Steph spent the next hour researching the Elizabeth Sinclair case some more. She phoned a contact she’d had from her days working in Carlisle for a local newspaper after graduating from uni. That placement had been far enough away from her hometown of Kendalton and her mother, to put a reasonable distance between them, so that any visits needed to be prearranged. It was an excuse that had worked for both of them.

Steph looked back fondly at her days with the local rag; despite the lack of action it had been a good starting point, and Adam Baxter had taught her everything he knew and had made the job so much more bearable.

While Adam had been happy to stay with the local paper, Steph had felt the need to explore other opportunities, and when the job with Vacation Staycation had arisen the lure of being based on the south coast tempted her to apply. She had been delighted to be offered the position and, with nothing to keep her in Cumbria, Steph had made the move five years ago. She had meant to keep in touch with Adam when she moved, but phone calls had been replaced by text messages, and over time the messages had become fewer and fewer. Steph wasn’t sure when she’d last been in touch with Adam – two, maybe three years ago?

She searched through her phone contacts, locating her ex-colleague’s name, and hoped he still had the same mobile number. She was in luck. Adam answered almost immediately.

‘OMG! Well, if it isn’t Stephanie Durham herself. What a blast from the past.’

‘Hi, Adam. How are you?’

‘Surprised but oddly pleased to hear from you.’ She could hear him pause as he drew on a cigarette. ‘Now, what do you want?’

‘What makes you think I want anything?’ said Steph, noting how easily they fell back into their old, comfortable ways with each other.

‘Seeing as I haven’t heard so much as a whisper from you in the last three years, call it journalist’s intuition, but I’m guessing you want something from me. Either that or you pocket dialled me and are too embarrassed to hang up.’

Steph gave a laugh. ‘OK, you got me. I pocket dialled.’

‘Bollocks did you,’ said Adam. ‘What is it you want to know?’

Steph dispensed with any further preamble. ‘Elizabeth Sinclair. What do you know about her death?’

‘Elizabeth Sinclair … wait, let me think.’

Steph waited patiently, giving Adam time to raid his memory bank. He had a knack for being able to recall news events as if he had his own database in his head. ‘Do you need a clue?’ she prompted.

‘Nope. Elizabeth Sinclair – I’ve got her now.’

‘Like you didn’t have as soon as I mentioned the name,’ said Steph. ‘You can quit humouring me now.’