This is not in the least bit true. I’ve interviewed people at gravesites, basketball games, even hospital rooms. But we nod, both of us, eyes humbly on our shoes.

He waits, seems satisfied with our contrition, and then continues. “I’ve spoken with Jay’s parents.” His voice deflates a bit. Informing the parents is never easy. Doesn’t matter how young, old, close, estranged, or otherwise. That’s the part you hand off if you can. I feel Teddy shift. We’re both wondering why Truman took this upon himself. “They arrive the day after tomorrow.”

The phone starts to ring.

“God damn it,” he swears. “And close that door behind you,” he yells at me.

Oliver’s got his cell cradled beneath his ear. What’s up? he mouths to Teddy.

Teddy, bless him, just shrugs.

Back at my desk, a large spreadsheet illuminates my computer screen. I cast an accusatory glance at Oliver, but he’s oblivious, now deep in conversation with whomever’s on the other line.

I hit Print and march over to the gray hulking machine that probably outdates Amy for the oldest piece of work in the building.

“All right, got the call logs,” I tell Teddy, and begin scanning the list. “Wow.”

“What?”

“I mean, look at this. Good thing most cell plans are unlimited these days.” I shake my head in amazement. “Jay was on the phone all the time. When did he eat?”

Teddy scans the list with the tip of his finger. “I recognize this number.”

“Katie?”

“Tripp.” He frowns. “There are a bunch of seven-oh-six and four-oh-four numbers though.”

I sigh. Athens and Atlanta area codes. “Could be anyone.”

“But if you had to guess?”

“Fraternity brothers for sure.”

He leans over my shoulder as I keep reading. “All right, now we’re in the middle of August, huge uptick; I swear between texts and calls, there are almost a hundred a day.” I breathe through my nose. “Got it,” I say, and double-check the number written on Teddy’s card. “August thirty-first. It’s a Saturday.”

“Who calls whom?”

“He texts her.”

Teddy drums his fingers on my desk. “So he got her number at a party. Texts her the next day.”

“Maybe. He could have got it earlier though and waited to text her. Either way, there goes her ‘we barely knew each other’ bullshit.”

“Be good to know what they’re saying. Otherwise she’ll insist it’s ‘dream girl’ fraternity business.”

“Dara says she’ll send the transcripts as soon as she has them.” I stare at the list. “That’s strange.”

“What?”

I flip pages back and forth. “So in September, Jay’s calling people all day long, and then starting the middle of October—” I draw arrows with my pen.

“What?”

“No calls or texts between three and four P.M.”

“Maybe he had class.”

“That didn’t start until October?”