“Shit,” I say. “There’s a knife missing from my house. The night Madeline came in and hit me with the bottle, it went missing.”

“Was there someone else in your house?” she asks. “Besides Madeline?”

I tell her I think someone else—a man?—stood over me while I was out of it. That the door I thought was left open was then closed. . . .

“You didn’t see this man?” she asks.

“No, I was groggy. It felt like a dream.”

“But the knife is gone?” she asks. “For real?”

“For real. We got them as a wedding present. And one is gone. I had it out because . . . I was afraid of Madeline.”

“That makes things a little stickier,” she says. “But the truth will set you free.” She knocks her fist against the desktop. “We hope. I’ll call you when Bowman is ready. If there are any cops outside your door when you get home, call me.”

“Okay.”

“Connor, if you ran anywhere besides home now, it would look bad. Very, very bad. And I don’t take well to looking bad.”

“I’ve been gone all night. I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“That’s a boy.”

CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

MADELINE

SUMMER, TWO AND A HALF YEARS AGO

Madeline skipped yoga the week after the party.

She knew if she went, Sophia would be there. And they’d talk.

And if they talked, Madeline didn’t want to have to lie. So she skipped.

She hated to do it. Hated to give up everything that wasn’t the endless cycle of work and school. But she spent the early evening reading for class, a story by her friend Isaac in which a man from earth travels through a wormhole in space to another planet where all the males have died. He must repopulate that planet. He called the story “Adam’s Curse,” which was the best thing about it. The guy downstairs started in with his music, the thumping bass lines. It made it tough for Madeline to concentrate, but she didn’t mind. She wanted to be distracted from the terrible story.

Sophia texted just after seven.

Missed you at class. What’s up?

Madeline felt breathless when she read the message. She decided to ignore it, claim she was in the shower or with a study group or that her phone had died. Anything not to talk to Sophia.

No, it wasn’t talking to Sophia that was the problem. It was the inevitable lie she’d have to tell Sophia that was the problem. Madeline hated lying, especially to someone who had been so good to her. Minutes passed. Five. Ten.

Madeline allowed herself to feel relief, felt the air come back into her lungs. Sophia gave up. She let it go and moved on with her life. Next week, Madeline would think of something else. A pulled muscle, a sick grandparent. She’d take the whole thing a week at a time.