Caelan hammered on the door with her fist, counted to three and hammered again. Eventually it opened a few inches and a man’s face appeared in the gap. He stared at them, frowning.
‘Any reason you’re trying to batter the front door down?’
‘We’re here to see Tom Haslam,’ Caelan told him. ‘Is he in?’
‘Tom?’ He glanced behind him. ‘No idea. We don’t keep tabs on each other.’
‘Yeah?’ Caelan sneered at him. ‘Well maybe you should.’
The man shook his head and started to close the door. Ewan stepped forward, stuck his foot in the gap.
‘Listen, mate, we want to talk to Tom. We met him earlier.’
‘You can’t just walk in here.’ The man was glaring now, but Caelan could see he was rattled. He wasn’t much taller than she was, five eight or so. He looked up at Ewan and she knew he was going to give in. ‘You just want to talk to him?’
Ewan held up his hands. ‘Scout’s honour.’
Caelan decided to take a chance. ‘It’s about Lucy Mulligan. She’s my cousin.’
The man’s face cleared. ‘You’re the people looking for Lucy? Tom was babbling about it, but I didn’t take much notice. He’s’ – he looked over his shoulder again – ‘kind of…’ His voice trailed off.
‘Obsessed with Lucy?’ Caelan finished for him. He nodded, clearly relieved.
‘You already know. Yeah, it was obvious when she first moved in that he liked her, but he’s got weirder and weirder about it.’ He opened the door fully and held out his hand. ‘Joel Kingsley.’
Caelan shook it briefly. ‘Is Tom upstairs?’
‘He was ten minutes ago. I went up to the bathroom and he came out of his room, going on about Lucy’s cousin turning up.’
‘And he hasn’t left?’
Kingsley shook his head. ‘But then I’ve been cooking, listening to a podcast. I might not have heard him.’
Caelan and Ewan exchanged a glance. ‘Which room?’
‘You know which is Lucy’s? Tom’s across the landing.’
They approached quietly. Lucy’s door was closed, the tape the police had left behind still sealing it, but Haslam’s was ajar. Again Caelan met Ewan’s eyes. There was no reason for them to believe Haslam to be in danger and no sign so far that he was, but she held up a hand and they approached cautiously all the same. Caelan stood to the side of the door and tapped softly.
‘Tom?’
No reply. She tried again.
‘Tom, it’s Victoria Smith. We met earlier?’
Still nothing. No sound, no movement. Caelan swallowed.
‘Why isn’t he answering? He should be in there,’ Joel Kingsley said from behind them, concern clear in his voice.
Caelan wrapped her sleeve around her fingers and pushed the door open, then eased herself around it so she could see into the room.
A double bed with navy-blue sheets, the duvet neatly arranged, the pillows plumped. A desk, its surface empty except for a laptop computer, a chair tucked neatly beneath it. A bookcase, the books arranged by size. A chest of drawers with a TV and DVD player on top. Caelan moved further inside. The place was as bare and impersonal as a hotel room. No photographs, no clothes thrown on the chair, no shoes kicked off in the corner.
‘He’s not here.’ She beckoned Ewan inside. ‘What do you think?’
He looked around, raising his eyebrows. ‘Looks like somewhere a serial killer would sleep.’
Kingsley was in the doorway, and Caelan turned to him.
‘Have you been in here before?’
He shook his head, his eyes wide.
‘You can’t tell us if there’s anything missing?’
‘Except for Tom? Not a clue.’
‘He’s probably just gone to the corner shop.’
Kingsley nodded, backing out of the room. Caelan went over to the desk and opened the laptop, her movements made awkward by the sleeves still over her hands. She pressed the button to power the computer up, but it didn’t respond. She closed the lid, turned away.
‘No doubt password-protected anyway,’ she said as she reached for the desk drawer. There was no way of locking it, and it slid open easily.
‘Shit.’
She stared down at a wallet, an Oyster card and a mobile phone.