch is ruined anyway.’
Dawn turned to where his leather-gloved hand pointed. Netting, ropes, pulleys and the odour of seafood faded as she focused on the wrinkled flesh and matted hair atop the sorting grate.
‘I’m sorry about holding you up and we appreciate you could have brought her to harbour, but it’s best we see her here first.’
‘Your call, Missy.’
‘Detective Grave, or Dawn.’ She smiled to take the sting from her words.
He smiled good naturedly.
‘Me late wife’s name was Dawn.’
She tried to read the sentiment behind the statement but decided it wasn’t relevant.
‘Can you talk me through what happened?’
‘Best we ask the lads.’ The skipper pointed to the lower deck.
Dawn scurried down the ladder to where two younger men sat on the boat’s patchy-painted gunwales. The taller of the two was lean and lanky with thick wavy hair. His eyes studied her with fascination. She shivered under his scrutiny. The other appeared in his early twenties. His dark blond hair hid beneath a bucket hat, while his slim shoulders hunched as he studied his rubber boots.
