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‘Never mind. I’ve had an idea. Let me take it to Cole. He might be able to sort it for you.’
Max screws up his face, wincing as he does and clutching the side of his head. ‘Cole?’
‘Yeah. He’s always fixing the IT issues at the shop.’ I stand up. ‘I’ll go and get it. Is it still in the bedroom? I’ll ask Mum to come over for a bit while I’m gone.’
Max’s face seems to fold in on itself. ‘I don’t need babysitting,’ he says.
‘It’s not. She wants to come and see you anyway, and I can take the opportunity to sort out the laptop. Can you just humour her?’ I plaster on the fake smile I’ve become good at presenting.
Max says nothing – he doesn’t believe me.
‘You want to get back to work, don’t you? As much as I don’t agree with it.’ I walk off before he has a chance to object.
‘I just want my life back,’ I hear him mumble. ‘All of it.’
I ring the doorbell, my chest tight with anxiety. Lying doesn’t sit well with me, even though I know that’s exactly what Max has been doing.
Taylor opens the door. There’s a purple bruise over his eye and cheeks. ‘Come in,’ he says. He’s wearing jeans and a hooded top, and his feet are bare.
Before finding that key card, I would never have envisaged that I’d so easily step inside the home of a virtual stranger likethis. And put myself at risk. But the risk of doing nothing feels far greater.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask.
He touches his cheek. ‘It looks worse than it is.’ He smiles. ‘You must be worried to come all the way to Chiswick.’
‘It’s not that far.’
‘Here, let me take your coat.’ Taylor reaches out his hand but I shrink back, pulling the belt of my coat tighter around my waist.
‘I’m fine, thanks. I just need to warm up.’
‘No worries. At least let me take your scarf. I’ve had the heating on and it’s boiling in here.’
He’s right – it is warm in here, but I won’t take off my coat, make myself too comfortable. I undo my scarf and hand it to him. ‘Thanks.’
‘Want something to drink?’ he asks.
‘No, thanks.’
He shrugs, and drapes my scarf over a coat peg. ‘Suit yourself. Let’s go in there and sit down.’ He gestures to a door on the right and heads through the narrow hallway.
It’s a sleek and modern flat, with abstract art hung on several walls. It has a nice feel. Homely and cared for, even if it is minimal.
‘Aren’t you worried?’ I ask. ‘You were attacked and your phone’s been stolen.’
He holds up a different phone. ‘Using my old one.’
‘That’s not the point. Someone’s taken the hotel card. It’s got my prints all over it.’ It’s only now I’m allowing myself to voice these thoughts. It can’t just be random. Coincidence.
‘It couldn’t have been Max, could it? He’s been in hospital.’
‘Then there’s someone else out there who knows. Or…someone’s doing it for him.’
‘I’m trying not to jump to conclusions,’ Taylor says. ‘But it doesn’t look good. You said someone in a silver Golf has been following you. Have you seen them again?’
‘No. But I’m always looking over my shoulder.’
‘Me too.’ He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. ‘I’m guessing Max is home now?’
