“I want you to understand that it’s always dangerous to talk about things that are more complex than you understand. That people can get hurt when the wrong things are said. Even if you talk about one person, it can reflect poorly on another person as well. There’s a ripple effect. Do you know anything else about Madeline? Anything else about what she might have been doing back here in town?”

Hoffman looks taller than he is. He seems to be looking down on her, waiting for an answer.

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am.”

“You didn’t see her since she’s been back? Outside of the thing at the library.”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Good, good. It’s best that we keep some things to ourselves. And I really am looking forward to working with you on your thesis. You’ve dodged the bullet on working with Dr. Nye, I think. You know he was the last person to see Madeline before she disappeared two years ago. And I wouldn’t be surprised if his name came up with this recent unpleasantness. That’s really what I’m worried about. I was just talking to a friend of mine about this earlier, as we had some drinks. How does Dr. Nye’s behavior affect the students? Or others in the community? Would you want to work on a thesis with someone like that? I’ve had to jump in and help on other theses when he dropped the ball. I’ve had to clean up his messes behind his back. And try not to bruise his pride, which, I suspect, is fragile as glass. For all we know, Rebecca, we’re going to find out that Dr. Nye is the person we should all be concerned about. And afraid of. Not my friend.”

“I just want to get my thesis finished.”

“And you will. I think it’s going to be a good one, don’t you? And we all want to make sure you pass it and are able to graduate in May. Right?”

“I definitely want to.”

“Good.”

Hoffman takes two steps forward, closing the distance between them, and reaches out with his right hand, placing it on Rebecca’s shoulder. It feels heavy, like a weight. He’s about to say something else when Rebecca hears the door open behind and above her.

“Rebecca?”

She turns and looks.

It’s Mikaila, out on the landing in her T-shirt and shorts, her long hair lifted by the breeze.

“Are you coming back in?” she asks. “We want to finish that movie we were watching.”

“I’m coming,” Rebecca says. “I’m coming right now.”

She slips out from underneath Hoffman’s hand and backs toward the stairs.

“Thanks for coming by, Dr. Hoffman. I guess . . . in class . . . I’ll see you there.”

“Of course,” he says.