She listens for a few minutes. It sounds good. Really good. It builds well, and she’s delivered a nice balance of emotion and fact. The way Cooper has edited the old news grabs around her narration is masterful. Their back-and-forth format sings, and there’s an undeniable chemistry. It feels original but familiar, his gentle questions leaving plenty of room for her husky answers. The recording only goes for twenty-eight minutes; the other episodes will probably be longer, but Oli can already tell that people will like it. The strangeness of that morning on Paradise Street is conveyed perfectly.

For the first time, Oli wonders what will happen if it really takes off—what it will mean for her status at the office. Uncharacteristic spite churns in her gut: TJ might not be so quick to assume she’ll follow him off a cliff. She thinks back to what he said in the car park. He must have sussed out that Dawn is on the nose with the exec, and now he’s angling for her editor-in-chief role. It makes sense, and if Oli’s honest he would be a good candidate. But she doesn’t want to report to TJ. On the other hand, maybe he was testing her loyalty and reporting back to Joosten—checking to see if she’d throw Dawn under the bus. Or maybe she’s being completely paranoid.

When Oli yanks out her earbuds, she’s slightly startled by the sudden onslaught of noise. All of the school parents look like they’re under a spell, their attention fixed on the pool. She flicks an email to Cooper letting him know she’s happy for the podcast to go to Dawn for final approval.

Breathing slowly in and out, she lets her gaze drift to her satchel. In the car earlier, Amy asked for a drink of water, and Oli muttered that there was a bottle in her bag. ‘I’ll get it!’ she cried hastily, snatching the bag from Amy and throwing it into the passenger seat before Isabelle’s police diaries were exposed. Ridiculous, as if the girls would even know what they are.

Now Oli bends forward and eases out the diary that she’d looked at in the house. She quickly pulls it into her lap and opens it, a pen poised in her hand, then flips to October. Scans words hoping for a clue from the grave.