There’s something familiar about the room he is showing me. A night-vision lounge room. There’s a watermark in the corner of the footage: a small outline of a house with an eye in the centre. Then a flare of light, the camera adjusts, and the scene is thrown into colour. A plunge in my stomach, my gaze leaves the screen, bolts to the man’s green eyes again. I take in the shape of him, the bulging shoulders. It is him. It has to be. Why else would I be looking at the house where Daniel took me? I look back to the screen as fresh sparks of adrenaline crackle up my spine. In the video I’m pushing him up against the wall, the view of us is from the ceiling. I’m pinning his hands back, kissing him hard.

‘You set it up…’ He booked the WeStay, he recorded us. What’s the end goal? Blackmail? Is it possible that he targeted me somehow? He finds married women and fucks them, then what? The dating app relies on proximity, perhaps he was following me until we matched.

‘It looks like you, doesn’t it?’ he says. ‘But it can’t be you because you’re married.’

‘You… you were recording? You’ve been stalking me.’

‘Not me,’ he says. ‘I didn’t do the recording.’

‘What do you mean? You have the footage.’

‘I do,’ he says. ‘Someone shared it with me. When you decided to stop messaging me, I planned this rendezvous, a date you couldn’t say no to.’

He taps the screen. Now I see myself afterwards, in the bathroom sitting on the toilet.

‘You’re a pervert,’ I say, staring him in the eye. ‘Is this some game? Something you do to women?’

‘You did this to yourself, Lina.’

I let out a groan, something deep and atavistic, that trembles through me.

He taps the screen again and I see night-vision footage in the bedroom. I see Daniel. He reaches out and takes my phone sitting on the bedside table. He’s doing something, holding it close to his mouth as if talking to it.

‘Pretty clever, isn’t it? Even when a phone is locked, if Siri is turned on, you can ask it to call a phone number. I asked it to call my phone so I would have your number.’

It makes sense now. On the screen, as he puts the phone back something falls out of my handbag. It’s my ID for the ambulance service. He stares at it a moment, then towards the bathroom door and back at the ID before shoving it back into my bag. That’s how he got my real name. Did something else fall out? Maybe my necklace and ring?

‘Why do this? To punish me for something?’