be stretching and I give a big yawn. ‘I hope I’m not asleep by then. It’s been such a hard day. And then there’s the funeral to plan.’
‘Oh yes.’ He grabs his bag. Please don’t check inside, I pray. ‘I better go,’ he says.
I watch him head for the door, wondering where he’s heading to at this time of night. It’s almost ten already. Once he’s gone I hurry to the window in the living room and peer down until I see him exit onto the street, then I race to the little locked room and rapidly flick through the keys trying to find the one that fits. I try four before I hit on the right one and the little click tells me I’m in.
The room’s as I saw from my quick glimpse the other day. The walls are covered in soundproofing material. There’s a desk with a computer monitor on it, as well as what looks like recording equipment. A pile of textbooks sits beside the computer and on the monitor I can see an audio file is open. It’s some kind of recording program.
I’m about to turn away when my attention is caught by a second monitor on the desk. If all Sebastian does is record textbooks in here, why does he need so many monitors? I reach over and turn it on.
The screen is divided into four equal rectangles. It looks like the screens you see on police shows when they are checking CCTV footage. Each rectangle is a still image of a room.
My heart leaps into the stratosphere. I recognise the room in the top left corner. It’s the room I slept in, in the apartment upstairs. I recognise the tiles on the wall. My eyes fly to the next rectangle. It’s Kate’s old room. The rectangle below is a shot of the living area and kitchen from above – the camera must be hidden in the light fitting. And the final rectangle shows a feed from the bathroom. The en-suite bathroom that connects to the master bedroom. I was right all along – Sebastian has been spying on me.
My heart stops at the realisation he watched me shower and go to the loo. He watched me strip naked and sleep too. He must have watched Kate having sex.
A movement catches the corner of my eye. I scan the monitor and jump back in fright when I see the shower curtain in the bathroom video yank back. A woman steps out naked, reaching for a towel. It’s live! I’m watching the woman in the apartment upstairs as she gets out the shower and starts to towel off.
Horrified I look away, feeling like a voyeur, but my whole body is suffused with rage. I feel dirty, covered in grime.
Sebastian locks himself in this room and pervs on people in their most intimate moments; as they shower, undress, sleep. He spied on Kate and me, as he must have spied on countless others. Another thought occurs: did he see anything the night she went missing? Was he watching? He knew how many people we brought home. He must have watched on the video feed. So what else does he know?
I press the keyboard’s space bar, wondering if I there’s a way to navigate to a homepage. It doesn’t take long before I discover sixteen more live feeds, a total of four cameras installed at each of his five apartments. Every feed is much the same. I watch people sleeping, eating, watching movies, and am shocked when I land on one screen and see two people having sex. The camera must be installed right above the bed.
I notice a pair of headphones on the desk in front of me and reach for them. The audio comes through loud and clear; groans and moan and gasps. It’s the couple having sex. I rip the headphones off, pressing a hand to my mouth in shock. That’s how Sebastian knew so much. He’s not just watching, he’s listening too. Where has he hidden the mics?
I click on the one final camera image, recognising instantly my handbag on the bed and my suitcase by the door. He’s even been spying on me in his own apartment! What a sick pervert. I back away from the screen in disgust. Is that all he does, I wonder, watch and listen? Does he get off on it? Does he sit in here, masturbating as he watches?
Thoroughly creeped out and more than a little horrified, I