Right now, I feel the whole world is sitting on my shoulder, its weight threatening to break me. Turner is going to think I’m lying, that I’m inventing the alibi. She’s bound to believe Stephen Black over me. I would if I was in her shoes. With this nightmare scenario spinning around in my head, it feels like the room is closing in. I have to get out of here, I have to get out of everywhere.

‘Are you okay? Becca?’ Jeff moves around to my side of the counter. ‘You’ve gone a funny shade of green.’ He stands in front of me, but all I can see is a blur.

‘Becca? Becca…’

When I come to, I’m lying on Jeff’s sofa with a damp cloth on my forehead, Jeff sitting by my side.

‘Jesus, Becca, I was about to call an ambulance.’

My body feels numb, so I wiggle my toes and fingers.

‘I’m okay. Sorry about that, I couldn’t help myself.’

‘No need to apologize, it’s not your fault you checked out. Are you okay now?’

‘I’m fine, I think.’

‘Right, stay there for a while and rest up.’

Taking the cloth from my forehead, he gets up, leaving me to close my eyes and fall into a deep sleep.

The music is what wakes me. Jeff is sitting on the floor with his back resting against the sofa, with his guitar, his precious friend, in his hands. I pull myself up into a sitting position and rub my eyes but Jeff continues to strum his guitar, singing, ‘If you think this is bad you should hear your snoring.’

‘What time is it?’ I say, my eyes searching the room for my jacket. I need to check my cell. Jeff picks my phone from the floor and hands it to me.

‘Did she ring?’

‘Not yet.’

‘What if she doesn’t believe me, Jeff? What if she believes Black instead and I look like I’m making up an alibi?’

‘You don’t need to worry about him, Becca. He can deny it all he likes, I saw him leave the building.’ Jeff says, winking.

‘But what if he comes after me, calls at my apartment?’

‘Well, don’t be there.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Stay here tonight.’

I don’t know how to read this. Is Jeff suggesting I sleep with him?

‘Don’t worry, Becca. I’m not coming on to you.’ He stands up and slips his guitar back into its case. With his back to me says, ‘You’re not my type.’

I’m silenced, left with my mouth open. Why am I not Jeff’s type?

‘You can stay in my sister’s room,’ he says, pushing open the door to the second bedroom.

Chapter Twenty-One