‘Don’t you think it’s a strange coincidence?’ Jake asks. ‘Given his relationship with Kate, a former super recogniser?’

  ‘Maybe that’s what sparked his interest in the whole facial-recognition thing. After he met her and heard the amazing things she’d been doing with Wiltshire Police.’

  ‘That’s what I thought. Until I remembered something – the first time I met Rob, at the hospital.’

  It wasn’t an easy encounter. Jake knew as soon as he walked onto the ward and saw Rob sitting at Kate’s bedside, paying her attention, that it was over between him and Kate.

  ‘I just had this feeling it wasn’t the first time I’d seen him,’ Jake continues.

  ‘How come?’ Bex asks, showing more interest now.

  ‘I’d clocked him in the car park at Gablecross police station.’

  ‘You sure?’

  ‘It was the day before Kate’s accident. I’d been in to talk to DI Hart about some research for my latest book.’

  They’d ended up chatting more about winter migrant birds than police procedure.

  ‘Was he driving a Tesla?’ she asks.

  ‘I don’t recall. Just saw him walking towards the police station entrance.’

  And wearing a baseball cap. It had stuck in his mind because Jake had wondered if he could get away with one at his age. Probably not.

  ‘So you’d seen Rob before – that doesn’t mean Kate had,’ Bex says. ‘They met because he happened to be putting on an art show at the hospital where she was a patient.’

  ‘I know that’s what everyone says. All very romantic. I get it. But what if Rob was at the hospital specifically to meet Kate? This incredible super recogniser who had outperformed every facial-recognition software program.’

  Bex sighs. ‘I know it’s not easy, Jake,’ she says, walking through to the kitchen, ‘but he’s been incredibly good to her over the past five months, nurtured her back to health because he loves her. Loves her art. Wants her to paint again.’

  ‘I hope you’re right.’

  Jake is about to get up from the computer when his phone rings.

  It’s Kate.

  ‘Jake,’ she says quietly.

  The line’s terrible, but Jake can hear enough to tell that Kate’s frightened. He signals furiously for Bex to come back from the kitchen and listen.

  ‘Where are you?’ he asks, putting Kate on speakerphone as Bex rushes over.

  ‘Jake, can you hear me?’ Kate says, her voice now a desperate whisper.

  Jake cracks his big knuckles, increasingly worried by the tone of her voice.

  ‘Where are you, Katie, my love?’ Bex says, leaning in towards the phone. ‘Why are you whispering?’

  They both strain to hear what Kate says next. Maybe something about Rob’s flat. It’s hard to tell.

  The line drops.

  71

  Silas

  It’s late and Silas is driving Strover home through the deserted streets of Swindon. A light rain has rinsed the roads, leaving them black and shiny. They were the last two in the Parade Room tonight, going through automatic-number-plate-recognition records from six months ago, grateful that they’re kept for one year at the National ANPR Data Centre. Conor’s revelation that the car at the scene of Kate’s crash was a Tesla has changed everything. Silas can’t be certain that it was Rob at the wheel, but it’s beginning to make sense, at least to him.

  ‘Remember when we showed Kate a still from the CCTV footage at the pub?’ he asks.

  ‘And Kate recognised the barman,’ Strover says, tired, unimpressed.

  ‘When we asked her how,’ Silas continues, ‘she said that the same barman had spiked her coffee in the harbour café the day before.’

  ‘So she never forgets a face.’ Strover is still sceptical. ‘At least, she never used to.’

  ‘Exactly. But she didn’t just say that she recognised him. She said that he’d spiked her coffee. That’s quite a specific charge to level at someone.’

  It’s been bothering Silas ever since Kate told them in Cornwall. He steers the car across Swindon’s infamous magic roundabout, five small ones linked in a circle.

  ‘I still don’t get how this relates to Rob,’ she says, staring out of the window into the Swindon night.

  ‘Because I think it was Rob who suggested to Kate that her coffee had been spiked.’

  ‘Rob?’ She looks across at him.

  ‘He’d seen it happen before – six months earlier in the Bluebell.’

