“That’s code for I’m fucking right now so fuck off,” McAdams said.

“Even an old guy like me can figure that out.” He knocked harder. “Police! Open up, Terry.”

“Je-zuz!” Stomping. Then the door flew open. The guy who answered wore boxers but nothing else. “Who the fuck are you?”

The man was tall and built: football player but more a quarterback or a running back than defense. His hair was one step longer than a buzz cut. He had dark eyes, a big brow, and a jutting chin. Decker showed him his badge and brushed against him as he walked inside. McAdams followed. The girl in the bed had pulled the sheet covers to her chin.

The guy said, “You can’t come in without a warrant!”

“You know that because you’ve seen it on TV?” No answer. Decker saw a pile of feminine clothes on the floor. He picked them up and laid them on the bed. “Get dressed under the covers.” Decker turned to the young man. “I need to ask you some questions, Lance, like in right now. Something has happened.”

“What’s going on?” the guy asked. Quieter this time.

“I’m Detective Decker and this is Detective McAdams. We’re from Greenbury Police—”

“Greenbury Police?”

“Yes, Greenbury PD. We’re not from the school so you don’t have to start flushing your joints down the crapper. But we’d like to ask you a few questions about your girlfriend, Angeline Mo—”

“That would be my ex-girlfriend.”

“Right. Ex-girlfriend.” Decker took out a notebook. “Julia Kramer told me that you’ve moved on. Would that be the young lady you’re with?”

A voice peeped out of the sheets. “Yes.” She emerged from the covers like a butterfly shedding a cocoon. She was diminutive in size, dark in hair and eye color. She bounded out of the bed and offered a firm handshake. “Lucy Ramon. What did Angeline do?”

“Do you know her?” Decker asked.

“It’s a small school with an even smaller senior class.”

“What’s going on?” Terry asked. “Did something happen to her?”

Decker nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. She was murdered.”

Lucy gasped. Terry turned ashen. He took a few steps and stumbled. He managed to find the chair and hold on to the splat for support, but he didn’t sit down. “That’s . . .” He shook his head. “It’s that guy she’d been seeing, right? Are you looking into that freak?”

“What do you know about the freak?”

“Not much . . . not much at all.”

“Do you have a name for the freak?”

“John something.”

“C’mon. You know his last name.”

“I can’t think right now.”

“Well, if you think it’s him, I need more of a name than just John.”

“If you lay off, it’ll come to me. Can I get dressed?”

“Fine with us,” McAdams said. “I’m sure you can talk and get dressed at the same time.”