Wildling Road: Wildling K9 Mystery Series - Book One, page 1
Published by Magpie Creative Media
ISBN 978-0-6484406-8-0
All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2026 Nikki Lee Taylor
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without prior permission in writing from the publisher with the exception of except for the use of brief quotations in a book.
Trigger Warning
This book contains references to sexual abuse and self-harm. While no scenes contain active descriptions of abuse or self-harm taking place, there are backstory references to historic instances of these types of issues.
Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander persons should be aware that this book contains the names of fictional deceased people.
Should any of these references raise any concerns, please contact your nearest mental health provider.
Acknowledgement of Country
I acknowledge the Traditional Custodians of the land and pay my respects to Elders past, present, and emerging.
I recognise their enduring connection to the land, waters, and culture, and extend that respect to all Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Peoples.
While this book is set in a fictional place, it is representative of a land we now know as the NSW Snowy Mountains.
It is not my intention to represent the Traditional Land Owners of this region, but to touch on the various cultures of this country and the importance of preserving the land.
I also thank and acknowledge Australian author and proud Wiradjuri woman Ruth Wkyes for carrying out a sensitivity read on this work prior to publication.
Author's Note
In recent years, I have begun to uncover and explore my own First Nations heritage. It's something I was not fully aware of growing up, and is a journey I approach with deep humility.
I do not claim to fully understand the complexity, strength, or lived experience of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Peoples
What I do carry is a desire to listen, to learn, and to do better.
If I have fallen short in any portrayal of First Nations characters, beliefs, traditions, or heritage, I sincerely apologise. It is never my intention to cause harm. Rather, my hope is to contribute to a greater awareness and appreciation of the stories that have long belonged to this land – stories far older than mine.
Nikki Lee Taylor
Dedication
Max and Sam, you taught me unconditional love.
Saxon, without you there would be no me.
There are people out there who may say, it's just a dog, but we know better, don't we?
Those of us fortunate enough to have been loved by a dog. Who've cried into their fur, come home to a joyful wagging tail, and felt the pain of saying the hardest goodbye of all.
To all the dogs who’ve loved us… this is for you.
Contents
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
19. Chapter Nineteen
20. Chapter Twenty
21. Chapter Twenty-One
22. Chapter Twenty-Two
23. Chapter Twenty-Three
24. Chapter Twenty-Four
25. Chapter Twenty-Five
26. Chapter Twenty-Six
27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
29. Chapter Twenty-Nine
30. Chapter Thirty
31. Chapter Thirty-One
32. Chapter Thirty-Two
33. Chapter Thirty-Three
34. Chapter Thirty-Four
35. Chapter Thirty-Five
36. Chapter Thirty-Six
37. Chapter Thirty-Seven
38. Chapter Thirty-Eight
39. Chapter Thirty-Nine
40. Chapter Forty
41. Chapter Forty-One
42. Chapter Forty-Two
43. Chapter Forty-Three
44. Chapter Forty-Four
45. Chapter Forty-Five
46. Chapter Forty-Six
47. Chapter Forty-Seven
48. Chapter Forty-Eight
49. Chapter Forty-Nine
50. Chapter Fifty
51. Chapter Fifty-One
52. Chapter Fifty-Two
53. Chapter Fifty-Three
54. Chapter Fifty-Four
55. Epilogue
Deadman's Hollow
56. Chapter One
About the Author
Let's Stay in Touch
Chapter One
THE scent of damp earth and eucalyptus hangs in the air – a stark reminder that we are in the thick of Wildling National Park. Behind us, the mountain range stretches out across the horizon, dawn’s first light washing its peaks in gold.
I shiver and glance at my watch. It’s been thirteen hours since local teenager Lilly Daniels was reported missing. I’ve checked the time so often it’s started to feel like a reflex, as though it might tell me something new if I look hard enough. But nothing is going to change the fact that we’re on the clock and that every second counts.
Over my shoulder, a cluster of bright orange vests stands out against the muted greens of the bush. New South Wales Parks Rangers, police, SES officers, and community volunteers. Their huddle is tight, their faces a mix of hope and grim resolve as they wait for my signal to move out. Most are men I’ve known my whole life. Men who still stare through me, then look again when they realise I’m the one in charge.
I zip my jacket and remind myself to stand up straight. The breeze has already pulled strands of dark hair from my beanie. They hang loose around my face, and I think to myself that I probably look more like one of the volunteers’ daughters than the canine search and rescue officer in charge. I let the thought pass. Doubt is a luxury I can’t afford out here. Not when everyone is counting on me – especially Lilly.
At my feet, my border collie shifts his weight from one paw to the other. Dew beads on his coat, his warm breath visible in the cold air. He barks and nuzzles his head against my leg. Koda never questions me. Some days it’s the only thing that keeps me going.
