‘Not rigorous, Lil. Not by a long shot. I had to go with it, though, but there are too many holes. You just don’t have the experience. I’ve put Daryl Bent on the story. I’m sorry. I told him to call you for some background material.’ She stared at the monitor on her desk, as the late edition of The Brattlebury Register appeared. She fought back her first and second impulses – yell at Fleming and beg him to reconsider – and went with her third option. ‘Mr Fleming, I’m the first to admit I’m new at this. Can you tell me what’s missing?’ ‘You asked more questions than you answered, Lil. People need to go away understanding the story; it’s basic reporting. And where there are holes, you have to fill them with something, and not speculation. When you read it, you’ll see I edited out most of your “unable to say” and “authorities won’t comment”; that stuff has to be done with a light hand. Don’t get me wrong, you had some good stuff, and the pictures of Wally Doyle were tremendous, but after reading your two features, the reader doesn’t know what happened at Nillewaug.
