I think of Katie under her covers insisting she barely knew Jay, the absence of flirtatious texts on Jay’s phone, the way even the fraternity-related messages stopped late in October.

“Not Jay. Colin.”

Colin folds his arms over his chest but can’t help the faint smile that plays on his lips.

Oliver swivels toward me. “Colin and Katie?”

“Cade thought Jay and Katie were together but had only seen them twice, and that was from a distance—after Colin started dressing like Jay.”

I study Colin’s face, wipe away the purplish shadows under his eyes, breathe color back into his sallow skin. Like Jay, he’s handsome in that bland, all-American kind of way. Who would Katie, sweet, beautiful Katie, wind up with? Jay, who viewed girls as fraternity property? Or Colin, the shy and sensitive boy who wanted to make his father proud and got in over his head? I think of the panic attack—real or faked—when I asked Katie if she thought someone might have wanted to hurt Jay. The tears, her refusal to answer our questions—it wasn’t because she was devasted at Jay’s loss. But because Jay was dead, and that could mean only one thing.

“Jay and Katie weren’t keeping their relationship secret,” I say. “Colin and Katie were. And that’s why the other brothers thought Jay was a traitor.” I stare at Colin’s face, impressed by his audacity. “Because Colin told Katie about the basement. And she asked someone about it.” I tap Jay’s transcripts, thinking. “Tripp,” I say, slamming my hand against the table. “Of course.” Colin flinches. “But Tripp assumed her source was Jay. And then he went and blabbed to everyone that Jay was sharing fraternity secrets.”

I think of Jay’s phone password: K8CO. Him apologizing, trying to get Katie to respond to his messages.

“Because Jay, like everyone else, was a little in love with Katie Coleman.” I gaze at Colin, the satisfied curve of his lips. “It must have felt good to sweep away the dream girl from Kap-O,” I muse. “Did you tell her about your and Jay’s agreement? Or just about the basement?”

His smile falters.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “Because Jay knew it was you, and there’s no way he’d uphold your arrangement after that. He wanted out. After all, you failed hell week, the other brothers knew, they would never let you join—”

“Join?” The word explodes out of Colin. “Join? I wanted nothing to do with those assholes. You think Jay wanted out? I wanted out.” He hammers a fist against his chest. Then he screws up his face and slams back in his chair. It grates hard against the linoleum.

“You wanted out?” I repeat. “Then why didn’t you just stop pretending to be Jay? Stop going to his classes? Let him fail—?”

Relief washes over Colin’s face, and I stop talking.