  ‘How could Rob have seen it happen?’ Strover asks, more engaged now. ‘He wasn’t at the Bluebell that night.’

  ‘What if he was?’ Silas says as they approach Strover’s road, a row of mid-Victorian terraced houses close to Swindon station. ‘According to the barman, a Tesla was at the scene of Kate’s crash. And he thinks he spotted the same vehicle in the pub car park earlier.’

  ‘That still doesn’t put Rob in the pub,’ Strover says.

  ‘It does if he was sitting in the corner, watching her.’ Silas parks up and turns off the engine. ‘He sees the barman do something suspicious with her drink. When she leaves, he follows Kate home in his Tesla.’

  ‘You make it sound like he was stalking Kate,’ Strover says, struggling to hide her frustration.

  ‘Or protecting her,’ Silas says. ‘Unfortunately, Kate’s success as a super recogniser was all over the press.’

  It’s still just a hunch. Silas can’t prove that Rob was in the pub – most CCTV cameras only keep footage for up to a month before they start to overwrite.

  ‘All we know is that someone who drives a Tesla was definitely looking out for Kate that night,’ he continues, checking his own enthusiasm. ‘Keen to keep her alive after she crashed.’

  As if on cue, an ambulance appears from a side street, lights flashing, and pulls onto the main road, heading back towards the nearby Great Western Hospital in eerie silence. No need for a siren tonight.

  ‘Six months later, someone seems to be protecting her again,’ Silas continues. ‘And we have to consider that it might be Rob. Her guardian angel. A man tries to spike Kate’s coffee and then attempts to run her down in the street. Now that man’s dead.’

  Strover sits back, blowing out her cheeks. Silas is happy to wait, let it all sink in. There’s no proof that Rob has taken the law into his own hands. Not yet.

  ‘What about Gilmour Martin?’ she asks. ‘It could have been him. I mean, why would Rob be keen to protect Kate before he’d even met her?’

  ‘We know nothing about the man except that he happens to look like Rob,’ he says.

  ‘And he was seen driving around Cornwall in a Tesla when the barman was shot dead – by an unusual gun fired in Thailand, where Gilmour was last seen. Kate said Rob was worried about having a double.’

  Silas glances at Strover. Her interest in Gilmour is starting to niggle like a sore tooth. They need to talk to Kate again, Rob too. Ask them about his weird fears, why he thinks he’s in danger from his doppelgänger. Wouldn’t he have alerted the police if he was really worried? Asked for protection?

  ‘You saw the security at Rob’s house in Cornwall,’ he says. ‘Cameras everywhere. I think Rob has always feared that Kate has been at risk from the people she identified. And perhaps from other people too.’

  72

  Kate

  There’s a person standing in the main room of the apartment, Kate’s sure of it. She slips the phone into her dressing-gown pocket. It was good to hear Jake’s voice again, even if his words were barely audible.

  Making her way out of the bathroom, she peers towards the front door, her body trembling beneath the thin dressing gown.

  ‘Hello?’ she calls out.

  Rob would have said something by now.

  A faint light from the candles in the bedroom is slowly taking the edge off the darkness in the main room. She strains to see who it is. Someone definitely came in through the front door – she heard the telltale click – but there’s only silence.

  ‘Rob?’ she calls out again. ‘Is that you?’

  Why isn’t he saying anything? She starts to retreat towards the bathroom, barely daring to breathe. Could it be a burglar? An intruder? Rob is always going on about the dangers of London. And then the person speaks. The familiar trace of Rob’s southern Irish accent is reassuring, but the absence of all empathy is not.

  ‘Who were you calling?’ he asks.

  ‘Thank God it’s you,’ she says, trying to ignore his question, the cold, accusatory tone. The only other time she’s heard him speak like this was during a work call, when he was ordering someone to ‘boil the ocean’ for new customers. ‘I thought it might have been… Where are you?’ she asks. ‘Why didn’t you say something sooner? I can’t see you.’

  She takes a few steps forward, in the direction of the door, where she can now make out the faintest outline of Rob. Even though he’s to her right, she has no wish to see him more clearly.

  ‘I heard you talking to someone,’ he continues.

