I check for the third time that the security latch is flipped, muting the TV into silence. Creeping nearer in bare feet, I squint through the spyhole, the fisheye lens distorting the corridor into a crazy hall-of-mirrors version of reality. There’s a dark-clad figure with his back to the door. He turns to knock again and I feel a wash of relief, every muscle in my body relaxing in unison.
It’s DI Gilbourne. He knocks once again and this time I open the door.
‘Hey, Ellen. I was just passing and I thought I’d check in with you, make sure everything’s all right.’ He stops, studying my face. ‘Are you OK? You’re white as a sheet.’
‘Leon Markovitz,’ I say quietly. ‘He found me, he knows I’m here.’
‘When?’ Gilbourne says, his eyes narrowing.
‘Just now. He was downstairs, phoned me from right outside my window.’
‘Markovitz washere?’
I nod and he raises a finger to his lips. He walks noiselessly down the corridor to where it turns at a right angle, then does the same on the other side, before checking the stairwell and the fire exit door.
‘All clear,’ he says, returning. ‘Who are you on the phone to?’
He takes over my call to the police control room and tells them he’ll meet the uniformed officers as they arrive.
‘Wait here,’ he says to me. ‘Don’t open the door to anyone except me, OK?’
He gets out his own phone and heads back to the stairs as I shut the door. I sit down at the little desk again, top up my wine and take a heavy swallow, my hand shaking as the adrenaline slowly recedes. I hate to admit it to myself but I feel safer with Gilbourne nearby and I’m glad he’s here. Not because he’s a police officer, or a man. Because he’s an ally. Because it means I’m not on my own, even if it’s only for a little while.
He knocks on the door ten minutes later, his deep voice full of concern, and tells me they’ve done a sweep of the whole site and the surrounding area, finding no sign of Markovitz or his car.
‘Are you OK?’ he says. ‘You looked a bit shaken up before.’
‘I’m all right,’ I say. ‘I think. Thanks for . . . you know. Coming over. I appreciate it.’
He nods, smiles, but says nothing.
‘How did you know I was here?’
‘I didn’t. I called in at Tara’s house on my way home and she told me.’ He gestures over his shoulder with a thumb. ‘Listen, I’m going to stay downstairs for a bit, in my car. Keep an eye out in case he turns up again. I don’t like the idea of you being here on your own if he comes back, especially after what happened the other day.’
‘Do you think he will come back?’
‘Hard to say, he’s a very unpredictable guy. Better safe than sorry though. You sure you’re all right?’
I feel another rush of gratitude for this man, a warmth spreading in my chest. Standing there in a hotel corridor with his tie askew, his day of stubble, the fresh clean scent of his aftershave.
‘I appreciate it, Stuart, but you don’t have to stay. Saturday night, I’m sure you’ve got other places to be. Better places.’
He gives me a wry grin and shrugs his shoulders. ‘Not really. Married to the job, that’s me.’
I almost don’t say it. But then I jump in before I can change my mind.
‘Well, if you are going to hang around for a bit, you might as well be in the warm rather than freezing down in the car park.’ I indicate the open bottle of French red on the desk. ‘Either way I could use some help with this bottle of wine, otherwise I’m going to end up drinking it all myself and that never ends well.’
‘Shouldn’t really, I’m driving.’ He smiles again, his eyes crinkling at the edges. ‘But I can stay with you for a bit if you like, in case Leon reappears.’
‘I’d like that. Thanks.’ I gesture to the armchair by the window and he turns it around to face the room, sits down.
‘So,’ he says, crossing one leg over the other. ‘What did Leon have to say this evening?’
I outline the conversation, Leon’s offer to protect me from Dominic Church while I somehow spirit Mia away to a safe place.
‘Toprotectyou?’ Gilbourne gives a disbelieving shake of his head. ‘After assaulting you in your own house with a potentially lethal weapon? I find that a bit hard to swallow.’
