‘It’s funny, you know,’ TJ says, ‘but even though I know the headlines, I can’t for the life of me remember the details of the Housemate story. I guess I was up to my ears in the Carter kidnapping and just never touched it.’ A little smile plays on his lips. ‘I do remember good old Jo riding your arse something chronic, though. God, she was a slavedriver.’

Oli is keen to change the subject. ‘Do you reckon O’Brien will get off today?’

TJ makes a face. ‘Probably. The guy’s a piece of shit, but he’s a clever piece of shit. He covered his tracks pretty well, and there’re still a lot of people barracking for him.’

Oli sighs. ‘God, it’s depressing. Dean reckons he was always a total creep.’

‘I know. No matter what the ruling is, I’m hoping his wife will still talk to me. I’ve been working her for weeks, and I think she’s ready. She’s been staying at a hotel since July, you know. I doubt she’ll stand by him now, not after yesterday’s statements. It’s too humiliating.’ He grins. ‘Getting her on the record will be pure gold. She might offer up stuff that hasn’t come out yet.’

A feeling flares in Oli, the kind she occasionally gets when she talks to TJ. The sense that she’ll never be as good as he is because she lacks the wiring that makes him the ultimate journalist: the ability to shut off all emotion, to work a story like a robot.

Dawn barrels out of her office and stalks toward the news desk.

‘I better go.’ Oli shuffles out of her boss’s line of sight. ‘I need to find this Cooper kid. Hopefully he can actually take a decent photo.’

TJ laughs. ‘It sounds like he’s a slight upgrade from a work experience intern.’ He runs his hand through his hair.

She steps past him. ‘Well, good luck out there.’ It’s what they always say to each other.

‘You too.’ He narrows his eyes. ‘Hey, didn’t Dean’s wife lead the Housemate Homicide case? I’m sure she did.’

Oli remembers the haughty flick of Isabelle’s ponytail, the burn of her gaze. The younger version of herself kissing Dean outside her apartment in a taxi and stumbling around the city trying to crack a story. So desperate to prove herself.

She lifts her shoulders as casually as possible, relieved TJ can’t see the flush creeping up the front of her neck. ‘Yes, I think she might have.’

Three Christmases ago, the newspaper’s digital department moved from the ground floor to level three, joining the sales department while leapfrogging news and editorial on level two.