CHAPTER TWELVE
After the district inspector concluded the press conference, many of the journos squirrelled themselves away inside their cars or broadcast trucks, with a few using the latter as windbreaks. They filed their stories, then returned to gossiping among themselves. The more industrious sneakily approached CFA volunteers or witnesses, but if they weren’t brushed off, they were curtly herded back by uniformed cops – often Franklin’s best mates, Scott Hart and Mick Sprague from Daylesford.
Georgie hunted for Franklin and found him talking to a civilian – one of the neighbours, she guessed. When he closed his notepad and the woman trudged off in her muddy gumboots, she joined him.
‘You okay?’
He gave her an odd look and didn’t answer.
‘Anything I can do?’
‘Don’t you need to ph
