‘Is that what has him on edge? He’s been like a bag of cats all day. I’ve been doing my best to keep out of his way.’

She laughs but it’s hollow and there’s something about the way she rubs at her wrist that makes me feel uncomfortable. I try not to stare at it.

I shrug. ‘There’s a lot happening, that’s for sure. And he’ll be under pressure to get the Web clicks rising.’

Jen nods. ‘Never a day off any more. Not that he was ever one to leave the job in the office anyway. He always has to be nosying at something.’

‘He does,’ I say, eager to get past her and see Ryan.

She looks at me for a moment as if frozen and then just as she goes to speak, a beep from my phone tells me someone has sent me a message. Could it be DC Black already? I glance towards my bag.

‘I’m sorry. That’s probably about the story,’ I say.

‘Of course. Sure. Okay. Well, Ryan is in his office if you want to go on through. I assume you know where it is?’

I’m pretty sure it’s a trick question. I’m not supposed to know where his office is. I’m not supposed to be familiar with this house at all.

I shake my head.

‘Top of the stairs, third on the left,’ she says before calling to Ryan in a sing-song voice that is just a little too shrill to let him know he has a visitor. I slip my phone from my pocket and look at the screen.

There’s no attempt at any code back.

Body not in a state for ID. But believe it’s your man.

I nod, feeling strangely satisfied that my instincts were right. The phone beeps again as the message updates.

Foul play suspected.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Ingrid

Ryan is shocked to see me. His confusion, much like Jen’s, is written all over his face.

‘Ingrid?’ he says, looking up from his desk.

I wonder what he’s doing. Is he working? Is he penning some magnum opus of his own? He has mentioned his desire to write a book some day. A memoir of his time in journalism. Something of ‘historical importance’.

‘True crime is popular, of course,’ he has said to me in the past. ‘But I want the book I write to be more a legacy project. Something that will outlive me.’

I never bite when he says something like that. I know it’s born out of jealousy that I’m out there and making a name for myself already.

‘Sorry to interrupt your work,’ I say. ‘I should’ve phoned or texted, but I have a scoop for you that you won’t want to miss.’