Teddy glances at the two-way mirror—the lie, I caught it, too.

“Really?” Teddy asks. “Yeah, there are a few to and from that number, so we were curious about that one.” He leans in, trying to meet Tripp’s eyes. “I’m surprised you don’t recognize it.”

Tripp rearranges his face, but his foot is pulsing frantically now, and he’s staring at me—or rather, his own reflection in the mirror.

“Why?” he asks. And then slowly, “Who is it?”

Teddy waits. One second. Two. Until Tripp turns his gaze back to him.

“Katie Coleman. The Kap-O dream girl? I would have thought you’d have her number—with you being fraternity president, and her bringing you guys … breakfast … and such.”

“Oh, yeah, I have it. I just … I didn’t think to look for hers—I thought they were all brothers’ numbers.”

His eyes are on the call log.

He didn’t know.

“There’s something else, too,” Teddy says. His voice has dropped, low and soft, and his finger has found the final page, the number at the bottom.

“You were the last person Jay messaged. Did you know that?”

Tripp shakes his head.

“Do you remember what he said? It might be important.”

“Oh.” Tripp’s eyebrows draw together. “I think it was about the Auburn game. Jay was social chair, so he was always messaging about events—tailgates, cookouts, movie nights. He was really hands-on. Always giving the brothers something to look forward to.” Tripp smiles sadly.

“Do you remember exactly what he said?” Teddy leans forward, his voice almost a whisper. “If he had any idea at all that something bad might happen, or someone might be after him, it could be written in a way to let us know.”

“I don’t—” Tripp’s eyes are wide. “I think it was just ‘talk to Mike.’ That’s it.”

“Michael Williams?”

“Yeah…”

“Talk to him about what?”

“It was probably about the party budget. I don’t know how that could be—”

“You mind if I take a look?”

“Oh, I—” Tripp pulls his phone back fast. “I, um, deleted it, sorry.”

Teddy’s brows come together. “Really? Why?” His voice stays neutral, only curious, but Tripp senses danger anyway.

“Just, storage, you know. I have a lot of photos and needed to make room…”

He may be one of the worst liars ever, but it doesn’t matter. Because like an answered prayer, my phone buzzes. Text from Dara. “Check your inbox. Full transcripts. Happy reading.” Followed by a kissy-face emoji.

Right, I think. Go time.