Claire couldn’t see his face, but the size looked right. ‘It’s probably Derrick. My roommate’s ex. He’s a stalker.’

‘Want us to go have a little chat?’ Jesse asked, and Claire realised with a start that she was serious about it. ‘Pete?’

‘Always up for a little heart-to-heart chat,’ he said, ‘but Anderson was pretty firm about this thing being a priority. So maybe we leave it for later, okay?’

Jesse hadn’t moved; Derrick had her attention fixed as if she’d been glued down in one direction. She finally sighed and turned her head to give Pete a disappointed look. ‘You take all the fun out of life, you know that?’ Pete shrugged, as if he lived with disappointment, and carried the box down the stairs to the car. Jesse stayed put, still attentive toward Derrick’s silent, still presence across the street, as Claire locked and rechecked the door. ‘Do you have an alarm in there?’

‘No,’ Claire said. ‘I told Liz we need to get one, but she doesn’t think we can afford it.’

‘Better broke than dead,’ Jesse said. ‘I can smell the crazy on that man from here. I have a nose for it.’ In the dim light, a passing car’s lights hit Jesse full in the face, and lit her up like a billboard. Her blue eyes were very, very bright, and for a second Claire had a Morganville déjà vu … but this was the real world, and Jesse was just a badass. Like Pete.

Maybe that was enough.

CHAPTER FIVE

SHANE

I was up to my elbows in hot water.

I don’t mean that figuratively. It was actual hot water, with suds, and I was washing bar glasses. My second full day in Cambridge, and I had a job – crappy as it was – at a place called Florey’s Bar & Grill, although the only thing I’d seen them grill so far had been some burgers and hot wings. It was the kind of place that offered up a food menu small enough to fit on a business card, and a nine-page drinks list.

So even though my official title was dishwasher, I was washing glasses. Every once in a while, there was a plate for variety. Maybe a fork. Not much else.

Like all industrial kitchens everywhere, it was humid, hot and a little nasty; the building was old and had probably seen various owners shilling drinks for at least a hundred years. The plumbing probably hadn’t been significantly upgraded in all that time. Hell, it probably had rats older than me, and maybe bigger, too. When I was done with the glasses – if that ever happened – I’d be expected to mop and scrub the place out.