“No one will talk to me,” she said. “I just tried to interview the plant manager, but he said he can’t talk to reporters, and I noticed you walking over here.”

“He can’t. It’s nothing personal-mineral water is an extremely competitive business, and we have to watch ourselves.”

“Oh. That’s what he said.” She licked her lips, looking awkward, which, Dani had come to discover, was unusual in a reporter. “Would you mind…I know this is short notice…could you answer a couple of questions? I’ve done my homework. I’ve read everything I can find on you, your family, the estate-I won’t ask you questions you’ve been asked a million times before.”

Dani squinted up at her. “I won’t talk about my mother.”

“Oh, I assumed that. You never have-and it’s old news.” She blushed. “I’m sorry-I didn’t mean to sound callous.”

“It’s okay. What’s your name?”

“Heather. Heather Carey.”

“You could use a break?”

“I sure could. My boss says I’m not aggressive enough.”

She wasn’t, but sometimes aggression wasn’t what got the story.

Dani knew she wasn’t dressed for an interview. And she wasn’t prepared. She hadn’t gone over possible questions and answers with her staff. She hadn’t gotten their advice, their consent.

Heather Carey had climbed down to the flat rock. She was small, thin, no more than twenty-five. “That’s an interesting necklace.”

Dani glanced down at the two keys. They were heavy for a necklace, and it had been stupid to wear them rock climbing. But how could she resist? “Have a seat.”

“No kidding?”

“No kidding.”

Clearly Heather Carey didn’t believe her luck.

Ninety minutes later Dani arrived back at her cottage with no regrets. Before she showered-before she called her PR people and confessed what she’d done-she dug out a pen and a sheet of Pembroke Springs stationery.