James doesn’t acknowledge the comment.
“If I’d have known you were still in, I wouldn’t have put the alarm on when I left for my run,” Sam says.
“Just make sure you put it on when you leave. I’m heading out,” he says, turning and heading down the corridor.
“Anywhere nice?”
“Post office.”
And then he’s gone.
With a final look in the office, Sam turns and heads to the bathroom. The sweat from his run is starting to dry into his skin and he needs a shower.
In the bathroom, he places the knife on the side and turns the shower on, stripping off the rest of his clothes.
The bathroom hums with the sound of running water, but Sam’s attention has already drifted. Steam ghosts up the mirror while his thumb flicks idly across his phone screen.
The CCTV feed from Tom’s place flickers to life.
A familiar rush hits him — the small, private thrill of seeing without being seen. He scrolls through the angles: Tom’s hallway, the kitchen, the lazy sprawl of the living room that looks too tidy for one man to live there. And then the study.
There he is again.
The same man. Always the same man.
He moves like he belongs there — confident, practised. His hands are in drawers, flipping through papers. The same laptop open on the desk, the same focused intensity.
Sam frowns. He’s seen this man twice before. Once late at night, once early morning. Always in the office, always digging.
He’s looking for something.
Sam leans closer to the screen, heart beating faster now.
Who the hell are you?
A friend? A nosey neighbour? An obsessed stalker? No, that’s far too Eastenders for Tom’s mundane life.
He has a key. That’s the thing. He uses it like he owns the place. Calm. Certain.
But one thing is clear: he shouldn’t be in there.
If this man’s in Tom’s life, that makes him part of Sam’s. By proxy. And Sam does not like unknown variables.
The shower hisses behind him, forgotten. Steam curls around the room like smoke.
On-screen, he watches as the man closes the laptop, smoothing everything back into place — every movement neat enough to make a forensics team cry.
Then the man pauses. Doesn’t leave. Turns, heads upstairs.
Sam flicks the feed. Bedroom cam.
The man appears in the main bedroom. Wanders. Not searching — lingering. Like he’s waiting for something to start.
What are you looking for now?
The man goes to the basket at the end of the bed. Reaches in. Pulls out something black. Presses it to his face. Holds. Breathes.
Sam raises an eyebrow. “Oh. Oh okay.”
