She gives me a onceover, and I feel the ground shift under my feet. I love Eleanor, so in my descriptions to Haggerty, I softened her. She’s never been cruel or intentionally hurtful to me, but she’s exacting, brittle. From the day I moved in, Eleanor has curated my appearance with high-minded precision. Hair, skin, nails, clothes, weight, the way I walk, the way I talk, the list goes on. For most of my childhood, I was so skinny, I looked like one of my brothers. But when I was twelve, my body erupted, like a dirty bomb defiling everything within a fifty-mile radius. Eleanor doubled down in response. Modesty was paramount, desire distasteful, and basic human urges—eating, drinking, fucking—suppressed. Cover yourself, Cassie. Keep yourself in check, Cassie. Be pretty, be smart; be good. For Christ’s sake, Cassie, be anything but what you are. I rebelled, parading through the house in a skimpy tank top and tiny boxers. Hey, Eleanor, check me out.

“Well, don’t you look casual?” she says.

I’m wearing ripped denim shorts and a T-shirt. I’m barefaced, barefoot, and my hair is a tangled, knotty mess. Her point, though, is I’m not wearing a bra. “It’s summer, Eleanor.”

“Mind if I take a tour?” Without waiting for my response, she sweeps through the nearly empty rooms. “You’ve done wonders with the place, Cassandra. Who knew you had such style?”

“Who knew you had a sense of humor?”

She smiles. “There’s my girl. Snappy as ever.”

Eleanor won’t sit without a proper invitation, so I wave at a bench. “Make yourself comfortable.”

“I will do my very best.” She slides over as if it’s the backseat of a town car: knees together, spine straight, hands folded neatly like white dinner napkins. After a brief pause, she explains her impromptu visit. “We received a report from the lawyer’s office.”

“About Billy?”

“Of course, Cassandra.”

Of course. There’s no other reason for her to be here. On the plus side, it has nothing to do with Marcus. I open my espresso and take a sip. It’s still hot. “Start with the good news.”

“The investigator—Mr. Martinez, the bearded gentleman with atrocious posture, you’ve met him—is excellent.”

“And the bad news?”

“Mr. Martinez’s understanding of Billy and the girl’s relationship differs from ours. It seems she wasn’t really stalking your brother, and he never reported her to campus security.”

“Yeah, I know. We already discussed this with DeFiore. Billy said Diana was needy, not that she stalked him. I mean, he didn’t use that word, specifically. Nor did he say anything to me or Nate about filing reports. We told Lawrence all of this. We also told Martinez before he went digging.”

“Well, Lawrence never told me. Neither did Billy. Like you, he’s always been less than forthcoming about his romantic life.”