I peer out again. This time he has his phone in his hand. Fuck, he’s going to ring me. My head is about to burst. I pull the zip open on my bag and shove my hand inside. Pulling the cell from my bag, I flick the silent button just as the screen lights up. I think I’m going to puke so I suck in air and lean against the wall, watching Stephen Black’s name flashing on my phone. That was close, very close.

I remain leaning against the wall for a few more minutes, breathing deeply, trying to normalize my body. Then I look out again, hoping, praying.

He is standing at the elevator staring at his phone. He calls me again. My cell lights up again. When he gets no answer he presses the elevator button and waits. I listen for the ping of the doors before I look out again and see him step out of sight. The door closes. He’s gone.

Flopping to the floor, I drop my bag and rest my head in my hands. My body is still shaking. What was he planning to do?

Eventually I pull myself together and go back to Jeff’s apartment. I listen outside for any sound that might tell me he is up, but there is only silence. I consider knocking but decide not to. Jeff stayed up half the night to comfort me. The least I can do is let him sleep in. I wait until I’m sure Stephen Black is well out of the building, then I go to my own apartment to take a shower. When I find the courage I leave and head for the elevator. My nerves are expecting Stephen Black to be standing in front of me when the elevator door opens. But he’s not.

Out on the street, the morning commuters act as camouflage as I slip into the crowd. The precinct is only about fifteen minutes’ walk away, so I zip up my jacket to shield myself from the cold wind that seems to have arrived overnight. Winter is coming.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Detective Turner takes me down the corridor to an interview room. I sit, nerves jangling, at the table opposite her. This room is smaller than the last one. There’s no glass window, no spare chairs, just the table, the recording machine and the knife-edge atmosphere. The white walls do nothing to brighten the darkness of this place. I unbutton my jacket and take a deep breath.

‘Is there something you want to tell me?’ she says, putting her cell on the table.

‘It’s about last Saturday night. My alibi.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘I was with Stephen Black.’

‘Stephen Black,’ she says, just as her phone beeps.

‘Yes. He came back to my apartment after I finished my shift in Mattie’s.’

‘Okay.’ Her attention is still on the phone. She swipes the screen to read her new message.