Then, the door opened again, and Claire and Pete stepped out. As Claire locked up, I drank in the sight of her like water in the desert … damn, she looked good. Still the same girl who’d kissed me a few days ago. She hadn’t changed at all – but then, had I really expected her to, in such a short time?

Pete had a bulky-looking box in his thick arms, and he carried it down to Jesse’s car. Don’t get in, I thought, watching Claire. Danger. C’mon. I know you have better instincts than that.

But she got in the car, and it pulled out, heading for parts unknown. I mounted the motorcycle and took off after them, hanging back enough in traffic to be sure I wasn’t remarkable. Plenty of students cruising around on similar rides, so I didn’t stand out.

Sure enough, the drive ended up at the building where Dr Anderson worked, and Claire did her studies. A dead end – ha – because I damn sure couldn’t go strolling in, or I’d definitely risk coming face-to-face with Claire and have an uncomfortable conversation about what I was doing there, exactly. It would start with I was worried about you and end with her (probably rightly) saying I told you I needed to do this on my own.

I considered for a bit, then decided to head back to the bar. I could still grab a decent dinner before it was back to the regular kind of hot water.

For no damn good reason, I took the way back that led past Claire’s row house, and as I slowed down, I saw a guy trying to open the door. I say ‘trying’ because he clearly wasn’t having any luck. He had what might have been a key in his hand, but I didn’t think so. He was also bigger than I was, and I didn’t think he should have any business jimmying my girlfriend’s door, so I pulled in, jumped off the bike, stood on the bottom step to block his path, and said, ‘Hey, something I can do for you there, buddy?’

He whipped around, and I saw the fury and fear mixed together before it all smoothed into a bland, but still somehow unpleasant, mask. ‘What’s your problem?’ he barked at me, and flexed his shoulders to show me his muscle-guns were loaded. I remained unimpressed. ‘Just having some trouble with my key. Had a break-in last week, had to change the locks, this one sticks.’

One thing about liars, they can never resist the opportunity to take it just a step too far. If he’d just left it at the first part about the key, it might have been believable, but he just kept talking, and that proved he was making it up.

Plus, of course, he didn’t live there. Obviously, that gave it away.