Any lingering doubt on that connection had then been erased by Sarah’s call to Michael.

Once the Blunt story merged with the Longman story, Redwood’s involvement was at an end. Sarah was the senior correspondent. That alone gave her precedence. She was also the more talented of the two reporters. The more well known. And by far James Elton’s preference.

There was only going to be one winner.

Nathan Benson had remained in the outside broadcast van. Sarah had not.

She lacked Redwood’s local resources. His informants within the local police. Sarah did not know how he had built those relationships. Bribes, perhaps. Or charm; he was a very good-looking man, Sarah had to acknowledge. And he was charismatic. At least until his true self broke through the veneer. It didn’t matter either way.

If Sarah was going to get more information, she would need to make some friends.

The local press were already on the scene. Television news and print media. Ten reporters, maybe more. Sarah did not count. They were huddled together outside of the police cordon. All were obviously well known to one another. And all were no doubt wondering why the national press – Sarah Truman, no less – had taken an interest in a local death.

Sarah approached the group, smiling broadly. Once again felt the ‘us and them’ divide. Once again she ignored it.

‘Perfect day for the beach, huh?’

The weather, Sarah thought. Guaranteed to get the Brits talking.

‘Too hot to be standing around here all day.’

The answer came from the closest reporter. A middle-aged man, slim and dressed for the cameras.

The main man around here, Sarah’s instincts told her.

‘Totally.’ Sarah slipped in an Americanism. One she never used. Designed to lower the local defences. ‘How long have you guys been here?’

‘Since 10 a.m., some of us.’

The answer came from a much younger man. Barely in his twenties, his unironed shirt and stained jeans indicated a newspaper reporter. Certainly not the clothes he would wear on-screen.

‘And I guess you’re one of the early risers, huh?’ Sarah turned her full attention onto the youngster and smiled wide. ‘Any news from inside since then?’

‘Not much,’ the print cub replied. ‘We know it’s a murder, obviously. And a few police have let it slip that it’s a bad one. But not a lot else.’

Sarah listened. She kept her smile throughout, then scanned the rest of the press when the youngster had finished speaking. The faces that looked back at her were now a little more open. More welcoming. None showed any disagreement with the young reporter’s assessment. It confirmed Sarah’s suspicions.

Redwood’s police source was not shared by others.

‘So no details released about the way this guy died?’

Sarah knew the details already, but it was the natural question. The others would wonder had she not asked it.

‘As Tony said, just that it’s real nasty.’ The answer came from the group leader. The middle-aged guy from local TV. Sarah turned back to him. ‘Not suitable for early evening news, anyway.’