He grinned. “He likes it.” His gaze fell on Maggie, and his face beamed happy surprise. “Oh, hey, I remember you. How’s it going?”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “You know each other?”

“Not exactly,” Linnie said. “They met once, but I don’t think I introduced them.”

“Ah.” Sam indicated Maggie with a wave. “So this is Wren Heed’s niece, Margaret.” He tilted his head. “Caleb Whitney.”

He must have heard about her before. A flash of comprehension showed in his face, followed immediately by apprehension. Then sympathy. But he just said, “Nice to meet you.”

Maggie mumbled a hello.

There was an awkward shuffling by the door.

With a cough, Caleb knelt by his dog—a German shepherd mix, not at all a furry Fluffster kind of creature—and gave his sleek head and back a brisk rubbing. The dog smiled around his pants, and his tail thumped the floor.

Brushing his hands together, Caleb straightened. “No Kate?”

“Not yet,” Sam said. He pulled out his phone and checked the time.

“Just out for a walk, Margaret?” Linnie gave Maggie a nudge with her elbow. “What’s up?”

“Not much.” She dropped her gaze to the polished floor and stared hard at the pine knots among the swirling grain, as if they might give her a clue for how to bring up a difficult topic. Finally, she said, “I’m in a bind. I was hoping Sam might help me. I—I need to take care of a situation.” Actually, more than one. But she didn’t want to get into Mom and Wren’s troubles—not with Caleb and Linnie around. Jane’s situation however … “It can’t wait. That is, I shouldn’t wait.” Any longer than I already have. Maggie pressed her fingers to her throat, then pushed back her curls.

“What happened?” Linnie asked.

“A girl from Carlton emailed me in September.” Maggie let go of her hair. “Then a few more times in October. I didn’t realize she’d been writing.” At first, anyway. Heat climbed her neck. “I hadn’t been checking my phone. From what I can gather, she was at a party and … and…” She hugged her sides, felt her ribs all the way through her coat. And what? Say it. Name it. “And someone raped her.”

She released a long breath. She’d said it. Not an accident or a misunderstanding or a someone-just-got-carried-away or a disaster the victim brought upon herself or a shameful secret. Raped.

“Holy shit,” Linnie breathed.

“Is she a friend of yours?” Caleb asked quietly.

“I’ve never even met her, though she knows me, I mean”—Maggie pulled at the tab on her zipper—“heard about me.”

“How’d she get your email address?” Linnie asked.

“College ones are easy to figure out. They follow the same format.”

Linnie absently patted the dog’s head. “She probably thought you’d understand.”