‘Never?’ He shakes his head curtly and clamps his lips together in a tight line, as though he might say something he doesn’t want to if he opens his mouth even a little bit.

I need to extricate myself and get home and call the police. Something is very wrong here and I just can’t tell what to believe. I place the coffee cup back down on the table, and focus on keeping my expression open and non-threatening. I glance around the room again, committing it to memory. I feel Anton’s eyes on me and clear my throat.

‘Never.’

‘Okay,’ I say. ‘Thank you for taking the time to talk to me, and to explain your version of events. I clearly haven’t had the full story. The client–therapist relationship is a very unique one. Would you please ask Leah to get in touch with me as soon as she gets home?’ Anton nods. ‘Did she say anything about when she’d come home?’

‘She said she needed to finish something and that she’d most likely come back this weekend.’

‘Okay.’ I’m about to walk out the door when something occurs to me. ‘Oh, hey, Anton, do you happen to know what Leah’s new book is about?’

‘Uh. New book?’

‘The one she’s working on?’

‘Right. No.’

‘Has she not mentioned it to you?’

‘Only very briefly.’

‘Okay. Thank you. Well, I’ll be expecting her call.’ I don’t believe for a second that Leah, a celebrated author who has struggled for over a year with the process of writing her second book, wouldn’t have extensively discussed this with her so-called boyfriend.

Anton nods, and fidgets with the strap of his watch, which has come loose from its leather hoop. I stare at his nimble, strong fingers and wonder if they closed around Leah Iverson’s neck.

When I’ve left the building, I cross the street and can’t resist the urge to turn back around and look at the row of windows on the fourth floor belonging to Leah’s apartment, but when I do, I catch a glimpse of Anton standing there in the middle window, looking straight at me.

17

Kristina

At home, I close the door to the apartment softly, then lean against it. All the lights are off and the hallway is gloomy, deep shadows stretching across the oak floorboards. I slip my boots off, trying to steady my breathing and calm my racing heart after the brisk, cold walk home.