The man grunted in response, avoiding eye contact.

Tomek pulled the chair out from beneath the table and crossed one leg over the other. Confidence bubbled beneath his surface, and he was unable to stifle the smirk on his face.

‘How are you doing today, Shawn?’ he asked, excitement lacing his tone.

‘Why am I here?’

‘We just have some more questions for you.’

‘Why’d you have to come down and bring me in here?’ he asked, sounding like a petulant teenager. ‘Now everyone at work’s gonna know I’m being questioned about this shit.’

That sounded like a Shawn problem, nothing to do with him.

‘I hope you didn’t cause a scene,’ Tomek said. ‘Otherwise that would only add to the speculation.’

Shawn turned his nose up at Tomek, pulling a face. ‘You still ain’t told me why I’m here.’

‘All in good time,’ Tomek replied as he prodded the folder on the table. ‘All in good time.’ Tomek dragged the folder slowly towards him and opened it on his knee, keeping it out of Shawn’s eyeline. Then he looked at the first page. There, in front of him, was the homepage of Angelica’s blog. Tomek removed it from the folder and slid it across the table. ‘Do you recognise this, Shawn?’

Shawn gave the sheet a second’s glance. ‘Yeah.’

‘What is it, please?’

‘Angelica’s blog.’

‘And how do you know about it?’

‘Because I’ve seen it before.’

‘How many times would you say you’ve seen it?’

A shrug. Nonchalant, dismissive, like he’d just been asked if he wanted to get the next round – only if he had to.

‘If you had to put a number on it,’ Tomek insisted. ‘How many times? A dozen? Fifty? A hundred?’

‘I dunno.’

‘So it’s safe to assume you’ve seen it a lot then?’

‘Maybe.’

‘And how did you come by this little corner of the Internet, Shawn? Did Angelica send you the link directly, or did you find it via other means?’

Shawn sighed deeply, heavily. So deeply that Tomek felt the air brush against his knuckles.

‘I saw it in one of her Instagram posts,’ the stalker admitted. ‘There isn’t anything wrong with that. If she wanted to make it private, she could have. If she didn’t want people to find it, then she shouldn’t have posted it online. She’s the one who put it out there. It’s not like I went looking for it.’

‘And that’s absolutely right,’ Tomek said.

‘Eh?’ Shawn muttered, taken aback.

‘I agree. It’s a website, websites are there to be found. Just like social media pages. I don’t have a problem with you looking at it, but what I do have a problem with, and what I want a little more clarity on, is if you’ve ever posted anything in the comments? From what I gather, this website didn’t get much traffic, so was this another one of your ways of reaching out to Angelica, letting her know you were watching her, keeping tabs on her life?’

‘No!’ The man’s voice filled the small room.

Tomek wasn’t listening. Instead, he removed the next sheet from the folder and set it on the table. ‘This is one of the comments we’ve seen: “Wishing I was inside you right now, my angel.” Posted at one thirty-two pm on the twenty-third of January. Pretty grotesque stuff for a lunchtime, wouldn’t you agree?’ He pulled out another sheet, read it, then laid it on top of the first. ‘This one’s a little tamer: “You are the most precious thing in the world to me, my angel.” Also posted at a similar time. And then there’s this one. And this one. And this one.’

And on it went, each time Tomek placing a printout on top of the last, until he came to the last page – the word cloud.

‘You used to call Angelica an angel, didn’t you? It’s quite a common phrase here,’ he said, gesturing to the word cloud. ‘I’ve seen you post the same thing on her Instagram posts and in her direct messages. That was a particular phrase of yours, no?’

‘A lot of people called her that.’

‘How do you know?’

Shawn didn’t answer.

‘Do you recognise any of these comments?’ Tomek asked as he fanned the sheets across the table.

‘No,’ the man replied bluntly.

‘You sure?’

‘Yes.’ He tilted forward in his seat. ‘I’ve never seen those before in my life.’

‘You sure? Don’t you find it interesting that all the comments are posted at a similar sort of time? What time do you usually have lunch when you’re working?’

‘One-ish.’

‘Interesting. And how long did you say you’ve worked at the library?’

‘A couple of years.’

‘Even more interesting.’

Tomek said nothing for thirty seconds. He was waiting for Shawn to nibble on his last comment, but when it didn’t come, he added, ‘Would you like to know why?’

‘No.’

‘Well, I’m going to tell you, anyway. You see, we’ve traced the IP address for these comments, and guess where they’re being posted from.’

Shawn said nothing. Either he was incredibly dense and didn’t know the answer, or he did, in fact, know the answer and was too afraid to admit it.

Tomek pulled out another sheet. On it was a printout of Google Maps street view. He slid the document from the folder and set it down delicately, before prodding his fingernail into the centre of the page.

‘Right there,’ he said. ‘Look familiar?’

Shawn didn’t need to see the document to know where Tomek was referring to.