The top row of the hanging clothes were T-shirts and jerseys. The bottom row, skirts, jeans, and dresses. Two rows for two different Angelas.

“Not very girly,” Caitlin said.

“She could be when she wanted to be.”

Caitlin’s image of Angela started to flesh out. There was the Angela the world expected her to be and the Angela she was trying out.

“I made a spreadsheet,” Lakshmi said. “All of her clothes—the ones from the closet, anything I found in pictures in the room, on social media.”

“Why?”

“In case she came back or someone came back for her, grabbed more clothes than what she was wearing that night.”

“Anything missing?”

Lakshmi shook her head.

Caitlin saw the weight of the guilt Lakshmi carried on her shoulders, but telling the girl to let go of her dead best friend in the dead best friend’s apartment wouldn’t help anything.

“What time is it?”

Lakshmi checked her phone. “Ten thirty-two.”

Caitlin turned for the door. “Let’s hit the gym.”

*   *   *

Caitlin followed Lakshmi up the thirty steps into the Student Recreational Sports Center. Even the entrance was a workout. The building not only housed a full-size gym every bit as modern as a Hollywood health club, but also basketball and volleyball courts and Pilates, spin, and yoga rooms. After twenty minutes of dodging young, sweaty bodies, Caitlin had seen enough.

A fifty-dollar parking ticket waited under the windshield wiper of her rental.

“Might as well leave it here. Which way would Angela have walked?”

Lakshmi pointed south. A concrete path led to the railroad tracks.

“Perfect,” Caitlin said. “Takes us right by Lennie’s at lunchtime.”

*   *   *

Caitlin dipped her stromboli in marinara and got a nice chunk of Italian sausage and cheese. She was enjoying the experience much more than her previous visit there with Greenwood. “So Angela liked acting?”

Lakshmi munched on a roasted carrot. “She liked the people we met in the Theater Department. She didn’t find a lot of creativity in her other courses.”

“Were you in her class?”

“No, I took the first level my freshman year. I thought it might help if I ended up in broadcasting. Each class started with a massage circle. Who doesn’t want that? Plus, great professor. One of those brooding grad students, you know?”

“Did Angela get the broody professor?”

“Totally. Chad Branford. So cool.”

“Is that where she met Kieran and David?”

Their names transformed the relaxed young woman into a defensive tiger. “No, she met them where you meet all the d-bags—the gym. They were playing on the girl’s basketball court.”

“There’s a girl’s court? Like segregation?”

“Sort of. There’s a limited number of courts, so they reserve one as a priority slot for women. Anyway, we showed up ready to play, and they didn’t want to leave, so Angela challenged them to two on two—whoever won got the court.”