“Yes, he is,” Larkin answered. Jessica was smiling at him when he returned his attention to her. “May I ask you another question about Andrew.”

“Okay.”

“Tell me how he broke his nose.”

She lowered the glass sharply, amber liquid sloshing. “How would you know that?”

“Autopsy reports and facial reconstruction.”

“They might be wrong.”

Larkin frowned at her suggestion. He retrieved his phone, pulled up the profile from NamUs, and showed Jessica. “You supplied this photo.”

Jessica’s shoulders drooped and she nodded meekly. “Yeah…. God, his nose looks so fucked-up in that picture.”

“How’d it happen.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. We’d been roommates for a few months and it was right before graduation. Andy had seen a few guys senior year, so I guess I assumed one of them got rough with him. But when I’d asked the first time he came home all bloody, he’d only say, ‘Jessie, baby, don’t worry about it.’” She looked down, tilted the glass, and watched the whiskey catch the overhead light on its surface. “I guess I should have worried.”

“You’re certain this happened before meeting his jewelry-designer friend.”

“Oh yeah,” Jessica answered confidently. “Like I said, it was shortly after we moved in together. Andy didn’t meet What’s-His-Name for another half a year? I guess it was more like a month or so before he disappeared that they met….”

“Was Andrew involved in anything illegal.”

“Like what, drugs?”

“That’s a start.”

“God, no. He drank, but he waited until his twenty-first birthday. I don’t think he’d ever even smoked a cigarette. Andy was a good boy.”

Larkin considered, then tried, “Did he know anyone who worked for Parks and Recreation.”

Jessica’s brow furrowed in sincere confusion. She slowly shook her head. “No. At least, I don’t think so.”

“Which room was Andy’s.” Larkin motioned over Jessica’s shoulder.

“The office.”

“Did you keep any of his belongings.”

Jessica stared at the open doorway, as if looking for an answer somewhere in the dimness beyond. “Some photographs. I think I still have his copy of The Idiot. I tried to give some of his belongings back to his parents when I realized he… he probably wasn’t going to come home, but they didn’t want any of it. The rest—clothes and furniture—I donated.”

“His parents—”

Jessica was shaking her head. “I’d have no idea how to get in contact with them today. You might have some luck, being a cop, but they didn’t want anything to do with Andy, you understand?”

“I do. May I see the photos you’ve kept.”

“Sure.” Jessica set her glass on the counter and went to the bedroom.

Doyle didn’t look up from his sketch as he asked, his voice low, “What’re you fishing for?”

“I don’t know.” Larkin approached the table.