Tremors rocked Leanne’s body. ‘People died,’ she reminded him. ‘Innocent people who would have been terrified at the end. They knew they were trapped. They couldn’t breathe, and they knew they were going to die. What must that have felt like, Mal?’ The answer came not with words, but with the tightening of her chest and a constriction in her throat. ‘Do you think maybe, just maybe, they thought about us in their last moments? Did they wonder how we’d carry on? At the very least, they would have expected us to make the bastards pay for what they did!’

‘They would have thought about their loved ones,’ Mal agreed. He took a step closer. ‘Lois would have thought about her best friend, and how she was going to cope without her.’

‘Don’t,’ Leanne begged, her words coming out as a gasp.

‘She would want you to search for the truth, whatever that looked like,’ Mal said. ‘I don’t think she’d want revenge for its own sake, but then again, I never knew her. You did. What would she want, Leanne?’

Leanne’s eyes darted around the home she had once shared with her best friend. She had bought the boat, but it was Lois who had made it their home. And even though Lois was planning to move in with Joe, she had considered Leanne in her plans. She had promised faithfully that she wouldn’t leave until everything was shipshape. She wasn’t going to suddenly disappear.

Leanne’s heart clenched. She was dead. Lois was dead, and if it wasn’t Phillipa’s fault, who could she blame? Joe? Herself? Unable to go there, Leanne let out a cry that became muffled as Mal pulled her into a bear hug.

‘What would Lois want?’ he repeated.

Leanne’s legs wobbled from the sheer energy it took not to let the tears flow. Now was not the time. She dropped onto the futon and Mal sat down next to her. She took a breath and puffed out her cheeks as she released the air slowly, bringing her heart rate down so it wasn’t thumping so hard against her ribcage. ‘She’d want me to stop torturing myself. She’d expect me to find a happy ending,’ she said, glancing at the unfinished painting of the slippery, golden fish that her friend would never complete.

‘Happy endings are for fairy tales.’

‘That was Lois,’ Leanne said, attempting a smile.

Mal stretched the muscles in his neck. She could imagine he’d been dreading this conversation, but Leanne appreciated his efforts to come and tell her personally.

‘I’m going to send you the report,’ he said. ‘Read it with an open mind. You won’t be the only one who’s going to find it difficult, and our job is to guide our readers towards acceptance.’

‘You want me to write it up?’