“I’m her mother. Is Angeline in trouble?”

The expected panic. “There’s no easy way to tell you this, ma’am. There was an incident in her apartment. I’m very sorry, but Angeline is deceased.”

The wailing was immediate. Over the phone, Decker heard a male voice asking what was wrong. Then the female voice screaming, “Angeline is dead!” Then there was a lot of shouting and even more voices followed by sobbing. No matter how many times Decker did this, it never, ever got easier. It always made him sick in his gut.

The man came on the line. “Who is this?”

“Detective Peter Decker from Greenbury Police. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

“Are you positive it’s her?”

Decker paused. “Sir, I’ll tell you everything I know, but it would be better to do this in person. Who am I talking to?”

“Jim Bronson. I’m Angeline’s stepfather. You didn’t answer my question.”

“I know. We don’t have a positive ID because of the condition of the body. We may have to do a DNA test. I can get a twenty-four-hour turnaround if you bring me her toothbrush or hairbrush.”

“So it’s possible that it isn’t her?”

The expected hope. “Yes, it’s possible. But we’re proceeding as if it were her. Because we found her in her apartment with ID on her. I’m so sorry, but I do need to talk to you and it would be helpful to talk in person. Where are you located? This looks like a Florida prefix.”

“It is. We’re on our way as soon as I hang up. God, can’t you tell me anything?” He lowered his voice. “Murder?”

The wailing in the background had intensified. “The coroner does the official ruling . . . but it looks like a homicide. We can get into the details face-to-face. I know this is very difficult, but did Angeline ever speak to you about having any problems up here?”

“Angeline is an A student.”

“I’m thinking personal problems. Maybe she had a beef with another student or a teacher?”

“I don’t think so, but I’m in a fog right now.”

“I know this is hard, but could you ask your wife? Anything you could give us in this very early stage of the investigation might help.”

“God . . . hold on.” Decker heard muffled conversation and the woman shouting no, no, no. Jim came back on the line. “She can’t think of anyone.”

“Did Angeline have a boyfriend?”

“Uh . . . uh . . . what the hell was his name? Karen, what’s the name of the boy that Angeline was dating?” A female voice and then he came back on the line. “She was dating Lance Terry. He had been her boyfriend for several years, but they broke up a while ago.”

“Do you know who broke it off?”

“Hold on.” A moment passed. “Karen said that she did. No problems afterward supposedly.”

“Is Lance Terry a student at Littleton?”

“Somewhere in the colleges.”

Decker said, “Okay . . . what about friends?”

“Hold on.” A pause. “My wife says that her two closest college friends are Julia Kramer and Emily Hall. I can’t believe—” He choked up. “I really have to go. Do you have a number where I can reach you?”

“I’ll give you my cell. Feel free to call it twenty-four/seven if you think of anything else or even if you just want to talk.”

“It’ll probably take us a while to get up there . . . God, I don’t even know about flights at this time of night. I need to call the airlines. If we drive out, we won’t get there until tomorrow at the earliest.”

“No problem. Just call me when you arrive. And if you drive, please drive carefully. Don’t worry how long it takes. I’m not going anywhere.” Gently, Decker hung up the phone. “I’ve got some names for you, McAdams: Julia Kramer, Emily Hall, and Lance Terry. Two friends and the ex-boyfriend.”

McAdams pushed the phone bill back across to Decker’s desk. There were three circled numbers. “The 917 belongs to a male voice . . . no identification in the voice mail. The 314 belongs to a girl named Emily and the 310 belongs to Julia. Not many calls but a ton of texts going back and forth. No one talks on the phone anymore. I’d probably be better off texting them if you want to talk to them.”

“Do it. Then let’s get out of here.”

McAdams looked up. “Where are we going?”

“To Littleton College to talk to Angeline’s friends.” Decker regarded Tyler’s stunned face. “I’ll do all the talking. You just take notes and listen. I want you along because a younger person might inspire the kids to talk a little more.”

“So I’m like your secretary?” When Decker glared at him, McAdams reddened. “I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry. Can I use my iPad to take notes?”

“As long as you don’t get distracted and start looking up mustached babies who dance the tango.”

“Is that a real YouTube?”

Decker rolled his eyes. “Let’s go, Harvard. See what was going on in Angeline’s life. Because right now, we don’t have a clue about her death.”

STEPPING OUT INTO the frigid night air, the two of them began the slow trek in ankle-deep drifts toward the colleges. Academia sat about a mile away: a pleasant walk in the daytime. But as the hour got late, the damp air seeped into the bones and stiffened the muscles.

McAdams’s phone beeped. “It’s a text from Julia Kramer. She wants to know what’s going on.”

“Tell her we’re on our way. Ask her where we should meet.”

“That doesn’t answer her question.”

“And in not answering her question, we say a lot, don’t we.”

“True that.” McAdams texted her back. They walked for another minute in silence until his phone beeped again. He read the text aloud. “Come to my dorm. Maple Hall, 4D. What’s going on?”

“Tell her we’ll be right there. Don’t tip her off. I want to read her face when we get there and break the news.” Decker tightened his scarf and rubbed his hands together. “Tyler, ask her if she has a roommate? We may want some privacy.”

“Sure.” The kid’s hands flew over the pop-up keyboard of his smartphone. A minute later, he said, “Angeline Moreau. Why? . . . Okay, then. What should I text back?”

“Tell her we’ll be there in ten minutes,” Decker said.

“Done.”

“It looks like Angeline has an official dorm room on campus. The apartment is officially registered in her name. Is she paying for the off-campus place or is someone else footing the bill?”

“Should I write that down as a question?”

Decker smiled. “I was thinking out loud, but sure write it down. And write this down as well. Did her parents know she was living off-campus? Probably not. Why would they continue to pay the college for her room and board? And if she was mostly living off-campus, it might explain why Julia, her roommate, wasn’t worried when Angeline hadn’t shown up after the weekend.”

“It’s only Monday night,” McAdams said. “Maybe Angeline didn’t have class on Monday and she is a senior. Maybe she goes away for the weekends. Maybe she has a boo who goes with her.”

“By boo you mean boyfriend?”

“Yeah.”

“That brings us to another question. If Lance Terry is out of the picture, does she have a current boyfriend?”

“I still don’t know who the male voice is. Maybe he’s the new guy in town.”

“Could be. Mike, Kevin, and Ben are combing her apartment and the complex for any information they can dig up. But there still may be something in her dorm room that can help us out.” Decker held up a package. “Hence the gloves and evidence bags. Don’t touch anything without latex fingers.”

“Don’t you need a warrant or something to search the room?”

“First off, she’s dead and that changes everything. Second, the dorm is the school’s property. If I need it, someone can surely grant me permission in these circumstances.”

“Does the school even know about the homicide?”

“Mike has contacted the school. And the school should know it’s in its best interest to keep this very quiet.”

“Are we going to keep it quiet?”

“Depends on how cooperative Littleton is.”