Dark Waters: The addictive psychological thriller you won’t be able to put down

‘Right. Any chance you can give me a bit of a steer? Would I be wrong in thinking one of the people on the boat is called Derek Daley?’

He narrowed his eyes. ‘I couldn’t say.’

‘Suicide or an accident?’

‘Strange accident, if you ask me. Now, if you would let me do my job—’ He moved away.

Yesss, thought Alex, wanting to punch the air. No denial. Still not confirmed, but almost there. She moved away from the crowd and onto the rough grass lining the Broad, taking out her phone. There was a fluttering in her chest, a gnawing in her stomach. They were feelings she hadn’t had for a long time. She was excited, invigorated, chasing the story.

‘Yes.’ A gruff voice answered. A voice that said I am very busy so this had better be important. A voice that had the capacity to make even the most hardened hack turn pale if they didn’t know him. Bud Evans, the news editor of The Post and her previous boss. But he had been more than a boss. He had picked her up more than once when her life was falling apart, had been her mentor, had given her work and who had introduced her to the features editor of The Post when she had announced she wanted to return to live in Sole Bay. She owed him.

‘Bud, it’s me, Alex Devlin.’

‘Ah, Alex.’ His voice was slightly friendlier, about as friendly as it would get. And, of course, no small talk.

‘I won’t waste time—’

‘Good.’ She heard him vape.

‘I’m at Dillingham Broad, in Norfolk—’

‘Back of beyond. Godforsaken.’

‘Maybe, but listen. Two bodies have been found on a boat.’

‘And?’ He sounded almost bored.

‘It may have been suicide or an accident, but the point is one of the people who died is Derek Daley.’ She almost felt him sit up and begin to listen to her.

‘Daley, dead.’ Interest in his voice. ‘Sod’s definitely got what he deserved.’

‘Bud.’

‘What? Don’t speak ill of the dead?’ He laughed. ‘Come on, he was a rival. And a nasty piece of work. Are you sure it’s him?’

Alex wasn’t surprised at the careless way Bud was taking the death of someone in the industry. It was well known within The Post that Bud had little or no time for Derek Daley. Although Bud was known and admired as news editor of the paper, he was more than that – he actually owned The Lewes Press Group, of which The Post was a part. But he didn’t flaunt his success like Daley. He didn’t go to media parties, didn’t have fluffy magazine articles written about him, and if someone tried to take a photo of him, he would turn the other way. He gave money to children’s homes, but that was as far as he went. No, Bud Evans was an old-fashioned newspaper man with a flair for business, and that’s where it stopped.

‘Not totally confirmed yet, but there’s enough to get a flash ready for the website and something for the morning. I could even do you a colour piece if you want.’ She held her breath, realizing she really wanted this.

‘No, don’t worry about that. I’ll get someone onto it ASAP. Send someone to confirm and pick up any other strands.’

‘Oh.’ Alex was deflated. ‘Bud—’

‘Yes?’

‘I’d really like to do this.’

‘Why?’

‘Why not? I can write a story, you know that. I’m here, on the spot. Surely it would be a good idea if I at least got it started?’

More vaping.

‘Get some colour. We’ll prepare the flash here. Has PA arrived?’

Alex looked around to see if she could see Jon Welch from the Press Association, but there was no sign of him. He was probably in court somewhere. ‘No, I can’t see him yet.’

‘Right. Do me a one par story that can go when you get final confirmation, and then write me a colour piece. Email ASAP. I don’t want to see it on the wires. I want it in The Post first. And let me know when the press conference happens. If we hear about it first, I’ll let you know.’

Alex sat down on the grass, first making sure she wasn’t about to get duck droppings over her skirt. It was a bit damp, but what the hell. She was fizzing. She opened up a new email on her phone and began to type.

The one paragraph stating the bare facts was easy, and she had it written and sent over in a matter of minutes. The colour piece was more challenging. How to convey what was going on around her without sounding over the top and sensationalist.

‘Dillingham Broad,’ she wrote, ‘is at once peaceful and beautiful.’

Rubbish.

‘The peace of a beautiful part of Norfolk has been shattered by—’

Hmm. Not great, but she could build on it.

Ten minutes and one throbbing finger later and she had two hundred and fifty words that she hoped captured the essence of what was happening across the water. She checked the signal and pressed send.

As she stood and stretched her legs she saw a familiar face with a cloud of auburn hair standing by a Mini at the edge of the parking area. It was her friend, Lin Meadows.

‘Lin!’ she called, hurrying over to her. ‘How great to see you.’

Lin looked up, the frown on her face dissolving when she saw Alex. ‘What are you doing here?’

Alex grinned. ‘Doing a bit of old-fashioned reporting for my old-fashioned news editor.’

Lin looked at her, obviously puzzled.

‘A couple of men have been found dead on a boat out there, on the other side of the water. Look. You can see forensics walking around.’

‘Ah, that’s what’s going on.’ She pulled a face. ‘Gross. So what’s with the reporting?’

‘I heard about the bodies on the radio, and I was nearby, so I thought I’d come and see what was going on. Then I rang Bud – I worked for him when I lived in London and he gave me my first job – and he wanted me to look into it—’ She stopped. Lin was laughing at her. ‘What is it?’

Lin gave her a hug. ‘For a start, Bud? Sounds like someone from an American B movie. And for another thing, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this energized.’

Alex drew back. ‘Really?’

‘No, you look as though you’re enjoying yourself.’

‘I suppose I am,’ said Alex, realizing she meant it. ‘But I’m only doing it until the reporter from London turns up.’

‘What?’ Lin looked indignant on Alex’s behalf. ‘You don’t mind being someone else’s bitch?’