In the kitchen, I set out the cheese and crackers I’d brought. Theresa emerged from the bathroom as I was slicing the Monterey Jack. She was pale, with dark circles under her eyes that I hadn’t noticed in the dimmer basement light. Maybe I wasn’t the only one not sleeping well.

“Hey, can you help me for a sec?” I asked as she passed.

She picked up a knife and started cutting next to me at the counter.

“Everything okay?” I asked. “You seem quiet today.”

Theresa dropped the knife and crossed her arms. “How come you didn’t tell me you guys were friends with Greg’s wife?”

“What?” I hadn’t been expecting that. I squeezed a stack of crackers, and they crumpled between my fingers.

She picked up the knife again and began cutting very aggressively. “The Ivy Five. I saw a picture in the shed.” Each time the knife smacked into the cutting board I gave a little jump.

“That was ages ago,” I said, caught off-guard. I’d been looking for a way to bring up Jackie, and Theresa had gone and done it for me. But it was irritating that it wasn’t on my terms—I’d have to guide the conversation back under my control. “And now we have you in our group.” I smiled, but she continued the hack-slicing. Why would it bother her so much that we were once friends with her professor’s ex-wife?

“I’m just surprised you guys never told me the connection.”

Well, we were too busy trying to find out if she was stalking us.

“Actually, the weird thing is—I was about to ask you about her,” I said truthfully. “We must be on the same wavelength.”

“Me? Why?” Theresa put the knife down again, and I subtly stuck it in the sink.

“Well.” I put on a tragic expression. “It’s kind of complicated, but I need to talk to her. And I can’t seem to get in touch with her. But since you know Greg so well, I thought...”

“Oh I don’t know her at all,” she said. Defensive tone. “I mean, we were at their house a few times as a class, but I only spoke a couple of words to her.”

I frowned. Rearranged the cheese. “Okay. That’s too bad. I really hoped you’d be able to help.” I waited, wondering if I should give the message more time to get through. How’s the Post thing going, Theresa?

“I wish I could. I do,” Theresa said. She ran her fingers through her still-damp curls, looking disconcerted.

I started scrubbing Theresa’s knife with Pia’s dish soap. “Never mind,” I said. “I can try to find someone else. I just feel like I owe it to Ellen...”

“Ellen?” Theresa’s voice rose. “Did something happen?”