Free Broadchurch by Erin Kelly, Chris Chibnall Page B

home. ‘These are all your friends .’ The couple look at her like lost children, like the teen parents they used to be. Ellie is reminded for the first time in years that Beth is still only thirty.
    ‘We know,’ they say.
    Ellie is almost grateful when SOCO Brian calls her out of the room. Upstairs, he hands over an evidence bag.
    ‘Five hundred pounds in cash. Taped to the underside of the bed frame in Danny’s room.’

13
    Karen asked Olly to show her the sights and he’s given her a bird’s-eye view. This clifftop bench is the perfect place for her to get her bearings. Down below, it’s easy to see how the quaint, touristy part of town near the harbour gives way to a cluster of ugly municipal buildings that lower into the sprawl of the estate. The sea stretches before them. And then of course there are the cliffs, the steep mute witnesses to Danny Latimer’s murder. They are mesmerising, with that unearthly golden colour. It’s an effort for Karen to draw her eyes away from them and look at Olly.
    ‘Tell me about Broadchurch,’ she asks him. ‘Who lives here?’
    He ponders. ‘Lot’ve been here all their lives, generations, some of them have never been fifty miles outside town. Then there’s the incomers. Young families, left cities when they had babies, came here ’cause they fancied the schools and the sea. We get tourists for six weeks in the summer, but we’re a working town mainly.’
    ‘Crime?’
    ‘Mostly thefts from lock-ups, odd bit of drug use, drink driving.’ Karen can’t hide her smirk in time. ‘Seriously. I do the weekly crime report in the paper with one of the uniforms. About thirty offences a week, pretty much all minor. We’ve never had a murder.’ His expression turns grave.
    ‘And that’s the sort of story you do at the Echo ?’
    He shrugs. ‘Clubs, schools, council meetings. Maggie says we celebrate the everyday.’ Karen shudders internally. She wouldn’t work on a regional for a hundred grand a year. Mind you, Olly will be lucky to earn a tenth of that. She wonders if he still lives with his mum. Then she finds herself wondering what his bedroom looks like.
    ‘What about you?’ she asks. ‘What do you want?’
    Olly looks bashful for a moment. ‘Work on a national. I want to be you, basically.’
    ‘Careful what you wish for.’ She smiles.
    ‘How come you were here so quick?’
    It still isn’t time to let him know about her one-woman mission to find out where Alec Hardy has been or how he got here. She deploys distraction.
    ‘ If I report on this, I need to understand the town, the people. You help me with that, I might be able to help you. What d’you think?’
    Olly beams. ‘I think, good.’ Karen notices his white, even teeth. It will be no hardship spending time with this one.
     
    Ellie Miller takes a breather, going for a slow walk along the seafront. It’s a glorious day but there are only a handful of people out. It looks bare without its usual milling crowd of kids and without the cover of chatter, the gulls and waves seem exaggeratedly loud, like someone’s turned up the volume on a soundtrack of seaside noises. The few children around are hand in hand with their parents, even the older ones. She can’t see anyone local letting their kids out alone for a long time. Tom’s old carefree life of coming and going as he pleases is on hold until this case is solved.
    Something catches Ellie’s eye and she looks up at the bench on the hillside. A young woman in expensive-looking clothes and inappropriate shoes is picking her way down the sandy path. Ellie does a double take to see Olly up on the bench, mooning after the woman. She climbs the hill to join him.
    ‘Who’s your new friend?’ asks Ellie, sitting down heavily next to him. Sweat dampens her hairline.
    ‘She’s a colleague,’ says Olly importantly. ‘A reporter from the Herald . I’m helping her get a feel for the town, give her a bit of local colour. She reckons the story won’t