‘You ready to work?’ I ask, running a hand over his thick chocolate and white fur. ‘You ready to find someone?’
At full speed, Koda can run in bursts of up to fifty kilometres an hour and traverse this rugged landscape better than any of us. He prances on the spot, reminding me of a boxer ready to enter the ring. All muscle and focus, with no fear of what might come next.
‘All right, everyone,’ I call out, willing my voice not to break, ‘once we head out, stay in your groups and keep in constant communication. We’re reaching a critical window for finding Lilly Daniels safe and well. Every minute counts. If you think you’ve found something, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, blow your whistle.’
Aside from police and rangers, most of the SES and other searchers are volunteers. Local farmers, horsemen, and members of the community. They know this land like the back of their hands. There’s a few women in the group, including Bett Hastings, a red-headed, outspoken, third-generation cattle farmer known for her ability to wrangle a herd and slip curse words into every sentence, but most are men - the self-proclaimed pillars of the community. They are the sturdy hardwood that forms the structure of the town. Gnarly, weathered, and unwavering, Wildling’s patriarchy has always called the shots. Generation after generation of men standing tall and barking orders, disguising themselves as strong when, in truth, their rotten roots have been poisoning this place for decades.
I take out the Ziploc bag containing Lilly’s cotton nightgown and crouch beside Koda. His incredible nose can detect scent molecules on the ground and in the atmosphere, even rising from a person trapped beneath snow. It makes him the perfect search-and-rescue dog for an alpine area like Wildling National Park, which can see dozens of skiers and snowboarders become lost in white-out conditions and avalanches every winter.
I open the bag and exchange a glance with the park’s head ranger, and my boss, Kevin Daley. He watches closely but doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. I know he trusts me, and it’s not something I take lightly.
Koda sniffs at the opening, and his posture shifts, a shiver of excitement travelling along his spine. He barks and pulls against his harness.
I take a deep breath, shake out the tremor in my hands, and nod. It’s time. One way or another, we’re going to find Lilly Daniels.
‘Okay, Koda,’ I tell him. ‘Search!’
As we head out along the mountain track, I breathe in the crisp morning air. I catch myself counting steps and shake my head. It was something I did as a kid to make sure I never got lost. I guess old habits die hard, but at least the conditions are perfect. In the cold, scent molecules move closer together, creating a higher concentration of smell per square metre. At training, we were taught to think of them as individual football players spread out across the field.
Now imagine the weather turns bad and all the stinky men run in and huddle together in one locker room, our trainer had said. That’s how much easier it is for dogs to locate scent in cold weather.
I’d laughed back then, but as we head deeper into the park, it doesn’t seem so funny anymore.
Beside me, Koda’s feet brush against twigs and brittle autumn leaves. In a few days, the first snowfall of winter will arrive in the park, bringing with it an entirely new landscape. The world will be blanketed in white, the skeletal branches of gum trees laden with snow, and trails and tracks will disappear – along with any clues of what happened to Lilly.
Behind us, the team of searchers spreads out across the land like a human chain. Lilly’s phone last pinged in this location. In her statement, seventeen-year-old Britt Davis assured Wildling’s chief of police that her best friend would never be caught dead without her phone. That’s what I’m afraid of – that we’ll find the phone discarded in a rock pile or crevice somewhere near a cold and lifeless Lilly.
Out in front, Koda pushes ahead. ‘You’re doing great, mate,’ I tell him, keeping my voice light. ‘Good job, good job.’
A gentle breeze stirs the silence, rustling through the alpine scrub and catching the strands of hair that slipped from my beanie. I adjust my pack and follow Koda as he weaves over rocks and through narrow clearings, his ears flicking with each subtle shift in the wind.
He keeps his nose to the ground as he brackets left and right across the trail, searching for the scent cone – an invisible but pungent triangle that will point him in Lilly’s direction. I train my focus on his shoulders, his tail, all the small tells I’ve learned to read like a second language.
The breeze lifts again, and I glance upslope, following the line toward Mount Saxby. At this time of the morning, the park’s highest peak remains blanketed in cloud. Even though I can’t see it, I know it’s there, teasing and taunting, beckoning people to try and reach the summit. For the unprepared, the national park is like a giant Venus flytrap, drawing you in and then suddenly closing its jaws around you.
Suddenly, the high-pitched sound of a whistle causes my stomach to sink.
‘Stop!’ Daley’s voice bellows across the valley, and the chain of searchers comes to a halt.
‘Koda, wait,’ I command, then look over my shoulder to see what’s happening.
About fifty metres away, Daley is marching toward one of the SES searchers who’s crouched with his hand up. They’ve found something. Relief and dread instantly tangle in my gut.
Even as a pup, Koda could read my face, deciphering the slightest twitch of my lip or pull of my brow. As he gazes up at me, I know he doesn’t understand why we’ve stopped when he hasn’t located the scent source.