  Her fear turns to anger. She’s just been through hell because of Rob’s bloody apartment and all he can do is stand there asking questions.

  ‘Rob, the landline’s down, there’s no power, I couldn’t even get out the fucking front door tonight. Where are you? I can’t see you. I’ve been scared stiff.’

  ‘You should have called me,’ he says, his coldness starting to thaw.

  He’s right. She knows she should. Instead, in her moment of crisis, she tried to ring Jake. Why didn’t she call Rob back again? They’d been talking on and off all evening until the landline dropped.

  ‘I was frightened,’ she says. ‘The power cut, the security blinds… I thought Jake might know what was going on with the apartment. The electrics. He was always good at fixing things on the boat.’

  The faintest sniff of derision. She’s rarely heard Rob like this. He’s usually so sure of himself, of them. It’s what attracted her to him in the first place: his quiet self-confidence, the lack of jealousy, his never passing judgement on the modest life that she led with Jake on the boat.

  ‘And I didn’t know when you were coming back,’ she continues. ‘You sounded so busy. And then the phone died and the blinds came down and this bloody drone…’ She can’t hold it together any longer.

  ‘Come here,’ he says, his voice kinder now, softer. A moment later, his arms are around her and she’s sobbing on his shoulder.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she says. ‘For calling Jake.’

  This is so strange. They’ve never had a scene about their exes before. And now here they are, in the middle of a power cut, having their first row.

  ‘I’m the one who’s sorry,’ he says. ‘For what happened here tonight.’

  She can cope like this, when she’s in his arms and cannot see his face. The world is back on its axis, free from all thoughts of doubles. It’s how it used to be when they first met and moved down to Cornwall, thrilled by each other’s bodies.

  She finds his mouth and kisses him. Darkness is her friend.

  73

  Jake

  ‘Apologies for calling so late,’ Jake says, sitting in the heated leather passenger seat of Rob’s Tesla. Bex is driving and Stretch is asleep on his lap.

  ‘No doubt it’s still daylight in Lapland,’ DI Hart replies.

  ‘Ouch,’ Bex whispers, looking ahead.

  Hart never misses the chance to remind Jake that his books are only published in Finland.

  ‘Kate just called us,’ Jake continues, ignoring the barb. They’re heading into London. Neither of them knows exactly where Rob lives, only that it’s somewhere in Shoreditch. ‘She sounded distressed.’

  ‘Us?’ Hart says.

  ‘I’m with Bex,’ Jake says. ‘Her friend.’

  He’s not used to talking into the air like this. Kate’s Morris Minor didn’t exactly stretch to a built-in car audio system.

  ‘Hello, Bex,’ Hart says drily.

  ‘You alright?’ she asks.

  Jake has noticed it before. Bex’s Lancashire accent becomes more pronounced when she’s nervous. Alright becomes alreet.

  ‘We met down in Cornwall,’ she adds for Jake’s benefit.

  ‘Where was Kate calling from?’ Hart asks.

  ‘We think from Rob’s flat in London,’ Jake says.

  ‘Shoreditch,’ Bex adds.

  ‘If she’s with him, she’s fine,’ Hart says, almost matter-of-factly.

  Jake glances at Bex, who looks equally confused by Hart’s relaxed response. ‘How can you be so sure?’ he asks.

  ‘Trust me,’ Hart says.

  ‘OK,’ Jake says, failing to hide his irritation. Kate used to adopt a similar tone when he’d asked one too many questions about her police work. ‘She didn’t exactly sound happy, that’s all. I know it wouldn’t normally be a police matter, but given what happened in Cornwall, I just thought…’

  ‘How long ago did she call?’

  Jake looks across at Bex.

  ‘Ten minutes?’ she offers.

  After Kate tried to ring them, Jake and Bex immediately agreed that they should drive up to London, even if they didn’t know precisely where Rob lived. The call had distressed them both.

  ‘And what exactly did she say?’ Hart asks.

  ‘The line was terrible…’ Jake turns to Bex again for support.

  ‘We think she mentioned Rob’s flat,’ Bex says, ‘where she was heading tonight.’

