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I hug her, breathing in her comforting scent of Chanel No5.
‘Oh, I nearly forgot,’ she says, when I’m at the front door. ‘Cole called me earlier. He said he’s worried about you and asked me to check how you’re doing. That’s kind of him, isn’t it?’
Rain hammers against my windscreen as I drive home. It’s dark already, and I turn up the radio and scream until my throat feels as though it will crack. And when I stop at the lights, I thump my fists against the steering wheel.
I glance in the mirror, my breath catching in my throat when I see a silver Golf behind me. Just like the one that was following me the other day. It’s too close behind for me to see the number plate.
The lights turn green and I press down on the accelerator, veering into the right lane. The Golf does the same, and I squint into the mirror, trying to get a clearer view of the driver, but can only make out that it’s a man.
For several miles he follows me; no matter which road I take to try to lose him, he’s there right behind me.
Finally, after taking a long detour through Wandsworth and Clapham, I make my way home. I can call the police if he stops when I do.
But when I pull up outside the house, he screeches past, careering around the corner and disappearing. But I’ve memorised the number plate:AF23 NKT.
I pull out my phone, a layer of sweat coating my body beneath my jumper and padded coat. It feels as if I’ve been holding my breath the whole drive home, and I finally exhale.
I scroll to Taylor’s number and press call.
‘What are you doing?’ I demand, the second he answers.
‘Hannah? Is that you?’
‘Why are you following me?’
‘What are you talking about? I’m not following you.’
‘It was you. You followed me home from Richmond. From my mum’s house. In a silver Golf. Why?’
‘Hannah, calm down. I don’t even know where your mum lives, and why would I follow you? If I need to talk to you then I can just find you in the bookshop. Or at your house. You’re not making any sense.’
‘What car do you have?’
‘A blue Audi.’
‘But…but it was you.’ Although I’m becoming less sure of this by the second.
‘Hannah, listen. I’m at home. Can you hear the TV? I’m watching Netflix. Does it sound like I’m in a car?’
For a moment I listen to the sound of voices. An American film or box set. Not the sound of a car.
‘And listen, I’m boiling the kettle now.’ After a few seconds I hear the hiss of a kettle.
‘Then who was it?’ My breathing starts to slow, though my heart still races. ‘This is the second time someone in a silver Golf has followed me.’
‘Are you sure? They’re fairly common cars.’
‘Yes, I’m sure! What if it’s got something to do with Max’s attack? What if they’re coming for me next?’
‘I don’t know,’ Taylor says. There’s a long pause. ‘But you need to be careful. What if…what if Max wasn’t planning to do anything to you himself?’
Panic swells in my stomach. ‘What are you saying?’
‘What if Max found someone to do it for him?’
NINE
Extract from police interview with Sue Leone:
