‘Can’t wait to get my hands on you Saturday.’ He chuckled and then the line went dead.

Sunday 28 January 2018

‘Who has access to the internet at home?’ Hicks asks.

‘Me and Ben, my flatmate.’ The additional information seems an overkill considering Ben is here at the station, presumably being interviewed. I’m sure they already know we live together. I need to keep a cool head.

‘Your internet usage seems quite low. On the history of websites visited, there’s some shopping, a bit of porn, but that’s it.’

I roll my eyes. If Hicks is hoping for a reaction he’s not going to get one. I remain silent, waiting for him to get to the point.

‘No streaming or downloading. Hardly any social media. I thought all young people were into that?’ Hicks looks smug, but I’m not going to play into his hands. How old is he? Fifty? Sixty? He looks worn around the edges and the creases in his forehead run deep.

‘Not all young people. I’m not interested in seeing photos of what my friends have had for dinner.’ That amuses him.

‘Would you say you go online a lot? On your mobile or laptop?’ Hicks asks.

I shrug. ‘Not really.’

‘Do you use the internet anywhere else, Eve?’

My jaw clenches ever so slightly before I catch myself. Relax, don’t let him see.

Hicks stares intently, absorbing every movement I make. It’s his job to read people and I am, by my own admission, a terrible liar.

‘Sometimes. At work I did.’ I keep my voice even.

‘There’s also an internet café in town, isn’t there? Baristas I believe it’s called.’

Susie’s coffee shop. I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. My brain is firing, sending signals around my body I’m trying to conceal. I can’t give anything away. Especially now. My search history on that machine would be everything they needed.

‘Have you been in there before?’ he presses.

‘Yes, for coffee.’

‘Have you used the computers in there?’

I know Susie doesn’t have cameras installed, but what if he’s sent someone to see her? Someone armed with a photo of me. She wouldn’t think to lie.

‘I don’t think so,’ I say, frowning as though I’m trying to remember. I’m worried he can hear my heart hammering.

‘I see,’ Hicks responds, shuffling the papers he’s holding. Becker looks redundant, she is yet to speak. Hicks is leading the interview and it unnerves me.

I bob my legs up and down under the desk. Fuck sake, just get to the point.

‘Your phone records have been low too, a few calls to the doctors, work, friends. No more than three or four a day.’

I raise my eyebrows. I know where this is going. Shit. Why didn’t I use another phone?