Adam came back down the ladder and looked across to where I stood in the corner, my arms tightly folded. ‘Tell me again about what happened when you came home. You didn’t notice anything was wrong.’
‘I was distracted. My phone rang.’
‘Who was it?’
‘They hung up. Unknown number. I came in, I put everything down on the table, I went for my phone. And then the bag split and my shopping went everywhere.’
‘So you didn’t realise at first that anything had changed in here. What made you think there was something to find?’
I shook my head.
‘You must have had some reason to check the place over.’
‘I must have, but I don’t know what it was. Instinct, I suppose.’
‘And there’s no chance the mark could have been on the sheet already.’
‘Of course it wasn’t. I would have noticed it when I was making the bed this morning.’
‘Would you?’
‘Yes.’ No equivocation. I knew how I’d left it. I clenched my jaw to stop my teeth from chattering.
Adam was looking at the shopping that was spread across the table. I hadn’t even got around to picking up the tin that had rolled onto the floor.
It was strange, him being in my home, looking at my things. He was wearing a heavy navy jumper, jeans and a North Face jacket that he hadn’t taken off yet; he looked like nothing except an off-duty police officer.
I was aware that he wasn’t officially responsible for my safety, and that I should report the incidents to my local police station, but the thought of starting to explain everything again was impossible, too huge to contemplate. Besides, Adam had pointed out it would take hours for the local response officers to come round, if they came that night at all.
‘I’ll come right now and do a report for them,’ he had said on the phone, and there was something reassuring about how matter-of-fact he sounded.
‘But if you’re busy … and it’s not even your job …’
‘I want to.’ And that had been that.
On the other hand, he had been in the flat for mere minutes and I was already wishing I hadn’t involved him. He was asking the kind of questions that implied he didn’t believe me.
‘How long were you out today?’
‘All day.’
‘Tell me where you went and what you did.’
I cleared my throat. ‘Um – I went out at a quarter to eight this morning. I went to the gym. Then I came back. I got changed. Did my make-up and my hair.’
‘And nothing was different.’
‘No.’
‘Could anyone have been here while you were here?’
‘No.’
‘Did you lock the door when you came back? Could they have got in and hidden while you were here?’
I gestured at the flat. ‘You can see for yourself, there’s nowhere to hide. He must have broken in.’
Adam went across to examine the door. ‘No damage. No broken glass.’
‘So what?’
‘Nothing.’ He turned to look at me, surprise on his face. ‘Just a comment.’
‘I thought – I wasn’t sure if you believed me.’
‘You know as well as I do, it’s not about whether I believe you.’ His voice was gentle, for once, and his kindness brought a lump to my throat. ‘It’s about evidence and being able to prove something happened.’
‘The blood in my bed is evidence.’
He didn’t answer me straight away. ‘It’s something. I think we should get it tested. Find out if it matches any particular person that we have in the system. You’ll need to give a DNA sample so they can rule you out.’
‘It’s not my blood, Adam. I would know if it was my blood, don’t you think?’
‘Just to rule it out.’
‘To rule out the idea that I’m crazy and paranoid. To head off the belief I would set this up just to get attention or to frame John Webster or something.’
‘I don’t think you would. But—’
‘But what?’
Without asking, he moved over to the kitchen and filled the kettle. ‘Where’s the tea?’
‘In the cupboard in front of you.’
‘I want to protect you from that accusation, that’s all.’ He had his back to me, and I wished I could see his face.
‘What I think,’ I said carefully, ‘is that someone wants me to be scared. I think someone wants me to be making a huge fuss about all of this – Belinda, and the scaffolding accident. I think I’ve been taking it all too well. I haven’t been panicked enough. So they’re raising the stakes by breaking in here and showing me I’m not safe anywhere.’
‘You could be right. But then, John Webster isn’t exactly subtle, is he?’
‘I would be much more subtle if I was making it up.’
That got an ironic eyebrow-raise; signs of a sense of humour at last. ‘No one thinks you’re making it up.’
‘What about PC Buswell?’
‘Alison? I don’t know what she thinks.’
That wasn’t as reassuring as he might have intended it to be.
‘Has she made any progress with finding the man from the video?’ I asked.
‘No one recognises him. They’ve been asking the homeless charities about him, as you suggested. He just seems to have disappeared.’ Adam took his phone out of his pocket. ‘Look, do you mind if I give her a quick call to let her know I’m here, and why? I want to keep her in the loop.’
‘On a Saturday night?’
He gave me a sweet smile that I found disarming. ‘You know we’re never really off duty.’
‘I suppose not, or you wouldn’t be here.’
He looked as if he was about to say something but instead he went out, pulling the door closed behind him. I could hear his voice, low and pleasant, but not the words. Those I had to imagine.
Yes, I’m with her … I don’t think it’s anything to worry about … Maybe a bit of exaggeration to get us to listen to her. That’s a real concern for her … No, no evidence of a break-in. Yes, that’s what I thought.
Why did I assume they didn’t believe me?
Because I’d been here before. Police officers liked tangible evidence of serious crimes. The slow and steady chipping away at my safety, at my peace of mind, wasn’t the sort of thing that stood up in court, and that was what mattered.
When he came back I was pouring the boiling water into the mugs.
‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘I’ll finish it. You like it strong, don’t you?’
‘How did you know that?’
