Page 23 of Twisted Lies

His observation didn’t surprise her. Fitz was the kind of man who gave the impression he was offering only thirty per cent of his attention and yet he never missed a thing.

‘Is this about your tag along this morning?’

‘It was cut short,’ she said, taking a seat. ‘Active investigation.’

Although there’d been no official announcement from West Midlands Police, the news of an incident at the Hayes Lane Trading Estate was all over the Internet.

‘You make it to the crime scene?’ he asked, giving her his full attention.

‘Ha, I wish,’ she lied. ‘The outer perimeter was the closest I got before Stone dumped me back at the station.’

If she told her boss what she’d seen, it would be the screaming headline. He was a decent man, but he was an editor and it was his job to sell papers. It was an exclusive view that she hadn’t been expecting. There were no sources to check and verify. It was what she’d seen with her own eyes. If she told her story, it would outsell every edition to date this year. It would also destroy any relationship she had with West Mids Police or any other force.

‘You’re telling me you got nothing?’ he asked. ‘I thought you were in there writing up the article right now.’

‘Sorry, Fitz, I saw the outside of a warehouse,’ she said, shrugging.

‘Bloody hell, Frost. You were right there.’

She said nothing. Despite her reputation, she did believe in the public’s right to know but not before family members, and she wasn’t prepared to jeopardise that.

‘You want me to put someone else on it?’ he asked, offering her a mild threat if she didn’t step up and get the story.

‘Actually yes,’ she said, taking the wind out of his sails. That was exactly what she wanted.

‘Fucking hell, Frost, what’s th—?’

‘Tagged along to a quick meeting with the family of Trisha Morley.’

He rolled his eyes before turning towards his computer. ‘Sick of hearing the Morley name. His team is doing a great job of campaigning. Forget a conviction. I can see this guy running for prime minister.’

As a newspaper, they had run no features on the case and had only reported the facts.

‘The family is suffering, Fitz. They can’t compete with his PR machine and, to be fair, they shouldn’t have to. The crime is being forgotten. No one is talking about the fact this man allegedly killed his wife. The family knows that Trisha’s name is being forgotten while he is becoming larger than life.’

Fitz shrugged and continued staring at his screen.

She took a breath. ‘I want to run some articles focusing on Trisha and the crime.’

‘You’re joking?’

She shook her head.

‘You want to be a dinghy in a tsunami?’

‘I want to do what’s right, Fitz. If this guy goes free and we did nothing, we’ll—’

‘It’s a waste of your time and column inches. This isn’t even a story of David and Goliath. You’d be the sand beetle beneath David’s shoe.’

‘Sand beetle?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘Impact wise, yes. Do you know how much money he’s throwing at this?’

‘Absolutely – he’s trying to buy his freedom.’

Fitz began to turn away, and she knew she was losing him.

‘Imagine if it was your daughter, Fitz,’ she said, using her last card. ‘Imagine you’ve watched her being controlled and beaten for years, and then you lose her altogether and there’s nothing you can do to stop her killer getting away with—’