Once, about ten years ago, I was standing at a busy intersection near my apartment, trying to hail a taxi into town. It was a Thursday evening and darkness was falling, and all the passing taxis were occupied. I stood at the edge of the kerb to get the best view in all directions. Once or twice, I met the eyes of car drivers as they slowed to turn left. Then a large black jeep, a Range Rover, approached. There was something tentative about the way it slowed and something familiar about the shape of the driver that made my heart jump. I was sure it was him. I tried not to look, but as it drew level the passenger window slid down, and the man's eyes met mine. It was not Kevin. The man looked directly into my eyes, strangely, intently, and then suddenly I knew what he wanted. I shrank back and turned and hurried along the footpath to a bus stop, with nothing left in my legs but terror.