Janisa had lived with her parents in San Juan until she was nineteen. Then, two years ago, she’d run away to the US to marry a girl she’d met on the internet. Now Janisa and her wife lived in Maryland, just one state away from Mateo’s family. Last year, Mateo’s little sister Cassie had asked if the family could invite Janisa down for a visit. Mateo’s mother had spat into the sink where she was washing dishes and said she didn’t know what Cassie was talking about. There wasn’t any Janisa in their family.

“I heard you left a message for Dean Cumberland,” Ross said.

Mateo turned back to his phone and opened his email. Nothing except ads.

“Yeah,” Mateo said. “I need to talk to him.”

“How about you talk to me?” Ross said.

Mateo looked up. “I said I need to talk to him.”

Ross nodded. The condescending patience on his face made Mateo shift his eyes down again.

“I know, but you’ve got to understand, he’s got a lot going on right now,” Ross said. “He’s got a lot of worried parents to deal with, not to mention all the calls he’s been getting from the media. So he asked me to talk to you instead. Or if you’d rather meet with a counselor, I can set that up.”

One of those grief counselors? Yeah, right. Mateo wasn’t going to go cry on the shoulder of some middle-aged lady in a too-tight blouse.

“Fine.” Mateo shifted around on the trunk so he could see out the window. It looked so different in the daytime. The sun shone brightly on the hill where he’d spotted Delilah that night, spread out across the dark grass. “I think the police should reopen the case on Delilah.”

Behind him, Ross coughed twice. “Pardon?”

“I have information that I think could make a difference.” Mateo’s eyes traced the pristine campus. The perfectly manicured lawn. The lake shimmering in the distance. “Delilah wasn’t alone that night. She went to Lennox with someone else. She had drugs on her when she fell, but that same person took them out of her purse and flushed them down the toilet while Delilah was lying on the ground.”

The feeling of a hand on his shoulder made Mateo leap to his feet. He had a fist pulled back, ready to throw a punch, when Ross took a big step backward and held up his hands.

“Whoa!” Ross said. “Sorry!”

All the adrenaline rushed out of Mateo at once. “Whatever, man.” He sank back onto the chair.

“Listen,” Ross said, his hands still raised. “I’m not going to lie. This is serious. If you confess now, though, maybe it won’t be that big a deal. We’ll call the police, and I’ll let the dean know, and—”