‘If it’s the press conference, every news agency in the North is already running with that and I can’t help but notice it’s not uploaded onto our site.’

He looks up at me. He needs a shave; stubby grey spikes of hair line the wrinkles on his face. Out of his usual shirt and tie, wearing a sweater and jeans, he looks old. Of course I know that I’m a good twenty years younger than he is, but what once looked mature and inviting to me now just looks tired.

I shake my head. ‘There was nothing in that press conference that wasn’t already out there. I was busy chasing something juicier.’

He sits back in his chair, crosses his arms and raises one eyebrow. ‘Go on,’ he says.

‘There’s been a body discovered on the tracks between Portstewart and Coleraine,’ I begin.

‘Yes. I’ve seen the release. I’ve even put it up on the site. Because that is what a conscientious journalist would do,’ he says, his tone derisory. ‘I did tell you if you weren’t feeling up to working, I’d get Tommy to fill in.’

‘Ryan,’ I say, perching on the side of his desk. ‘Stop it. I am up to the job. I’ve been doing the job. I happen to know Jamesy Harte went missing last night. From his home. Which, as I told you, is in Portstewart.’

Now he’s interested. He pauses, regards me from his chair.

‘That doesn’t mean …’ he begins.

I imagine he’s afraid to believe he has such a story in his reach.

‘No, it doesn’t. But I have it from a source that they believe it could well be Harte and, furthermore, foul play is suspected.’

‘Fuck!’ Ryan exhales through his teeth. ‘And your source? Who is it? How rock solid are they?’

‘You know better than to ask who my source is. But I can tell you they’ve never led me down the wrong road before,’ I say.

He walks to the window of his office, his hands thrust deep in the pockets of his jeans, and back again. He is clearly thinking about what to do next.

‘What’s the thinking? Someone close to Doherty took revenge? Someone in Portstewart realised who he was and what he’d done? This is messy, Ingrid.’

‘I don’t know what the story is,’ I say. ‘I’ve only just heard about his body. But given what happened to Liam Doherty last night … and witnesses said they heard Harte leaving his bedsit in the small hours and getting into a car. His phone, wallet, keys – that sort of thing – were all left behind.’

‘And we have the last ever interview with him,’ Ryan says, his eyes wide with excitement. ‘This is some scoop for us.’

I bristle. This is not how this is going to work. ‘Us?’ I say.