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implied they were having some kind of romantic relationship, that they were dating. And that’s why Marissa dumped me out of the blue, because she was involved with this other man. Some old guy.”
    While I spoke, I stared at the carpet, and when I looked up, Laurel was eyeing me and not saying anything. I watched her for a moment. She clearly knew something she wasn’t saying.
    “That story’s bullshit, right?” I asked. “It’s just Heather telling me something to make me feel bad. Isn’t it, Laurel?”
    “I agree that Heather probably just wanted to hurt you,” she said. “Or, more accurately, she wanted to give you a bad impression of Marissa.”
    “But? You’re acting like you know something.”
    She didn’t say anything.
    “What is it, Laurel? It’s a lie, isn’t it?”
    Laurel looked unsteady. “It isn’t. I know because I was in Razer’s that night, late, and I saw Marissa with that man.”
    “Were you with Heather?” I asked.
    “No, Heather wasn’t there. Not with me. I was with some other friends. I liked Razer’s because students rarely went there, but we walked in and we saw Marissa. My friends didn’t know her, but I did.”
    “Well—”
    “I’d met her parents when they visited once,” Laurel said. “That man wasn’t her dad. And Eastland is a small campus. I’d been the student representative to the faculty senate. I knew most of the professors, at least by sight. I didn’t recognize this man. I don’t think he was a faculty member, and even if he was, why would she be in a dive bar with him late at night?”
    “But if they were trying to hide whatever they were doing, why go out in public?” I asked.
    “Who says they wanted to hide it?” Laurel asked. “Look, did you ever go to Razer’s?”
    “Rarely. Maybe two or three times.”
    “Right. Most of us went to places where students hung out. It’s a fluke I saw Marissa there. And we didn’t stay long. There were bikers there. Townies. We didn’t stay.”
    I tried to steady myself by placing my hands on the armrests of the chair. “So all of my friends knew about this, but no one told me?” I asked.
    “Think about it, Nick,” she said. “Marissa died that night. Why would any of us tell you something like that right after the fire? The two of you had broken up, and then she died. You were devastated. A lot of people were torn up over her death. Marissa had a lot of friends, Nick—she was a wonderful, warm person. People were just trying to protect your feelings. I know it must really suck to hear about this now, but we were thinking of you.”
    “But what Heather said isn’t true. She said they were acting . . . intimate. As though they were really involved with each other. That’s not true, is it? If she wasn’t there . . .”
    Laurel pressed her lips together, and then she said, “I’m only telling you this so that everything is out in the open. You seem to want to know it all, and maybe that’s for the best. But when I saw them, they were holding hands across the table. And it looked like Marissa had been crying. I don’t know what it means. I didn’t talk to them. Believe me, I may not have dated much in college, but I recognized the signs. Those two people were involved with each other.”

CHAPTER TWELVE
    I was at my desk, compiling a case report. A landlord in a building mostly occupied by residents on welfare “forgot” to pay the water bill, leaving seventy-five people high and dry for a day and a half. Despite the grim event, I’d lost myself in the problem solving, a good feeling. Then my cell phone rang.
    “What are you doing right now?”
    “Laurel?” I asked.
    “You heard me,” she said. “What are you doing?”
    It was just before noon, and I’d spent the previous evening at home trying to forget everything I’d been told about Marissa over the past couple of days. No matter how hard I tried, I kept seeing her in Razer’s, that dark, shadowy bar. I could see her in my