‘You’re good, mate,’ I tell him. ‘We’ll start again in a minute.’
His lack of interest in the direction of the searchers tells me they haven’t found Lilly – but perhaps they’ve located her phone.
Daley is quickly joined by a police officer, and together they crouch and point at something on the ground. I squint, trying to see what’s happening, but they’re too far away. A couple of minutes later, my walkie-talkie crackles and Daley’s voice booms against my shoulder.
‘Thomas, it’s Daley. Come in.’
‘Thomas,’ I reply.
‘We’ve got the phone. Battery’s dead. Keep pushing forward with Koda.’
‘Understood.’
‘And Mia…’
I swallow hard. Daley only ever calls me by my first name when something bad is about to happen. ‘Yeah, boss?’
‘Looks like there’s blood on the phone.’
Shit.
I nod but forget to speak as if he can see me.
‘You good?’
‘Good, boss. Resuming search.’
I glance down and meet Koda’s eye. There’s every chance today will be the day we locate our first body, and I wonder how that might affect him. Will Koda understand death, or think only that he’s done his job by finding the scent source? I scratch him behind the ear and remind myself that I’m projecting my human emotions onto him. He’ll be fine. I, on the other hand, have never found a body – not to mention that of a young woman I know.
Lilly is a teenager, and a wild one at that. At twenty-nine, I’m twelve years older than she is. I don’t know her well, but she and Britt Davis are known around Wildling as the kind of girls nice boys don’t bring home for barbecues or Christmas dinners. They’re promiscuous and rebellious. It’s hard to know if they’re bad girls or whether their poor choices are just the result of boredom. Around here, the line between the two is razor-thin. In a town of just 3,203 people, there isn’t a whole lot to do – and what you actually do can’t be kept secret.
Suddenly, Koda barks. Once, twice, three times. He’s found the scent cone.
‘In scent!’ I call into the walkie-talkie. ‘Letting my canine off lead.’
Once Koda is locked onto a scent, keeping pace is a challenge. There’s no way I can maintain his speed, so I unclip the leash from his harness and let him go. If Lilly’s on the move, Koda will catch up to her a lot faster than I can. He’ll find her, confirm visual contact, and then come back to me.
As he sprints into the bush, I pick up the pace, my lungs already burning. By the time Koda confirms a visual, I’ll be about halfway there. Hopefully, seeing my dog with his fluorescent orange K9 Search and Rescue vest will be enough to let Lilly know she’s safe.
‘Lilly Daniels!’ I call out as I run after him. ‘If you can hear me, stay where you are. My name is Mia Thomas. I’m a NSW Canine Search and Rescue Officer. My dog Koda is coming to you.’
But when only Koda’s frenzied bark echoes back, my stomach drops.
‘Lilly Daniels, can you hear me?’ I call again.
Once again, my walkie-talkie crackles, and Daley’s voice fills the air. ‘Thomas, come in.’
‘Thomas,’ I manage, gasping for air.
‘You got anything?’
‘No… visual… as yet,’ I huff. ‘Koda’s… got something. En route now.’
‘Confirm when you have a visual.’
‘Will… do.’
I push myself to run harder, wincing as branches catch my sleeve and scratch at my face. A few seconds later, Koda bounds back through the bush toward me, barking, then spinning in a tight circle. He has visual confirmation.
‘Good job, buddy,’ I tell him. ‘Show me.’
He turns and takes off. Once again, I call out, ‘Li… ll… y! Can you hear me?’
At this range, and with Koda’s visual confirmation, if she were alive, she’d have heard me.
Goddamn it.
I follow the sound of Koda’s short, sharp barks until he comes into view, perched in a small clearing up ahead. He’s led us back toward the farming properties that border the edge of the national park. Just beyond where Koda is standing, the land drops into a small ravine about six metres deep. Beyond that is Willow’s Crossing, a sprawling cattle farm owned by Wildling’s most influential family, the Stantons.
As I draw closer, three crows burst out, the beat of their wings matching my heart. They land on the branch of a nearby snow gum, their macabre wails echoing against the eerie silence. The bush knows before we do.
‘Shit,’ I whisper on a long breath. ‘That’s not good.’
I remind myself to stay calm. To do my job. Not to panic.
Koda runs back to me and spins in another tight circle before dashing to the edge, where he plants himself and continues barking. Every few seconds, he glances back, his eyes pleading for me to come and see what he’s found. The sound of his incessant barking spikes my anxiety even further, but reluctantly, I take another step forward.
‘Easy, mate,’ I tell him. ‘I know. Quiet now.’
I say it even though I know there’s no point. I need to let him show me what he’s found. I need to reward him for doing his job.
One more step. Koda moves to the side, and I look over the edge.
