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looks down at his white-knuckled hands gripping the wheel and then in the rearview mirror. “I couldn’t see her, but I heard her. She was somewhere in the back room.”

“What was she doing there?” Kate repeats her question since we’re still waiting for an explanation.

“I don’t know,” he says curtly. His expression morphs to one of concern although his voice is still harsh as he admits, “She came to my office yesterday.” I can’t manage a response. My hands start to shake, and I force them into fists.

“I swear it’s the first time I've seen her since we ended it,” he adds, and his voice is less harsh. Instead it's laced with apprehension. He gives me a nervous glance, as if he's gauging whether or not I believe him. I feel dizzy and nauseated; I lean my head against the cold window in a feeble attempt to steady myself.

“And when did you end it?” I ask him accusingly, feeling pricks at the back of my eyes.

“A long time ago, I swear! Years ago. And I haven’t seen her since… until yesterday.” His voice is low and sincere. I don’t look at him; I keep my head down to avoid his gaze. My head is throbbing. I want to believe every word that he says. But it just doesn’t add up.

“We dated years ago. It was just a good time.”

I slam my head back in my seat and roll my eyes.

Kate scoffs at his response, “A good time? Really?”

She lets out a spiteful laugh. “That insane bitch is in my house right now!” She’s pissed, really pissed. “Who just walks into someone’s house?”

“The police are on their way,” he says and searches for her eyes in the rearview mirror. “Michael is taking care of it.” He sounds apologetic.

“Tell me everything right now,” I demand. “I want to know everything.”