Leanne wasn’t expecting any calls, but it was impossible not to raise her hopes. It had taken some perseverance, but she had managed to obtain Karin Gallagher’s mobile number from a contact who had worked with her at the Bridgewater Inn. The pub was close to the centre of Sedgefield and, although it wasn’t quite within staggering distance, Leanne and Lois had been regulars. She didn’t recall ever seeing Karin in there and, now that Declan’s sister had resigned as assistant manager, she never would. Speaking to her at all was proving to be another impossibility. Karin had so far ignored all five of Leanne’s voicemails, but there was always a chance the reporter had worn her down.

Unzipping the awning that covered the stern, Leanne climbed aboard, but she didn’t unlock the hatch straight away. She took out her phone and, as it lit up the darkened ante space, Mal’s name glowered at her. She had sent him updates throughout the day, including a report on a crash that had caused a five-mile tailback along the bypass, but she doubted he was phoning to thank her.

‘Where’s the piece on Claudia Rothwell? It was due two hours ago.’

‘I’ve been out all day. It’s only Wednesday, there’s still time.’

‘I don’t pay you to choose your own deadlines. I want it on my desk by ten at the latest tomorrow morning. If you have plans tonight, cancel them.’

Leanne never had plans, that wasn’t the problem. ‘Fine, you’ll get it.’

‘Look, if you’re not up to this, say now and I’ll assign it to someone else. You can always work on our advertisement features.’

Leanne couldn’t tell from his tone if this was tough love from her mentor, or a real threat. She didn’t want to risk finding out.

‘It’s not that hard, Leanne. I’ve seen the press release Claudia sent through. She’s practically written it for you.’

‘There’s a bit more to the story than the plans for the memorial,’ Leanne said. She couldn’t avoid telling him any longer. ‘It turns out there was a victim of the Empress fire that no one knows about.’

‘What does that mean?’ asked Mal. There was an edge to his voice. He was good at sniffing out a story and had picked up the scent.

‘Claudia was pregnant. She stayed by the exit to make sure people got out OK, but she suffered the effects of smoke inhalation and it led to a miscarriage.’

Mal didn’t respond immediately, and Leanne used the time to unlock the hatch and open the cabin doors. She left her shopping on the steel footplate, so she had one hand free to steady herself as she climbed down a short set of wooden steps into the living space.

‘We need to get this story published,’ Mal said at last.