There was something in my voice that made him turn around from the kitchen to look at me. ‘When we met last week you were drinking proper builders’ tea.’
I collapsed onto the sofa. ‘Sorry. I’m a bit jumpy when people know things about me.’
‘I’m not surprised.’ He went back to opening drawers, finding the milk, his movements deft.
‘What did PC Buswell say?’
‘She’ll make a note on the file. She’s happy to leave it to me to take a statement from you. I said I’d give you some advice and stay until you were happy for me to go.’
‘Did you?’
That made him turn around again. ‘Unless you want me to go?’
‘No. No, I don’t. I’m glad you’re here.’
‘I’m glad I am too.’
‘So what’s the advice?’
‘You could do with replacing the lock on your front door. The one on the gate outside is decent but I could unlock the one on your door with a card in about three seconds.’ He set the mug in front of me and I leaned forward to gather it up, the heat warming my chilled fingers. I was trembling so much that the tea almost slopped over the side. Adam put his hand on mine to support it, and that made me jump.
‘Steady. You’ll spill it.’
‘Thanks. I don’t know why I’m shaking. I’m so cold.’
‘I’m not surprised. It’s freezing in here.’
I put a hand out to the radiator and discovered it was lukewarm. ‘The heat’s gone off. It doesn’t do much good when it’s on. I love this place but it’s Baltic. Bare bricks and floorboards don’t keep the heat in.’
‘What do you do in really cold weather?’
‘Stay with my boyfriend,’ I said over my shoulder as I leaned into the boiler cupboard, coaxing it into life.
There was a silence. Then, ‘I thought you said you didn’t have one.’
‘I don’t. Last year I acquired one for the winter months to avoid hypothermia. I haven’t got around to it this year yet.’ The boiler began to hum and I turned back to discover he was looking amused. ‘What?’
‘Nothing. Do you want me to check your security in general? See if you need to make any other improvements?’
‘You just want to have a nose around.’ He started to protest and I waved a hand at him. ‘Go ahead. It won’t take you long.’
He moved around the flat as I leaned against the warming radiator and drank my tea and wondered what he made of the way I lived. The windows passed inspection, the door got a firm headshake and a reproachful look in my direction as he waggled the lock.
‘Did you find anything to worry you in there?’ I asked when he emerged from the bathroom.
‘You need a window lock on the skylight. I can recommend a good locksmith for that and the door.’ He was inspecting the bookshelves beside the kitchen.
‘Do you think the books are dangerous?’
He twisted to look at me, sheepish. ‘No. I was just curious.’
‘At least you’re honest about it.’ Almost human, in fact. It made me feel I could be straight with him. ‘The blood is the sort of thing John Webster would do.’
‘It’s his style. That doesn’t mean it’s him.’
‘Who else would it be?’
‘I understand why you don’t want to think there could be someone else out there who wishes you harm, but—’
‘There isn’t. I keep telling you.’
‘No ex-boyfriends? Someone you turned down? Someone who resented being used for their central heating?’
‘That was a joke.’
‘I was joking too.’ He shoved his hands into his pockets, obviously ill at ease.
The untidiness of the flat suddenly seemed intolerable. I roamed around the room, putting away the shopping, finding a vase for the flowers. ‘I don’t know why this is so hard for people to understand. John Webster likes to torment me. He takes his chances when he can. Have you spoken to him about this?’
‘Not personally.’
‘Has anyone?’
‘I don’t know.’ Adam winced. ‘It’s not my case, Ingrid. I’m not entitled to go and ask questions. PC Buswell—’
‘Wants to wind up her investigation. She doesn’t want to get drawn into this. It’s nothing to do with her remit.’ I picked up a blanket and folded it, snapping the ends together. ‘No police officers ever want to investigate this kind of crime. They have to take endless trouble over tiny misdemeanours that take up a huge amount of police time but then all of those misdemeanours don’t add up to a decent charge. And then the victim ends up dead, so the officer who was dealing with the case gets in trouble. I don’t blame you for not wanting to get involved – I don’t want to be involved either. I just don’t have a choice about it.’ I stopped because the prickling sensation in my sinuses was a precursor to uncontrollable sobbing.
‘I didn’t say I don’t want to be involved.’ He came across the room and took the blanket out of my hands, laying it down on the sofa. He put his hands on my arms, just above the elbows, and held me gently. It was surprisingly intimate, I found, and I felt myself blushing. ‘I could walk out of here now if you want me to go. But I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.’
‘Then why won’t you believe me when I tell you it’s Webster?’
‘I don’t want to make any assumptions. I don’t know it’s him yet, and neither do you. I think it’s him, don’t get me wrong, but I have to keep an open mind until there’s some definite evidence.’ He looked down at me, his eyes bright. ‘This could be it, Ingrid. This could be what gets him locked up for a decent stretch.’
‘So what should I do?’
He dropped his hands, back to being the perfect police officer again. ‘Take precautions. Improve your security. Be aware of people around you.’
‘I do most of that anyway.’
‘Get better at it.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘And don’t trust anyone new who comes into your life. He’s good at recruiting people to do his work for him. Don’t let strangers in, don’t talk to anyone you don’t know, don’t agree to any meetings or appointments that you haven’t arranged yourself.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Try to live your life.’
I laughed in spite of myself. ‘While I still can? Great advice, thanks.’
He shook his head. ‘It’s all I’ve got.’