Pete wasn’t stupid, and his eyes narrowed and turned flinty-dark as he reached for the telephone. ‘Jesse’s not the problem here.’

‘Jesse’s a vampire. Whether or not she’s trouble, she’s proof that there could be others out here who aren’t so well behaved. You hang out with her … you know how dangerous she can be. Right?’

‘She’s one of the least dangerous people I know, because she does exactly what she means to do, every time. She’s never lost control of herself, not even once. Can’t say that for a lot of humans.’ He held up a finger to pause the conversation, and ordered a pizza delivery. He didn’t ask what they wanted, which Claire thought was probably fair enough; they’d abused his hospitality a bit, though he probably hadn’t expected anything else. Once he’d hung up, he went right back to the subject at hand. ‘I swear to God, if your troubles drag her out into any kind of real trouble, the ass-kicking you got last night will be a love tap, and I will use your skull for a hockey puck.’

Shane considered that for a second in silence. Claire could tell he took Pete seriously, despite the differences in their height. Whatever fighting skills Pete had, clearly Shane had seen them and respected them. ‘Understood,’ he said. ‘But I don’t think any of it’s Claire’s fault. It seems like Jesse’s in deep with this Dr Anderson, and the government piece is coming from there. Cops, I’ve got no idea. I didn’t break any laws.’

‘She did,’ Pete said, and nodded toward Claire. ‘They’re saying you might have killed your roommate. And that Shane helped you. And by the way, your weapons stash doesn’t make you look any less guilty of that.’

‘I didn’t kill anybody,’ Claire said. ‘Liz was abducted. Shane saw them. And Jesse’s trying to trace the van. Look, Shane’s got pictures.’

Shane pulled them up on the phone and held them out, and Pete looked them over. He seemed accepting of that, at least; he handed it back without comment except a nod. Then he went into the kitchenette and got out paper plates. ‘Beer?’ he asked them. ‘I’m not going to card you. That’s the day job.’

‘I’ll have one,’ Shane said, just as Claire said no; it wasn’t that she was some kind of anti-alcohol crusader, she just didn’t like beer, overall. Pete brought her a Coke instead, and then he settled in the small armchair off to the side of the couch. They all watched the TV flicker on in silence, a cold substitute for a fire, and finally Shane said, ‘So, I guess you two already know each other, but Pete, this is Claire, my—’