I wander around, catch up with some mates, drink some beer. No rush. I have all day until I pick up Mia on her way home.<br/><br/>I notice my phone pinging but I ignore it. There's nothing so urgent that it can't wait. Eventually, in a bar around lunchtime I pick up my messages. A frantic series of incoherent texts from Mia demanding to know where I am and what I saw.<br/><br/>The story emerges from her incoherent voice mails.<br/><br/>I have to cover myself, so I text back that I did not see anyone around, but that I was out of sight of the apartment. I promise to go back and check around outside, which I do, but there is nothing to find.<br/><br/>I report back but she insists that I accompany her home. No tailing her as before. She wants me alongside her so that whoever is watching her knows she has me around to protect her.<br/><br/>She appears strong in the streets, but as soon as the door of her apartment shuts behind us, she collapses.<br/><br/>She insists that I check the latch on her window, as she is convinced that it has been tampered with, but I can find nothing wrong. I give it an oil and tries it. It now works smoothly and silently.