Preston leans forward, reaching for the envelope. He places his hands on either side of it, scooping it up. But before he can lift it, I place my hand, palm down, on top of the bundle, preventing him from raising it.

He looks over at me.

“Before you look at it,” I say, “I have one question.”

He stops trying to lift it. Our hands are close together but don’t touch.

“What is it?” he asks.

“It’s about Lance,” I say. “Do you remember that night, the second anniversary of Emily and Jake dying, and the two of us went out drinking? You said you knew Lance was crossing the line and there was only so much you could do to protect him. Do you remember that?”

“I knew Lance had some problems. Yes. The parties . . . He was reckless. And it clearly ended up biting him in the ass. And led to terrible, tragic consequences for everyone. For two young women.”

“Did you know about him and Madeline? That he was sexually harassing her as he helped her with her thesis?”

“Like I said, Lance had a lot of problems. None of it is a complete shock to me. And I bear a certain measure of responsibility for that. If I’d stepped in with a firmer hand, if I’d been tougher, then maybe a lot of this could have been prevented. I was blinded by my friendship for him. Someone in a position of authority can’t let that happen. And I need to reevaluate how I do my job going forward. I’m scheduled to meet with the dean and the provost tomorrow.”

“That’s good,” I say.

“It isn’t going to be a pretty meeting, but let’s hope something positive can come of all of this. If we all grow more aware and more vigilant, maybe we can prevent it.”

He reaches for the manuscript again, and again I place my hand on top of it, holding it down. This time Preston looks irritated with me.

“What are you doing, Connor?”

“Did you know Sophia Greenfield?” I ask. “Personally?”

Now Preston leans back, pulling away from the envelope on the table and from me. He blinks a few times.

“Why are you asking me that, Connor?”

“Did you?”

“No, I did not know Sophia Greenfield. How could I?”

I wait a moment, my hand still on the envelope. “You know that Madeline wrote a short story about Lance when she came back to town and left it for me. That’s how I knew Lance had been harassing her. That’s why I went to campus today. Once I read that story, it all fit.”

“I’m with you so far,” he says.