Lucas actually did feel better talking it all out. “I appreciate your time.”

“Stop by anytime.”

Lucas left and walked across campus to the recording studio. Hoping to see if he might spot or identify the person who’d dropped off the anonymous letter, he’d already asked campus police if he could look at the building’s security cameras; they’d said no. If there was a crime committed, they would review the footage. There was only one CCTV camera at the main door.

Entering the studio, Lucas saw a group was working in the main conference room, some sort of planning session. Pizza and sodas littered the table in front of them. He waved and continued on. The studio had the recording light on, so he passed it by. At the end of the hall, he turned right and unlocked his office door.

He grabbed a granola bar from his top drawer and munched as he checked his email. Nothing in any of the messages that might help him with his timeline of Candace’s disappearance.

He kept thinking about the anonymous letter. Its writer knew more than what was on the paper. Lucas needed to talk to her, to convince her to share the details with him.

Spontaneously, he opened his web page editor and posted a message at the top of the main page, where all visitors would see it.

To the person who contacted me after Tuesday’s episode: we need to talk. Pick the time and place, and let me know. * Lucas

Before he could change his mind, he hit Upload.

A knock on his door made him jump.

He opened the door.

“Lizzy.”

“Scare ya?” she said with a laugh and handed him a bag from Crumbl Cookies.

He took the bag, at first confused. “You got me cookies?”

“I was out with my roomie, and we walked by. I was just lucky you were still here, otherwise I’d be eating it.”

Inside was a giant chocolate chip cookie, his favorite. “Want to split it?”

“I already ate two.”

She sat down and said, “How’d your convo with Clarkson go?”

“Good. I don’t know why I was so nervous, but he gave me a pep talk.”

He turned his computer screen around so she could see what he’d done.

“Think whoever wrote the note will reach out?” she asked.

“I hope.”

They chatted while he ate his cookie. It was nice spending time with Lizzy. She told him about all the drama in her apartment—she lived in campus upper division housing with three other girls on the far southern tip of campus. Ten minutes later, he was laughing as much as she was.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said.

“My place is in totally the opposite direction from your place.”

“But I can catch the bus down there, it’s not a problem.”

“Then great!” Lizzy said.