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Olivia had sent a series of messages saying ‘we need a chat’, but the tone was clear: Lara’s presence was required and she knew from long experience that it was futile to resist.
There was a long, pregnant pause.
‘You do know we can quit,’ said Stefan.
‘Quit the investigation?’ said Lara incredulously. ‘We – I – need to do this, Stefan. Sandrine would have wanted us to finish the story.’
Stefan nodded.
‘Sandrine wouldn’t want you to be in any danger.’
His voice was hard and he put down his fork to look at her.
‘I do have some experience of this, Lara. Too much, in fact. I never told you why I became a journalist. It was because my mum’s sister Fredja disappeared.’
That got Lara’s attention.
‘Disappeared? What happened?’
‘No one knows for sure. Nobody was ever found, no trace at all in fact. My mum never recovered; it was the not knowing that ate away at her. That was why we moved to the Frisian Islands, so she could try and forget about
it. But she never did get over it.’
Lara had liked Stefan from the start. He was passionate, good-looking and smart, but now she felt connected to him on an even deeper level.
She knew only too well what it was like to have questions that couldn’t be answered. She could still remember the memorial service for her parents, the quiet of the chapel, the grim faces of their family and friends. There were no coffins, no closure, no gravestone to lay flowers at. Just a big question mark hanging in the air.
‘That’s what drove me to become a journalist,’ continued Stefan. ‘My mother was hardly wild about the idea. But when she realised she couldn’t stop me, she made me promise that if I ever felt out of my depth, if I knew things were getting dangerous, I had to stop.’
‘And would you?’
There was a note of challenge in her voice that Lara immediately regretted.
‘I have,’ said Stefan. ‘I did.’
He looked away, gathering his thoughts.
‘I worked in Cologne for a few months. I was investigating an extremist gang and a series of dead bodies I thought were connected. It was a big story. I wanted to prove myself, but I pushed it too far, got myself into a really dangerous situation.’
‘What happened?’
‘I’d arranged to meet a contact at a biker bar. It was really rough, a really bad part of town – and hey, guess what? It was a trap. I had a knife held to my throat. They told me exactly what they would do if I didn’t back off.’
He took an uneven breath, then met her gaze.
‘Lara, I was twenty-six years old. I loved my job but I didn’t want to die over it. So, yes. I stopped, pulled back – and you know what? I have no regrets. My mum had enough heartache in her life without losing a son too. And I figured I could do more good alive than dead.’
He looked at her.
‘You’re judging me.’
Lara shook her head slowly.
‘No. I’m thinking I would have done the same thing.’
‘So why don’t you stop now? If Eduardo wants to carry on, that’s his choice, but he’s not the one who had his house burgled or his cat murdered. He’s not the one looking over his shoulder every two minutes.’
Lara closed her eyes. She had been telling the truth; if she had been in Stefan’s shoes, she would have backed off too. But this was different, this wasn’t just about a splashy headline or a press award, this was about Sandrine, a woman she had loved as a sister. She wasn’t prepared to let someone – anyone – scare her off and she was committed now, all the way. But she loved the way Stefan had opened up to her. And she loved the way he had trusted her because he cared.
