The footage jumped to him re-entering the room and climbing slowly into bed. He found reading glasses and flicked through an old paperback for a few minutes before placing the open book on the covers, removing his glasses and turning the light off. The camera switched to low-light mode with the bedside lamp off, but there was nothing to see, just an old man asleep in his bed. Hannah imagined him getting up and sleepwalking, or a jump-scare from a horror movie, the face of a terrible demon screaming into the camera lens, or the pale shadow of a ghost standing at the foot of the bed pointing at Jacob.

But instead the footage just clicked forwards on the time stamp to a few hours later, Jacob rising to visit the bathroom, then returning and settling in again. Then another jump, another visit to the toilet, another return, then it was morning and Jacob was waking up.

God, this was boring.

She went to check the other cameras for the same period through the night. She presumed Dorothy hadn’t looked at any of them yet, there was no note of it in the file where they logged what they’d watched.

She opened a file for the kitchen-cam, the one that started at midnight.266

And almost fell off her chair.

A young woman walked calmly into the kitchen, went to the fridge and started making a sandwich. She pulled a bottle of red wine from a rack and unscrewed it, getting a glass from the cupboard. She knew her way around.

Hannah gazed at the screen as if it was the best movie she’d ever seen.

The woman was wearing joggers and a loose T-shirt, but she had her back to the camera while she spread butter on bread, added cheese and ham, put it all together. She had blonde hair, long with a fringe.

Hannah checked the file on Susan Raymond that she’d put together for Dorothy. It wasn’t her, totally different body shape and hair colour. Then she went online, searched for Monika Belenko and Home Angels, came up with a Facebook profile of a glamorous young woman. The hair colour was right, but the wrong style. Maybe she’d had the fringe cut recently.

The woman cleared her sandwich stuff back into the fridge and left the room.

Hannah clicked on another file, opened it, and there was the woman in the living room, the television on a comedy channel. She was playing with an iPad, sitting on the sofa, eating the sandwich and sipping her wine. The glow of the iPad lit her face a little better, and she didn’t look much like the Facebook profile, but Hannah wasn’t sure. And anyway, if it was the cleaner, what the hell was she doing in the house in the middle of the night?