“I could ask.” If I moved in with Will now, I could still be there at the weekend when Chloe comes to visit. I don’t know how he’d feel about me sharing his bed, especially since as far as his daughter is concerned, we’re just friends.

“Or a friend?” the PC says, as though he’s just read the expression on my face.

I can’t bring myself to tell him that I don’t have any close friends in the area. There’s Sheila, but she’s also my boss so I couldn’t possibly impose on her. I don’t reply but nod in vague agreement.

“Here’s a leaflet that may be of help,” he says, pushing one towards me. “There’s a number for the National Stalking Helpline on the front. There’s information about personal and cyber safety. You could get your computer checked to make sure that key-logging software hasn’t been installed and that your anti-virus software is up to date. If any more messages come through via your work website, you could try contacting your web hosting company to see if they can help.”

“Thank you.” I reach for my bag with my good arm and slip the leaflet inside, then pick up my mobile, lying on the centre of the table between us, and put that in my bag, too. My hands are shaking so much it takes three attempts to get it into the inner pocket.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. I just … it’s a lot to take in.”

“You’ve got someone waiting for you? Someone you can talk to?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He stands up and holds out a hand. “We’ll be in touch. Try not to worry; we’ll do everything we can.”

Will is waiting for me in his car outside the police station. He opens the passenger door as I draw near.

“Well, how did it go?”

I try not to wince as I climb in. I was discharged from the hospital five hours ago and every part of my body still aches from where the car hit me. A huge black and green bruise covers most of my right thigh, and the palms of my hands are scratched and pitted from where I hit the road before I rolled into the verge. The scratches on the left side of my face are tender, although thankfully the swelling has gone down, and I can see through my right eye now, even though it’s still swollen and bruised. I’m still nursing my left arm in a sling, but it’s a relief that the shoulder isn’t dislocated and it should feel better soon, according to the doctor.

“The PC asked me to write a list of anyone who might hold a grudge against me. He said there’s a possibility that the accident was deliberate, that someone might intentionally have been trying to hurt me.”