“You thought maybe she was being a bit antisocial,” I said.

“To be honest? Kind of. That’s why I didn’t pay much attention that night when she left for the library. She was gone a lot.”

“A lot?”

“Yes.”

“Nights?”

“Nights and days. I really didn’t see her much.”

“Did she spend nights away from the dorm?”

“No,” she said. “She always was there in the morning. That’s why when I woke up and she wasn’t, I thought it was weird. But still…”

“Still what?” said Milo.

“I didn’t freak or anything. You know – this was college. We were supposed to be grown-ups.”

Milo twirled his own pen. Blue plastic Bic. “So there was no boyfriend you know of.”

“Right.”

“And this other note I’ve got – about maybe it being an older man. Did Shawna ever say anything about liking older men?”

Mindy’s back was flat against the wall. Another upward glance. Both of her hands clenched the pen.

“Ms. Jacobus-Grieg?”

“Is this – is all this going to be publicized?”

“That’s not our priority.”

“’Cause it was really no big deal. And Agnes…”

“What was no big deal?”

Mindy shook her head. “I told a reporter – some pest from the Cub – and he told the police about a conversation Shawna and I had.”

“A conversation about what?”

“Guys – what girls talk about all the time. I shouldn’t have opened my mouth. And that pest shouldn’ve repeated it.”

“Repeated what, Mindy?”

Mindy rubbed one sandal against the other. “I wouldn’t want to ruin Shawna’s reputation.”

“Ruin it in what way?”

“Raising rumors – because what’s the point, a year later? Why should her mom read it and get upset?”

Milo moved closer to her, placed his weight on one foot, looking very tired. “What hurts Mrs. Yeager the most is not knowing what happened to Shawna. That’s the ultimate hell for a parent, so anything you can do to clear it up would be a good deed.”

Mindy bit back tears. “I know, I know, but I’m sure it’s nothing-”

“Indulge us. Unless it leads to a solution, we’ll keep it close to the vest.”

The flush had overtaken Mindy’s face. Coppery glow beneath the tan, but nothing healthy about it.

“It was really just a single conversation,” she said, swiping at her eyes again. “Maybe three weeks into the semester. Steve had a friend who thought Shawna looked hot, and he asked if Shawna wanted to be fixed up. Shawna said no, she had too much studying, but then she went out – and not to the library, this was a Friday morning and she said something had come up suddenly, she had to leave early for the weekend. Something back home in Santo Leon. But the thing is, she was all dressed up and made up – nothing like what you’d expect just to take the bus home. So I asked her who the guy was, said she wasn’t wasting stockings and all that lip gloss on some campus loser. And she gave me this – I can only call it an off look, know what I mean? Real serious – almost angry. But not angry – upset.”

“Like you’d hit a nerve,” I said.

“Exactly. She gave me the off look and said, ‘Mindy, I would never date anyone my age. Give me an older guy anytime, ’cause they know how to treat a woman.’ And that’s when it hit me: the way she was dressed. A suit – all that makeup. It’s like she was trying to make herself look older, so I wondered. And that’s what I told that pest from the Cub. Which is probably what you’ve got in there.” Pointing to the pad. “But I don’t know for sure,” she added.

“You didn’t ask her?” said Milo.

“I tried – I can be nosy, I admit it. But like I said, Shawna was private. She just kind of blew me off, picked up her suitcase, and left.”

“So older men know how to treat a woman,” said Milo. “You think she meant financially?”

“That’s the way I took it. ’Cause Shawna liked things. Talked about becoming a psychiatrist or a plastic surgeon, getting herself a big house in one of the Three B’s – Brentwood, Bel Air, Beverly Hills – like she’d read about that in some magazine. I mean, she actually took the bus into Beverly Hills once, walked up and down Rodeo Drive – unsophisticated. Kind of adorable, really.”

“Into stuff,” said Milo.

“Clothes, cars – she said one day she’d drive a Ferrari.”

“From being a plastic surgeon or marrying one?”

“Maybe both,” said Mindy.

“She ever talk about any professors she really liked?”

“What, you think it was a professor?”

“They’re the older men on campus.”

“No, she never said.”

“Okay, thanks for your time,” said Milo, flipping through his pad, then slipping it into his pocket. Mindy smiled, and her posture had just loosened when he said, “Oh, one other thing – and this’ll stay as private as possible too. There was mention of some photos Shawna might’ve posed for, for Duke magazine-”

“Oh, please,” snapped Mindy. “That stupid idiot – the weirdo from the Cub.”

“Weird, how?”

“Obsessive. Like a stalker. He wouldn’t leave me alone. Kept dropping in at the dorm, doing his big reporter thing. The last straw was when he barged right past me, started poking around our stuff. The whole Duke thing came up because Steve had left some magazines around – Sports Illustrated, GQ. And, yes, some Playboys and Dukes too – you know guys. And the idiot has the nerve to start poking around in the stack and these loose pages fall out of the Duke and Green – the idiot – grabs them and says, ‘Whoa, is this Shawna?’ I grab them back and tell him to keep his filthy mitts off and his mind out of the gutter. And he gives me this knowing smile – this smirk – and he says, ‘What’s the matter, Mindy? Why shouldn’t Shawna pose? God gave her the bod and the hair – ’ disgusting talk. That’s when I threatened to scream and he left, but he kept hassling me, and I had to get Steve to warn him off. Maybe you should be looking at him.”

“Did he know Shawna before she disappeared?” I said.

“No – I don’t think so. I was just talking in the sense that he was weird. Anyway, that’s where that Duke stupidity came from.”

“So Shawna never posed.”

“Of course not. Why would she do that?”

“Same reason any girl does. Money, fame – or maybe she’d met an older guy who was also a photographer.”

“No,” said Mindy, “no way. Shawna wanted to be a doctor, not a centerfold. That’s not the kind of money and fame she wanted. None of us want that. It’s demeaning.”

“Shawna entered beauty contests,” said Milo.

“And hated it – Miss Olive Oil, whatever. She told me she only did it for the prize money and because she figured it would look good on her U application. She wasn’t that kind of girl.”

“What kind is that?”

“A bimbo. She was smart.” Another quick study of the ceiling. White knuckles around the gold pen. One hand let go and began tracing the outline of her narrow hip. Her face had turned salmon pink. Her eyes jumped around like pachinko balls.

“Demeaning,” she said.

Milo smiled at her. Let it ride.