I scratch a phantom itch behind my ear. This is not how I wanted the conversation to go. I’m feeling petulant, not getting the response I want from Teddy. Not even sure what I’m looking for. I guess a part of me was hoping he’d launch into how horrible Oliver was and how Truman’s making his life miserable and everything’s going to shit without me. But even if it were true, it’s not like Teddy to say so. He’s Mr. Positive. Won’t say a bad word about anyone.

He looks everywhere except my face and his gaze falls on the folder.

“Is that—” He glances at me quickly and then away again. “That’s from the Kemp case.”

“I swiped it this morning.”

He sighs and shakes his head.

“I told Truman he wasn’t doing you any favors giving you time off. That you’d be more stressed sitting around your parents’ house than at the station.” He hesitates. We’ve worked together long enough for him to know that I hate the question, “Are you okay?” But it’s there, in the way he lets the sentence linger, in the thoughtful sips of his coffee: he’s worried about me.

I take a breath. This isn’t about me, I remind myself, it’s about Jay.

“Remember how long Jay’s phone records were?”

He flicks the call sheet with his finger. “My eyes are still sore from reading them.” A small smile.

“Right? So Jay’s making calls all day—writing hundreds of messages—until a month before he dies.”

“I don’t remember there being any fewer messages—”

“A month before he dies, there’s a gap between three and four.”

“He was in class—”

“He wasn’t. Remember? We checked his class schedule. And being in class didn’t seem to stop him anyway. He had some kind of compulsion or something—unless he was asleep, every other minute he’s sending messages.”

“So?” Teddy sighs, deciding to play along. “Why the gap?”

“He was at the gym.”

We’re both seeing his room, gym clothes, Gatorade bottles. It was so obvious, we missed it.

“Okay, that’s great, Mar, but—”

I’m literally on the edge of my seat, I’m so eager to wipe the concerned, patronizing expression off Teddy’s face and to bring out Jay’s second phone with a ta-da-style flourish—when I hear a familiar voice.

“Marlitt?”

My eyes flicker to the dark-haired guy striding toward our table.

“Oliver,” I say, and glare at Teddy. So much for our private conversation.

Oliver rounds the booth.

“Teddy?” he sounds surprised. “Great minds, huh?” A flash of something, and then it’s gone. “I needed something better than the emergency pot today. Can I grab you guys anything?” He’s walking to the bar, but the offer makes it clear he’s coming back.