Madeline straightened her shirt and used the interruption to slide away from the guy and walk out of the alley, heading toward Rebecca and the house.

When she reached Rebecca, she said, “Let’s go. He’s drunk.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good. Thank you. You really helped me out.”

They started walking toward the house together, through the yard, where the grass was mostly dead, and toward the patio, where the three guys were still standing. One of the guys looked up, the one named Isaac. He waved.

“Madeline?” he said. “Want some?”

Madeline just waved and then she put her hand out, stopping Rebecca twenty feet short of the patio.

Rebecca looked back, worried the guy from the alley would be following them. But he was nowhere in sight, which relieved her to no end.

“Seriously,” Madeline said. “Thank you.”

“Are you really okay?”

“I am.” She looked like she was trying to get her breathing under control, like she had been underwater too long. “He’s just . . . I can handle him. Okay?”

“Who was that guy?”

“His name’s Zach Greenfield. He’s just someone I know.”

“Do you want me to call the police?”

“No, don’t do that,” she said. “I don’t know him that well. And he’s drunk.”

“That’s not an excuse. Ever.”

“I know. But look. Do me a favor? I’ve seen these kinds of guys before. Don’t say anything to anyone. He has a wife, and we’re kind of friends. And I wouldn’t want Sophia—her—to know anything about this. Because it’s . . . I just wouldn’t want her to know. Okay?”

“That’s the blond woman. The one who was with you earlier.”

“She wasn’t feeling well and went home. Yes. Can I count on you to keep this quiet?”

Rebecca didn’t like the secrecy, didn’t like going along, covering up that kind of behavior by a guy. But she barely knew Madeline, barely knew anyone in her major yet, and she didn’t want to do anything that might hurt the way people saw her.

Besides, Madeline seemed to have it under control. She gave off the aura of being the kind of person who had everything under control.

“Okay, sure,” Rebecca said.

“Thank you. That really means a lot to me. It’s good to know someone like you has my back. It really is.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Great. Come on, let’s get you another beer.”

CHAPTER FIFTY

CONNOR

PRESENT

Rebecca mostly tells her story to me in a matter-of-fact way. But at certain points, her voice quavers.

She always gets past those wobbles, manages to get back on track and maintain her composure. But her voice tells me all I need to know about how tough it is for her to share this.

When she finishes, she shivers. And I assume it’s not from the cold that swirls around the alley.