“So he’s a good fake. Fraternity houses have files of all kinds of stuff—old tests, math assignments, and there are websites where you can pay someone to write an essay for you.”

I shake my head. “My mother says she can always tell when students cheat, even if she doesn’t report them. The style, language, content—she’s read enough student papers over the years to know the difference.”

“So what? You think Jay stayed in his room writing a paper all weekend and Michael went fishing with someone else? Or he just made the whole story up?”

“I don’t know. But we have two conflicting accounts of what Jay did last weekend and I want to know why.”

Teddy massages the side of his jaw. “Yeah, all right,” he says finally. “But Marlitt…”

I hunch my shoulders instinctively. “I’m fine,” I say, hearing the knife-edge of defensiveness in my voice. “Really, I just needed air. All that cologne and—” I feel the whirr of the breeze, accelerating cars speeding by, snippets of voices through open windows. “Let’s just figure this one out quick,” I grumble. “I’m sick of Greek life already.”

“But it’s only the first day of rush,” Teddy jokes.

“Right,” I say, as I get in the car. “I won’t be holding my breath for any invitations.”

It’s five o’clock and the light’s sliding down the station windows. Truman’s gone. He left a sticky note on Teddy’s computer to call him with updates.

“Coffee?”

“Thank god,” I say, pushing a handful of photos off my desk. “If I have to look at one more white guy with a swoop haircut in fucking Sperrys I’m going to gouge my eyes out.”

Teddy ignores this, but I feel his gaze on the back of my neck. “Any identical twins?”

“They’re all fucking identical,” I grumble. It’s not true. Not entirely, anyway, but all that conformity makes my skin crawl. “There’s one or two who look close. Same build, hair color. Eyes are different, but if our witnesses just had a split second to catch his face, I could see how they could be mistaken for Jay.”

“Right. Let’s talk to them after dinner.”

I swear Teddy orients his day around meals, even if all he has time to eat is a protein bar.

“Why not now?”

“I have a security guard coming in. Says he’s got something about the frat we should know.”

I must look impressed.

“What?” He raises an eyebrow. “You think you’re the only one with connections around here?”

“A lot of good that did us,” I say moodily. Poking around the university, talking to Jay’s professors and classmates, got us nowhere. I flip over another photo—red hair, freckles, sloppy smile—not our guy.