“Were you naked in the bed?” McNulty asked.
Alice thought she saw Moore glare at him, as if he shouldn't have asked, but he seemed to take no notice. He raised an eyebrow at Alice.
She shook her head. “No. And so what if I was? That’s irrelevant. It was hot, I had a sheet over me. And I had underwear on. But not a bra.”
“It’s okay Alice,” Moore said. “Go on.”
Alice leaned against the wall. She pointed at the motion sensor above the door to the landing. “Someone installed that. I think it’s a camera, so I covered it.”
“You think the person who broke in put it there?” McNulty asked.
“For sure. I think it's the estate agent. Because he knew the alarm code and had a key to the house. Who else would have all that?”
“Could it have been anyone else?” Moore asked.
“No. It’s him. He knew my name. I think he said things about watching me. Wanting me. He whispered in my ear that eyes were watching me. He... he put his hands around my throat and tried to choke me. I couldn't breathe.” She trembled at the memory and rubbed her neck.
“How about your partner?” McNulty looked in his notebook. “Ian Morgan. Where was he tonight? He was here two weeks ago when your window was broken.”
“What window?”
McNulty looked to Moore with a puzzled expression. “Someone put a brick through your lounge window along with a note saying, ‘Fuck off back to Mecca’. Peed through your letterbox.”
Alice put her hands on her hip. “What? That’s the first I’ve heard about this. No wonder he gave me...”
“Gave you what?”
“Um, nothing. It doesn't matter. Anyway, why didn't he tell me about the window?”
“Probably didn't want to worry you,” Moore said.
McNulty shrugged. “We told him it was a one off.”
“Christ. It’s probably the same person.”
McNulty shook his head. “We don't know that.”
“Alice, you recognised the estate agent’s voice?” Moore asked.
Alice shook her head. “No. He turned the radio up loud and whispered all the time. I couldn't hear him. He seemed familiar though.”
“Okay,” McNulty said, drawing out the two syllables. “What’s his name?”
“Flanagan. Mark Flanagan. He has damp, clammy hands. I remember that.”
“All right, Alice,” Moore said. “We need to secure the room. The Sexual Offences Team will take over. They’ll arrange SOCOs, who will check the room for evidence. They’ll also deal with that device you told us about. If you need anything from this room, get it now, because you won't be able to enter until they’re finished with it.”
“He dropped a packet of pills. They’re over there.” Alice pointed to the bedside table.
“We’ll leave those for the SOCOs. We need to leave now.”
“What are SOCO’s?” Alice asked.
“Scene of crime officers.” McNulty said. “These ones specialise in sex crimes. They’ll look for hairs, fibres, fingerprints, body fluids.”
“But he only took off his gloves for a minute.”
“Yeah. Well, let’s see what they turn up.”
Alice looked at the two officers. Her gaze took in assorted tools, lurking in pockets and belts. Instruments of an unfamiliar world. She swung her eyes to the hidden camera now covered by a cloth, then back to the bed, where the straps taunted her helplessness and her humiliation. A sense of multiple violations struck her, and she leaned against the wall for support.
“I’m sorry, Alice,” Moore said. “I’m sure you can stay in another room. Do you have anyone you can talk to? I know it’s the middle of the night, but you could use a friend right now.” She glanced at McNulty. “It might take a while for the team to arrive.”
“How long?” Alice asked.
Moore tightened her lips and looked at her watch. “Several hours at least. I’m guessing they won't be her until 8 at the earliest.”
“What am I supposed to do until then?”
Moore shrugged. “Sorry, but there’s nothing we can do.”
Alice nodded in slow motion.
“Alice,” Moore pointed to the camera above the bedroom door. “If that’s a camera, it’s probably using your internet connection. You should switch the router off or change the access code.”
Alice sighed and got to her feet. “It’s in the office. I’ll switch it off for now.”
After she powered off the router, they went down to the kitchen.
“Alice? You okay?” Moore asked. “Are you going to call someone?”
“No. I’m not okay.” Alice’s voice was low, more of a whisper.
“It’s not your fault,” McNulty said. “You're the victim.”
Alice folded her arms and stared down McNulty. She took a deep breath and held her voice steady. “I’m a survivor. Not a victim.”
“Alice, excuse us for a moment.” Moore beckoned to McNulty and they went out to the hall. The sound of a heated conversation filtered through the kitchen door, but Alice couldn't make out what they said. Moments later, Moore came back in. “Provided I don't get another call,” Moore said, “I can stay with you until the team arrives. My colleague will go back and do the paperwork.”
Alice felt her shoulders relax. “Thank you.”
69
By the time Cole reached Notting Hill Gate, he could no longer walk fast, never mind run. His heart hammered. Both eyes stung with sharp pain. To avoid stumbling into things, he had to squint through one eye. Even then he stubbed his left toe on the kerb when he crossed the street. His breathing laboured hard as he glanced around. No-one followed. It appeared he was safe for now. He cursed himself for his carelessness. One mistake could cost him, and he needed
