My heart’s pounding. This could be it. Pay up? Sounds a lot like gambling to me. And no one said anything about Michael and Jay not getting along. I think of Michael’s smug face, the curl of his lip when he looked at Teddy. My spine tingles, and I pull the notes closer.

I want it to be Michael. But the desire sends off alarm bells in my head. Teddy always says there’s a difference between intuition and dislike. Still, I can’t help but imagine leading Michael out of that overlarge brick house in handcuffs under the shocked stares of his brothers. The reporters getting a particularly unflattering shot of him on the way to the car—his face plastered all over the news—

The heater groans, breaking my fantasy.

Not now, I think. I can relish that moment later and for real if we get him. And, I remind myself, his alibi checked out. We even got in touch with the blonde. It took us a couple of hours to identify her—apparently Michael got double points for hooking up with a girl no one knew—a soft-spoken freshman at Georgia Tech who was visiting friends for the weekend and was absolutely mortified by my phone call. But she confirmed she was with Michael all night and left the house around ten that morning.

I scan the next few pages looking for Katie’s number.

Found her.

Text from Jay: Great meeting you last night.

Katie: You too! So exciting to be up for dream girl.

Jay: Don’t tell anyone but I think it’s you.

Katie: Really?!?! So excited!!!

A week later.

Katie: I won!!!

Jay: Congrats!! You totally deserve it.

More texts about upcoming parties. Katie telling him how many sisters she plans on bringing. Apparently, they all baked pies and cookies for some event, and the brothers were going to judge who was the best southern homemaker. I mime throwing up and keep reading. Nothing. Not one text that indicates they were a couple. A few flirtatious: “You looked great tonight.” Coconut emojis. “Thanks,” kissy face, “made the top myself.” But none of the can’t-wait-to-see-you, you’re-my-everything-but-we-have-to-keep-this-a-secret kind of texts I was hoping for.

Then, a month ago, on October 13, a text from Jay to Tripp: Someone’s been in my room.

Tripp immediately defuses the situation: Prob drunk bro got confused. Thought it was his.

Jay, not convinced: Whoever it was went through my things.

Tripp: Woah. No one would do that.

Jay, two hours later: Prob right. Sorry. Stressing about the party.

A million more texts about the Halloween party. They turned the place into a huge haunted house with themed rooms, assigned costumes, and everything. But otherwise, nothing weird. No more references to the strange visitor. Even a handful of exchanges with Michael about the expenses. But no more texts to Katie. No more threats from Michael.