Page 37 of The Girl in Room 12

When the front door closes and Cole comes back in, his cheeks remain scarlet. ‘Um, sorry about that. I told him you were my new girlfriend and that I wanted to impress you –so he’d do it quickly. If I’d said you were just a friend, then he wouldn’t have been in such a rush. You know, it being Sunday and everything. His precious day off.’

As much as I’m annoyed by what Cole has done, all that matters is the laptop. Now I just have to pray that there’s something on there that will give me some answers.

‘I have to go,’ I tell Cole. ‘Thanks for doing this.’

Outside in the parking bay, I look up at Cole’s window and see that he’s standing there watching me. He lifts his hand in a wave, so I do the same. But as I drive away, I can’t help feeling uneasy.

At home, I sit on the sofa with the laptop on my knees, searching through Max’s folders and documents. There are hundreds to look through, and anything could be lurking behind the façade of a work folder.

I diligently check each one until my eyes begin to blur and my head pounds. But I carry on until I’ve been through them all. Whatever Max is hiding, it’s not on here.

I click on Google Mail, but I don’t know Max’s password. The only thing left is checking his internet search history, and I’m surprised to find it hasn’t been deleted.

What does shock me is that all the websites he’s visited in the days leading up to his attack are linked to Alice Hughes. News articles, Google searches. All of them about Alice.

Then in between them, I notice he’s logged on to his online banking. It’s not our joint account, but Max’s separate account. There’s nothing unusual about that, but something compels me to click on the link.

Around a year ago, Max had needed me to log in for him. He was in Italy and was having trouble logging in to make a transfer. It’s likely he’s changed his passcode by now, but I’ve got nothing to lose by trying.

My heart races as I type in the digits. It works, and I’m taken to Max’s online banking home screen. I click on his currentaccount, and scan each transaction. Nothing stands out until I come across a cash withdrawal of ten thousand pounds. Two weeks ago. I try to recall whether there’s been anything big we’ve had to pay for recently, but nothing comes to mind.

I stare at the transaction, as if it will provide me with an answer, and then I call the first person I can think of.

‘Hey,’ Taylor says. ‘Are you all right?’

‘I don’t know why I’m calling you. But there’s a weird cash withdrawal on Max’s bank statement. I don’t know what it means. I…I don’t know what to think any more.’

‘Wait, slow down. Start from the beginning.’

The words tumble out of my mouth like an avalanche. ‘Max took out ten thousand pounds from his account two weeks ago. That’s a lot of money. I’ve been trying to work out what it could mean. I don’t understand it!’

‘Okay, let’s just think about this.’ Taylor’s voice is calm and rational, grounding me. ‘Did Max mention buying anything? Were you having work done on the house? Something to do with his car? Anything like that? Think carefully.’

I wrack my brain. ‘No. There’s nothing I can think of.’

‘Maybe he owed someone?’

‘Max is so careful with money. He’d never need to borrow. He doesn’t even use his credit card. He hates owing money.’

There’s a pause. ‘I don’t know what to say, Hannah. You’re right – it doesn’t make sense. But isn’t this just one more thing he’s keeping from you?’

That’s when it hits me. ‘The man who’s been following me. What if you’re right and he’s paid someone to…’ I can’t finish the sentence. ‘I have to go,’ I say, ending the call.

I check all the doors and windows again, and set the burglar alarm downstairs. I’ve never put it on before at night, but it’s the only way I’ll get any sleep. As much as I miss her, I’m glad Poppy isn’t here tonight.

I sleep fitfully, and it’s a relief when morning arrives. It’s seven a.m. and still dark outside but the sky is beginning to lighten. Turning on lights as I go, I check the house again, and in Poppy’s room, I scan the road outside. There’s no sign of any Golf, and I begin to wonder if I’ve been overreacting. This is Max. My husband. He’s not a murderer.

But Alice Hughes is dead, and Max was having an affair with her. He’s withdrawn ten thousand pounds from his account without mentioning it, and he’s fallen out with his PA again without saying a word to me.

I pick up my phone to check my messages, and there’s a reply from Eloise.

It’s so sad about Alice. What did you want to know? I haven’t seen her for a while. Did you know her?

Immediately I reply, though it’s likely she won’t see it for a few hours in Canada.

I just wondered when you last spoke to her? And how she seemed?

I send the message, then see that Paula, Max’s PA, has contacted me.

---