“Right,” White says. “I remember seeing you in there the other day. I guess I was wondering. . . . Has Dr. Hoffman been acting strange recently? Has he said or done anything that would make you think he was having problems?”

Rebecca almost laughs. Everything Hoffman did was strange. His long-winded stories, his political rants. His clothes.

But then she thinks about the question seriously and sees what White might be fishing for. Rebecca remembers going to talk to Hoffman about her thesis and how interested he was in talking about Madeline. Then Dr. Nye pulled her into the alley by Troy’s and wanted to talk about Madeline and that guy at the party and sent her to tell the police all about it.

And last night . . . just over twelve hours ago . . . Hoffman showed up at her house and seemed to be warning her about saying anything else about Madeline.

Is that what Nye and Hoffman were arguing about?

Is that why they went up on the roof together?

Because of Madeline?

Madeline—who dropped that manuscript off on Rebecca’s porch.

With the story at the end about the professor who looked and sounded just like Hoffman.

Rebecca never lies. She hates to do it. Even when she was a kid and did something stupid like steal a cookie or get into her mom’s makeup without permission, she always confessed. She never made up a story or blamed someone else.

But she has no idea what’s going on right now. No idea how she ended up in the middle of these bizarre events. And White is standing over her, his face less friendly than when he first showed up. Now it’s eager, like he thinks she knows something, and he just needs her to admit it to him. And she hasn’t even talked to the police or her parents or Dr. Nye. . . .

“No,” she says, deciding not to mention Hoffman’s visit the night before. “I mean, he’s kind of a weird guy. But . . . that was just the way he acted in class. You know? Kind of . . . eccentric? But he didn’t really say anything else. I’ve been in his class only a few days.”

White leans farther forward, looming over her a little like he’s a tree and she’s in his shade. “So he didn’t do or say anything unusual, inside or outside of class? See, I have to talk to the police because I’m the department head. And they’re going to want to know what the students were thinking or seeing about Dr. Hoffman and Dr. Nye. So you would know very well. Are you sure there’s nothing else to say?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Because it’s very important—”

“Dr. White?”

Both Rebecca and Dr. White turn and look. A police officer stands about twenty feet away, and when they look, he walks toward them.

“Are you Dr. White?” he asks.

“Yes, I am.”