emigrated to Australia, where he’d died.
Adam’s sad, squalid little story made Jilly unaccountably dejected as she let herself into her flat that evening. Pictures of him had been few and far between, and those she’d found had been grainy and blurred. He didn’t turn up for photo shoots, et cetera; his partner had handled all that side of things. Why? No comments from anyone who knew him pegged him as any kind of sociopath or embarrassment. He was never even described as reclusive until fairly close to his meltdown, when it had probably been an attempt to hide his decline from the public.
Whatever, she couldn’t either confirm or deny the identity of whoever it was who’d accosted her in the Ewans’ house claiming to be called Adam.
Her phone rang just as everyone was packing up for the day. Although she didn’t recognise the number, she answered it.
“Hi, is that Jilly?” came a man’s voice.
“Who’s that?” she returned.
“Dave. Dave Jenner. We met at the Theatre Bar on Friday night.”
Jilly racked her brain. She’d met up with a couple of geek friends after work on Friday, and when Sera and Blair had joined them, somehow there had been a whole lot of people drinking and talking together at the same table. It had, Jilly recalled, been quite fun at the time, even though she’d suspected Blair of hunting up some dinner. It wasn’t easy when your friend’s lover was a vampire, not least because no one would believe you if you warned them.
“Hello?” came Dave’s voice again, with just a hint of anxiety.
“Aye, so we did,” Jilly replied, which seemed to flummox Dave.
“Um, how are you?” he hazarded.
“Fine. How’s yourself?” Jilly carried on stuffing her laptop into her bag, wondering what the devil he wanted. She had a vague recollection of speaking to him toward the end of the night, of him writing down her phone number. He must have been all right, or she wouldn’t have given him it.
“Good,” Dave said brightly. “Just about to leave work, wondered if you fancied a quick drink?”
Jilly, who’d already planned a more intensive date with her computer, opened her mouth to refuse. Then she imagined her sad evening further investigating the even sadder decline and fall of the ingenious Genesis Adam, and the rise and rise of his successful if haunted ex-partner.
Hell, she needed a pick-me-up. And maybe Dave was nice. Maybe he was very nice.
“Okay,” she agreed. “Just the one, though. I’ve got stuff to do.”
“Me too,” Dave said. “One’s fantastic. Is the Theatre Bar okay for you again, or would you rather go somewhere else?”
“No, the Theatre Bar’s fine. See you there in half an hour,” Jilly said. Which should give her time to get a quick one in before he turned up. Most men were easier to bear after a couple of drinks.
She disconnected and dropped the phone in her jacket pocket.
“Date?” Sera murmured, stopping by her desk with eyebrows raised.
“One of those blokes in the pub on Friday. Dave something. Jenner. D’you know him?”
“Not really. One of his friends was giving Blair the eye.”
“Nothing to what Blair gave him, I’m sure,” Jilly muttered.
Sera threw her scarf at her. “You can’t be suspicious of everyone all the time,” she said. And Jilly had the feeling she wasn’t just talking about Blair’s biting proclivities. They were grown-ups now, heading for thirty. No one—or, at least, hardly anyone—was out to hurt them anymore.
Sera’s lips quirked. “Have fun,” she said.
****
And at first, Jilly did. Dave was a smart, good-looking bloke, an IT developer who worked in an office close to the Playhouse. And they did have a mutual acquaintance in her secret hacker friend Henry, who earned his living in the same office as Dave. It made Jilly more comfortable in his presence. He was polite, bought her a drink, paid her compliments, and if he didn’t want to talk computers, well, at least his chatter was vaguely amusing. He didn’t even complain when she bought him a drink back, even though she was still sipping the one he’d paid for.
And when she rose to go, she found she was almost sorry. “Thanks for the drink,” she said sincerely. “Just what I needed.”
“Me too,” he said, downing the last of his beer and getting to his feet. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“No need. I’m walking home.”
“I’ll give you a lift,” he offered, striding beside her to the door of the pub.
Although it was dark and cold outside, and it looked as if rain,