CORMAC ISN’T WORKING when I pick up my coffee but the girl is there, the barista. I stand by the coffee machine.

‘Quiet in here today,’ I say, looking around the cafe.

‘It’s not normally busy on Tuesdays.’

‘Well, I need my fix and I love your coffee.’

She glances up. I can see freckles across her nose and although I can’t see her mouth, her eyes tell me she’s smiling. ‘Thank you, I try my best.’

‘You’ve worked here for while now,’ I note, casually.

‘Too long,’ she says, as the milk steams. ‘But it helps pay the bills while I slave away studying.’

‘Oh, what is it you’re studying?’

‘Acting actually. I’m at Victorian College of Arts.’

‘Great,’ I say. ‘You’ve got the looks for it. Not that that’s the most important thing, of course.’

‘Thanks,’ she says, and her dark eyes tell me she is smiling again. She places the cup down on the counter, pushes a lid onto it and slides it forward.

‘Extra strong latte.’

‘Thank you,’ I say, letting my gaze linger a beat too long on her face, before setting off. She still has a petite frame, despite her curves. She really is gorgeous.

I get to my office and wait for Xanthe. She’s usually early but as the clock ticks towards ten, then past her appointment time I check the lobby again. ‘Did Xanthe call in at all?’ I ask Anna.

‘No,’ she says. ‘She’s due for ten.’

‘Could you call and check how far off she is?’

‘Sure,’ she says.

I wait. I can hear the quiet murmur of the phone ringing, then Xanthe’s voice and a beep.

‘Voicemail,’ Anna says. She moves the mouse, clicks, types. ‘And we don’t have a second number for her. I’ll shoot her a text message and try her again if she’s not here in five.’

I’ve got a bad feeling, a slow simmering in my stomach. In five she won’t be here either. Something is wrong. I wait out in the lobby, reading over the notes in my pad, all those scribbles about Joe, the little observations I made. I read through his family history: working class family of four, father was a butcher, rough, but not abusive. Mother was a nurse, public school education, average intelligence.

I’m playing games less. I take drives at night. I’ve been having nightmares. I hear words like these every day from different clients, but they seem so much darker coming from Joe for some reason. I go to the back of my notebook and read through the information I had collected for my lecture later in the year.