‘Good morning, DC Boon, I’m Becky Rogers. I take it you’ve come about my article?’

He looked up to see a very attractive young brunette, with permed shoulder-length hair. She was dressed fashionably in a light blue jumpsuit, which had tapered legs and shoulder pads. The tight silver belt she wore showed off her slim, shapely figure.

Boon slowly stood up and shook her hand. ‘Yes. Thank you for seeing me.’

‘The office is quite small, and people are constantly nattering on the phone. We could pop over to Petts Wood Square for a coffee in the café and have a chat there.’

‘That would be good,’ Boon replied.

‘I’ll just nip upstairs and get my jacket, then.’

*

‘That’s a nasty limp you’ve got,’ Becky said as they sat down at a table. ‘What happened?’

‘Football injury . . . nothing serious,’ he said, taking a sip of his coffee. ‘I’m going to be straight with you, Becky. We know who the source was for your article. I understand why you wrote it, but your father should not have released confidential information to you. He’s put himself in a position where he could be disciplined and even dismissed from the force.’

She looked shocked. ‘Is it that serious?’

‘Yes. You were just doing your job, so you’re not in any trouble. But my DCS is not happy. He didn’t want to go to press until we’d identified the body.’

Becky looked concerned. ‘My dad didn’t actually tell me. I overheard him speaking to my mother. I assumed the police were about to release the information when I wrote the article.’

Boon suspected she was lying to protect her father, which was understandable. ‘I’m not here to have a go at you,’ he said. ‘What I need to know is, whether or not you are willing to assist the investigation.’

‘I’ll do whatever I can to help,’ she said.

‘Thanks. Did your article result in any phone calls from the public that might help us with the identification?’

Becky leaned towards him. ‘I’ve only had a couple of calls, both this morning, but it’s early days and I’m hoping for more. One call was just someone being nosy; the other was from a woman who said she’d been an orphan at the convent.’

‘What else did she say?’ Boon asked.

‘I can’t tell you that. I have to protect my sources,’ Becky said.

‘I understand, it’s the same for me as a police officer. Personally, I thought your article was very good,’ Boon said, trying to gain her confidence.

She looked pleased. ‘Thanks. I didn’t want to put the bit in about children being buried at the convent. It was my editor’s idea because he wanted to spice it up a bit.’

‘For what it’s worth, there’s nothing to suggest any children were buried there.’