‘Two developments,’ Larssen said. ‘The police took various possessions of yours from your house earlier this week, correct?’

‘Yes, loads of our stuff.’

‘Your last mobile phone as well?’

I nodded and took a drink of black coffee. It was strong and hot, an instant caffeine hit on an empty stomach. The caffeine would give me a headache – it always did when I was wound up – but it was the only way to fight the exhaustion of too many nights with too little sleep.

‘Only had that one four days. It was almost brand new.’

‘The Met’s forensic data people have been looking at it.’

‘Forensic data?’

‘The team that analyses phone and computer evidence, the digital footprint a suspect leaves behind. Ten years ago they were focused on child abuse cases, paedophiles, white-collar crime, that kind of thing. But they’re now routinely used in every investigation of serious crime, mobile phone data being so ubiquitous.’

I tried to remember who I might have called or texted on my phone. Ben. Mel. Our home number. A few others maybe. Nothing too suspicious.

‘OK,’ I said.

‘It seems the forensic data chaps are particularly interested in some internet searches they found on your phone.’

A stab of concern in my stomach.

‘What searches? I only got it on Saturday, and they took it away last night. Don’t remember using the browser once.’

‘So you never did a Google search on the legal difference between murder and manslaughter?’

‘No.’

‘The definition in law of a crime of passion, and how a sentence might be reduced for that?’

‘No.’

‘How much blood or saliva is needed to make a DNA comparison? The location of the nearest landfill sites to your house?’

I shook my head, incredulous.

‘They found all of these on my phone?’

‘So it seems.’

‘I didn’t do those searches. There was no reason for me to do them.’

‘Someone did.’

Mel?

But she didn’t know the passcode to unlock my phone. She’d never asked, and I’d never told her. In any case, I’d only had the bloody thing for a few days. The alternative? It had been hacked, by someone who knew computers inside out, someone who lived and breathed computers, someone who knew all the tricks and could bypass the usual security.

Someone like Ben.

‘What about the message that appeared on my home PC on Monday – the threat from Ben? Have they found it?’

Larssen shrugged.

‘Indications are it’s a Trojan virus that was either downloaded intentionally, sent in an email or installed at source. They can’t tell which yet, but it’s recent. There were other viruses on your machine which would have given a remote user the ability to take it over and use it as a “slave” device. It’s not that uncommon.’

‘Can they trace it back to Ben?’