I’ve been up there only once. A few years ago, the giant solar eclipse passed over us, and Preston got his hands on the keys and allowed a few of us to go up and observe from on high. But it’s supposed to be kept locked to prevent drunken students from dangling over the edge or throwing water balloons at passersby.

I reach the third floor and hear the door to the bell tower open above me. Either it’s been left open, or Lance has a key.

I stop for a moment, try to catch my breath. After a few gasping heaves, I will myself forward and go up the last flight. Since it’s rare for anyone to come up here, the steps are dirtier, the air mustier. But I can feel a cold draft as I go higher, meaning Lance left the door open behind him.

Then I worry he’s done something rash.

I finally get there, and the heavy rusted metal door stands wide. I can see the giant bell, the arched cupola surrounding it, and, beyond that, a sweeping view of the surrounding area. The campus buildings give way to the town and then the countryside. Bare trees, rolling hills. It’s beautiful, even in winter.

But I don’t know why I’m here.

“Lance?”

Something scrapes across the way, on the far side of the bell. I see Lance, standing over there, about fifteen feet away, with his hands resting on the metal railing that rings the cupola platform.

It’s cold up here. The wind picks up and lifts my hair.

“What are you doing up here?” I ask. “It’s too cold. Come down and talk to Preston.”

“Preston doesn’t care. You know who he’s looking out for. He can’t help me.”

“Then come down and talk to somebody. A counselor or a lawyer. Whatever you need. Just don’t stand up here. You’re right at the edge, and it’s dangerous.”

I’m still in the doorway, but I take a step out into the tower itself. I immediately feel the vertiginous drop on all sides of me. I see students walking by below us, cars passing on the street. My head whirls, and I reach out, bracing myself against the railing.

“This will ruin me, Connor.” His voice reaches me over the wind. “You’re trying to ruin me.”

“I’m not trying to do anything but get to the truth.” I’m still holding the story, so I wave it around. “Madeline is telling her side here. I’m giving it to the police and the university. We have to listen to it. We have an obligation.”

“You sound like Preston. All his talk about needing to listen to women. All of that crap.”

“He’s right. Don’t you agree?”

“He’s a great talker.”