  ‘She hasn’t been picking up all evening,’ Jake adds. He knows how it must sound to Hart. Bitter ex unable to get over break-up.

  ‘Kate’s undoubtedly been a target in recent months,’ Hart says. ‘A result, I’m afraid to say, of the work she did for us.’

  It’s the first time Jake’s heard Hart admit that. He wishes he’d said something earlier – like before the car crash.

  ‘But we think that threat has now passed,’ Hart continues. ‘And, as I say, if she’s with Rob, I’m not worried. If anything, I’m reassured.’

  Why’s Hart sounding so damn relaxed about Rob all of a sudden?

  ‘I don’t think Rob met Kate by chance,’ Jake says. He doesn’t like the way Kate has dropped off the radar, as if everything’s now fine. ‘In the hospital, that first time.’ Again, Jake is worried how he’s coming across, as if he’s obsessed with Kate’s new partner. But Hart’s tone changes.

  ‘Tell me,’ he says, more interest in his voice.

  Jake explains about seeing Rob in the car park at Gablecross when he came in to ask Hart some questions about police procedure for his latest book.

  ‘Remind me when that was?’

  ‘A day before Kate’s accident. We ended up talking about Bewick’s swans.’

  ‘I remember,’ Hart says.

  ‘Rob’s also involved with facial-recognition software,’ Jake adds, now that he’s got Hart’s attention. ‘Some new hush-hush outfit, possibly based in France, according to an investigative website over there. He’s known for all his medtech stuff, but I think he engineered a meeting with Kate at the hospital because he was professionally interested in the recognition work she was doing for you.’

  This is met by a silence so long that Jake wonders if Hart has hung up. Even Stretch raises his head to see what’s going on. Bex glances across at Jake, who dials up the volume on the in-car audio system.

  ‘And you think Rob was visiting Gablecross police station?’ Hart asks eventually.

  ‘I assume so.’

  ‘Leave it with me,’ Hart says. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow, first thing.’

  ‘What about Kate?’ Jake says, worried that Hart will hang up. ‘We just want to check that she’s OK. If you’ve got his address, we could—’

  ‘We don’t have Rob’s exact London details at the moment,’ Hart says, sounding embarrassed. So it’s not just Jake who can’t find his address. ‘I’m sure she’s fine.’

  74

  Kate

  It’s like a switch has been flicked – in Rob and in Kate. The old Rob is back, the handsome Irish boy who has cared for her unquestioningly these last five months. The Rob she loves. Her fears of a few minutes ago are already fading, like the receding tide. She can’t see him, thanks to the power cut, but the voice is definitely Rob’s. She can cope like this. She must be suffering from Capgras syndrome. Why else would he appear different but sound so familiar? She just hopes it’s temporary, as Ajay suggested. She can’t spend the rest of her life with Rob in the dark.

  ‘We’re trying to establish what’s caused the outage,’ he continues, his arms still wrapped around her as they stand together in the inky blackness of his apartment, their bodies pressed together. ‘The whole system went into lockdown and then there was a local power failure.’

  ‘How did you manage to get in here?’ she asks.

  ‘The front door runs off a different power source – part of the main building.’

  He’s always happiest talking technology, never likes it when she tries to discuss the two of them, their feelings for each other.

  ‘Was everyone else shut in then?’ she asks.

  ‘I assume so.’

  He doesn’t sound very convinced and she wonders again if the lockdown was orchestrated by Rob for her safety. ‘You can be honest with me, you know,’ she says. ‘About tonight. I understand.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  Should she continue? She’s no longer angry with him.

  ‘If the “outage” wasn’t an accident,’ she adds.

  Do his arms momentarily slacken around her?

  ‘Next time, you can just tell me if you think I’m in danger,’ she continues. ‘I’m a big girl, worked for the police for a year, remember? Someone tried to kill me in Cornwall – scary for me, but for you too. I get that now. But they’re dead, so there’s no need to worry any more.’

  ‘I’d do anything to keep you safe, you know that,’ he says, his tone more relaxed. ‘But what happened tonight wasn’t deliberate. The only thing I’m not being honest with you about is that this system is still in beta testing mode and—’