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DCI Spears:Can you tell us what happened on the 17th November, the day Alice checked into the hotel?
Sue Leone:Um, I remember I was covering the front desk on my own. My colleague felt sick so she had to go home. It was fine, though. I’ve been there a long time so I can manage. Um, Alice came in and I got her checked in and gave her a room key.
DC Langdon:And how did Alice seem?
Sue Leone:I’m not sure. Happy, I think. She was nice. Polite. Some people are…well, they can be a bit rude. But she wasn’t at all. I told her my niece is called Alice too.
DCI Spears: Did anything strike you as unusual? Anything Alice said or did?
Sue Leone:No, nothing. That’s what’s so sad. It was just an ordinary check-in. And then…you know. She’s dead.
DCI Spears:What happened after you gave Alice her room key?
Sue Leone:She took it and went up to her room.
DC Langdon:Did you see Alice leave the hotel for any reason? Did she come down at all or call for room service or anything?
Sue Leone:No. I didn’t see her again or hear from her. Until…you know.
DC Langdon: Did Alice say why she was staying at the hotel for one night?
Sue Leone:No. And we don’t ask that kind of thing.
DCI Spears: Of course you don’t.
Sue Leone:But there is one thing I’ve just remembered. The overnight bag Alice had with her looked like it was empty. As if she’d brought nothing with her.
I sit by Max’s bed, listening to the bleep of the monitor. His face is barely recognisable through the bruising, but the shape of his body under the sheet is familiar. And comforting, if I allow myself to forget what’s happened. Black it out.
But I can’t. I won’t.
On my phone, I search Facebook for Eloise Costa, Nadia’s daughter. She’s on there – although her latest post is from July.
On Instagram she’s much more active, and she’s posted something this morning – a picture of her and a young man on a beach. Scrolling through her photos, I quickly realise that Eloise loves spending time outdoors. In every photo she’s dressed incasual clothes – joggers and T-shirts – and I wonder if she still had anything in common with Alice Hughes. The woman my husband slept with.
Forcing this thought away, I start typing a message to Eloise. I explain that I’m a friend of her mum’s and ask if I can talk to her about Alice. I know she lives in Canada, so might know nothing, but it’s worth a try. As soon as I’ve sent the message, I wonder if I’m making a mistake. There’s every possibility that Eloise could mention my message to Nadia, and then I’ll be left to explain why I’m asking her daughter about Alice Hughes. Just as I’d asked her questions the other day.
‘Hey, Hannah.’
Stefan, Max’s boss, stands by the door, lifting his hand in a wave. I stand up and gesture for him to come in. ‘It’s good of you to come,’ I say. ‘I know how busy you must be.’ It’s out of business hours, so it’s no surprise that he’s turned up now.
Stefan holds out his hand. He’s a large man in his mid fifties, with a head of thick light brown hair, and his palms are rough and dry. ‘I can’t believe this happened to him.’ He gestures to Max. ‘Has he been talking?’
‘Not much.’ I glance at Max, who’s been asleep since I got here. ‘He can’t remember the attack.’
‘Probably for the best. It’s worrying that it happened so close to the office. Lots of people have said they feel unsafe walking home. What do the police think happened?’
‘I spoke to them this morning. They’re continuing their enquiries. Which I’m taking to mean they don’t have any leads.’
Stefan shakes his head. ‘Unfortunately, this kind of thing is all too common in London.’
‘He can’t even remember the last few months.’ I explain to Stefan that when Max first spoke to me, he thought it was May and that he had their annual conference to get to.
Stefan’s bushy eyebrows knit together. ‘That’s not good. Not good at all.’ He glances at Max again. ‘What have the doctors said?’
‘That sometimes people can lose their memory with this type of traumatic brain injury.’ I look directly at Stefan, knowing that he won’t like this next part. As kind as it is for him to come here, work always comes first with this man. ‘And often they never get it back.’
Stefan turns to Max and sighs. ‘That’s not good news for him. He was working on a huge project.’ He places his hand on my shoulder. ‘Anyway, now’s not the time to worry about that. We just need Max to get better.’ He looks at me. ‘How about a coffee? I’ll get them from the restaurant downstairs – can’t stomach those tasteless vending machine drinks. Nothing but dishwater.’
