Liv relaxed a little, glad she’d fallen for the bait, though she still didn’t trust Chloe entirely. If Liv could access Hank, she might be able to keep the journalist away long enough to finish the novel. Perhaps she could share her own writing with her, rather than Essie’s. “One step at a time,” she said. “What’s more important to you? Pulling strands together and not knowing if they’re true, or fresh information and an exclusive excerpt? You might also want to think about a new angle for the article, too.”

“Why?”

“Instead of writing something that Essie will hate, why not focus on Georgia Rory?”

Chloe arched an eyebrow. “And why would I do that?”

“Essie saw herself in her heroine,” Liv said. “That’s how she reached out and touched her readers. The fandom for Georgia is huge. If you write about Essie you’ll be using old material, trying to weave snippets together into something threadbare, even if I get quotes from Hank. Why don’t you write about what Georgia means to readers, and why people love her? Talk to her fans and publish their stories. You’ll find more passion and adventure there than anything in Essie’s life over the past ten years. Combined with Hank’s quote and a small excerpt, you’ve got your scoop.”

Chloe eyed her. “Readers still want to know why Essie disappeared from the public eye, hon.”

“But isn’t that part of Essie’s allure and mystery? You really want to spoil that? Sometimes you don’t want a story to end.”

Chloe looked out of the window. The sunlight made her irises look translucent. Liv wasn’t sure what she was thinking.

Eventually, the journalist stuck out a slim hand. “You’ve got a deal.”

Liv stared at it. “How can I trust you?”

“Sometimes, you’ve got to take a chance in life, hon. What’s your alternative?”

If this was a boxing match, Liv might place Chloe at a few points ahead of her. But there were still several rounds to go before a knockout. She wasn’t sure who would win. She stuck out her hand and shook Chloe’s. “Deal,” she said.

Liv took three flights of stairs up to Essie’s apartment. As she entered the writing room, she needed to create some kind of order in her mind and felt the need to clean.

There weren’t any fresh ingredients in Essie’s fridge or kitchen cupboards to mix her own solutions, so Liv grabbed some antibacterial wipes from the store cupboard and set to work.

After she’d finished, the apartment smelled of fake pine trees and she blocked out the thought of Essie shaking her head with disapproval. Liv had more important things on her mind. Like how she could engineer a meeting with Hank Milligan.