‘I thought you wanted to talk to me,’ she said, looking up at him over her mug.
‘I said my piece on the phone. I just want you to tread carefully with Diana.’
‘And I will,’ she said quietly. ‘How is she? Honestly? I was freaking out when you said she was on the edge.’
‘She feels angry, duped . . .’
‘I didn’t want to lie to her.’
‘Not with you. With Julian.’ He looked at her cynically.
‘What?’ she said tartly.
He didn’t speak for a few moments. ‘I just think you’re your own worst enemy,’ he said finally.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You had it all. You were on track to being an editor by thirty, weren’t you? Beyond that the sky was your limit; you could have had an editorship in New York, a consultancy for one of the big lobbyists in DC. You threw it all away, and what the hell for? Petty revenge? One-upmanship with your big sister? Believe me, Rachel, when I say that it just isn’t worth it.’
‘You sound like you’re talking from experience.’
He hesitated and a furrow appeared between his brows.
‘I actually had a row with Jules a couple of weeks before he died. A big one. It was about this place, actually. I was adamant I wanted to buy it; Julian said
it was a folly, that I was expanding the group too quickly. We said some nasty things. I didn’t go to their garden party . . .’ The corners of his mouth curled downwards, spoiling his prettiness. ‘I wonder if I’d been there whether I’d have been able to do something, spot that something was wrong.’
‘I think a lot of people have been thinking that.’
‘Some people might not want you around, Rachel, but I do. I want you to find out what happened, and I agree with Di that if there is one person who can do that, it’s you.’
‘I wasn’t expecting a vote of confidence.’
‘What were you in Washington for?’ he asked finally.
She sipped her tea and told him all about Madison Kopek. She told him that the autopsy had revealed that she was pregnant, and that Laura Dale had confirmed that Madison was sleeping with Julian. She asked him about Rheladrex, which he confessed he had never heard of, and told him how Ross McKiney was in Montego Bay trying to trace Julian and Madison’s steps there.
By the end of the story, Adam had definitely paled.
‘So what’s your conclusion? You think Jules killed himself over Madison and the baby, or you’re thinking something else, because you don’t need me to tell you that conspiracy theories have got you into a whole heap of trouble before.’
She knew he was referring to Malcolm McIntyre, and wondered how he knew. It wasn’t a secret why she had got booted off the newspaper – her arrest had been high-profile – but she wondered if he had been keeping tabs on her career.
‘That wasn’t a conspiracy theory. That was my Watergate. I almost nailed him, I had the evidence. It just wasn’t legal.’
‘Illegal evidence might as well be no evidence,’ said Adam harshly.
Rachel didn’t like thinking about it. Malcolm McIntyre was a wealthy businessman, society figure and heavyweight political donor and philanthropist. Rumours that he also had a predilection for young boys had been around for years, whispered in the corridors of power and in the newsrooms around the country. But no one had outed him. He’d been reported to the police many times, but each time the allegations had been dismissed. Several of his victims had stepped forward years after the abuse happened, abuse that had damaged them and made them, in the eyes of the law, unreliable. That he was also incredibly litigious made every editor in the land want to keep him at arm’s length. But not Rachel Miller. She had met one of his victims, Edward, when he had called the Post and offered to sell his story. He was homeless, living in hostels and on the streets. He busked for money, dabbled in drugs, but Rachel had liked him, trusted him.
Edward had met McIntyre in the children’s home where he had grown up, and had been offered work experience in his office, which had led to something much more sinister. His story had made Rachel hot with anger. She didn’t care if McIntyre was litigious. Why should he be allowed to get away with something as heinous as that just because he could afford an army of lawyers? So she’d gone after him. She was senior enough at the newspaper by now to authorise payments to Ross McKiney, who had linked McIntyre to pimps and pornographers, but had done so by hacking into his phone. And so Ross had gone to jail, Rachel had narrowly escaped it, and with pomp and spin and legal threats Malcolm McIntyre had been completely exonerated.
‘Does Diana know about Madison Kopek’s pregnancy?’ asked Adam finally.
‘No. And I’m not going to tell her.’
He nodded in agreement.
‘Do you know the CEO of Denver Chemicals?’