Kathryn swept the remote off the desk, ramping up the volume on the TV as the newsreader filled in the details.
‘… fire crews have rushed to the home of internationally renowned newspaper editor Rawls Baker and we are receiving reports that his body has been found burned to death at the wheel of his car.’
‘Oh my God,’ Liv said. ‘That’s my boss.’
The picture cut to an exterior of a residential street crammed with firetrucks and ambulances. Yellow police tape fluttered in the foreground keeping everyone back, while in the distance firemen, cops and paramedics gathered round the smoking skeleton of a car.
‘Did you phone him?’ Gabriel asked.
Liv nodded.
‘When?’
She shook her head and tried to remember. ‘Earlier today,’ she said.
‘Did you call anyone else?’
She thought hard, running back through the events of the morning. She hadn’t called anyone until she’d got away from the cops. Then she’d called her boss, and …
She looked across at Kathryn. ‘I called you,’ she said.
Gabriel sprang across the floor towards his mother. ‘Give me your phone,’ he said.
She took it from her pocket and handed it to him. He checked the call log. Noted the time of Liv’s call. Held the power key to turn it off and turned to Liv. ‘We need to get out of here,’ he said. ‘Looks like they were not only tracing your phone, they were also tracing your calls. So anyone you’ve spoken to will be in danger.’
Liv looked back at the TV as another photo of Rawls cut on to the screen. It showed him standing in front of the offices of the Inquirer, beaming from ear to ear. She couldn’t believe he was now dead, just because she’d spoken to him. She couldn’t even remember what they’d talked about. Then she looked down, saw the smudged phone number on her hand, and remembered who else she’d called.