Yes, we guys are the police. Decker shook her hand. “I’m Detective Decker and this is Detective McAdams. Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.” He turned to McAdams whose mouth was slightly agape. Julia smiled, obviously used to male attention. She plopped down on her bed and sat cross-legged. “You guys can sit down if you want.”

“I’m fine standing, but thank you.” Decker looked around the room. It consisted of two beds that had been lofted on high legs for more space, two desks, two chairs, and two closets. “I’m actually here to talk about Angeline Moreau.”

“Why?” Her blue eyes narrowed. “What’s she done?”

“What makes you think she’s done anything? Has she been in trouble before?”

“Not really. I mean not in serious trouble. I mean we had this anal RA. Not anymore, thank God. We forgot our room cards and, yes, it was late. But so what? I mean it’s an art school, right. And she’s getting all amped because we’re a little tipsy. Yes, we were underage at the time. Not anymore thank you very much. But c’mon. Like the school cares?”

Decker pulled up a chair and sat down next to the bed, giving her some breathing room but not much. “Does the school care?”

“As long as it’s in a red cup, everyone’s down with that. But I’m guessing you’re not here to talk about two girls getting wasted, right?”

“Right.”

“So what’s going on with Angeline?” She suddenly gasped. “Is she okay?”

“Let me answer your question with a question.” Decker pulled out a notebook. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“Oh my God! She’s missing?” She covered her mouth with her hands. “What happened?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out. Right now we’re trying to get a timeline of her actions. When did you last see her, Julia?”

“Oh my God! I can’t believe I’m actually talking about this!” Her voice was a whisper. “Not Friday . . . maybe Thursday of last week?”

“Morning, evening?”

“Morning, I think. It could have been Wednesday.” She looked up at Decker. “She hardly lives here anymore.”

“Why’s that?”

“She rented another place . . . closer to town.”

“So you know about her apartment.”

“Of course. We’re close . . . or we used to be close.” Her eyes formed tears. “Did you guys check her apartment?”

“We’re doing that right now.”

Her eyes went from Decker’s face to McAdams and then back to Decker. “Have you called her cell?”

“It goes straight to voice mail.” That part was true. “Why aren’t you close anymore?”

The girl looked down. “It’s not like we had a fight or anything. We just drifted apart.”

“I know about Lance Terry. What happened between the two of them?”

“That was over a year ago.” Julia sighed. “She broke it off. Lance was very upset, but he’s moved on. He has a new girlfriend.”

“So . . . is she seeing someone else?”

“I’m not sure. We kinda stopped talking. It was gradual. It’s okay. We all have our own lives.” Tears streamed down her cheek.

“So you don’t know if she has a new boyfriend. Because if you have a name, I need it. Time is important.”

“She . . .” Julia stopped herself.

“What?” Decker motioned to McAdams to sit down and returned his attention to Julia. “Tell me, hon. We need all the help we can get.”

“I honestly don’t know about a new boyfriend, but I’ll tell you what I do know.” She bit her lip. “Angeline doesn’t come from money . . . like a lot of people here. I mean it isn’t as obvious at Littleton as it is at Morse McKinley because we’re more socially conscious.”

A pause.

“She suddenly started toting around very expensive designer bags. The kind you can’t even buy here. You’ve got to go to New York or Boston to get Celine or Nancy Rodriguez or Chanel.”

“How expensive is expensive?”

“Over a thousand dollars retail. Not only that, her boots. I mean I didn’t check the label or anything, but when she crossed her legs, I saw the red sole.”

“Christian Louboutin,” Decker said.

“Yeah . . . right. Exactly. It’s not that she dressed expensively. Jeans and sweaters like the rest of the campus. But she did accessorize expensively. I finally asked her about them. She smiled and winked and that’s as far as she got to telling me about it. I mean . . . someone had to be paying the rent on her apartment. I know she didn’t have that kind of spending cash.”

“Do you think she might have been doing something illegal to get extra money?”

“Like what? Hooking?”

“I was thinking more about pushing, but do you think she was hooking?”

“No. Who’d she ho with? The guys here get it for free and Greenbury isn’t exactly crawling with sugar daddies.”

“So what about pushing?”

“No way. You can’t get that kind of money selling shit . . . uh, stuff. Most people get it for free at the parties. Besides, Angeline was more of a boozer than a pothead. Not that she binges that much. She’s like all of us here.” She wiped a tear away. “This is really upsetting.”

“I know it is. But we need as much information as you can give us. Could she have found a rich boyfriend?”

“If she did, I don’t know about it.”

“Fair enough. Julia, do you know if Angeline has been having problems with anyone?”

She shook her head no.

“Think about it. A guy? A girl? An RA or even a professor?”

“No stalkers if that’s what you mean.”

“Was there anyone specifically that she complained to you about?”

“She complained about people, sure. Mostly that everyone here was stupid. Angeline was an intellectual snob. She would have rather gone to Brown, but Littleton offered her close to a free ride.”

“So she felt a little out of place?”

“Not really. We had fun. I think at the beginning of the year, she came down with a major case of senioritis. She just kind of withdrew.”

“What’s her major?”

“Art history. Littleton specializes in the arts.”

“Was she doing a thesis?” McAdams asked.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Do you know the specific topic?”

“Yeah, actually I do. Asian export textile design in the eighteenth century and its influence on art nouveau. Why do you ask?”

Decker said nothing, but the two men exchanged glances. McAdams jammed his hands in his pockets and looked around. “I don’t see a lot of textbooks here.”

“Try her apartment. Like I said, she was almost never here anymore.”

“I know dorm life pretty well. I just graduated a few years ago. It’s hard to study in your room. Where did Angeline study before she got her own apartment?”

“You mean which library?”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Rayfield is our big research library but it isn’t as big as Huntington.”

“Huntington is at Duxbury?”

“Yes.”

“Is that where she did her research?”

“Probably.”

There was a pause. Decker waited for Tyler to finish with his questions. It was good to see the kid finally take initiative. When he remained quiet, Decker said, “Do you know if Angeline does stained glass?”

Julia paused then shook her head. “Not that I know of.”

McAdams was playing with his smartphone. “Uh . . . it’s taught as an elective at Littleton.”

“I . . . don’t know every course at the school so . . . there you go.”

Decker let it ride. “Julia, I don’t have Angeline’s recent cell-phone records. But I do have an old phone bill. Can you help us identify the numbers on it?”

“I can give it a shot.”

McAdams pulled out the bill and handed it to her. Julia looked up and smiled. The kid attempted to smile back but it came out as more of a grimace.

“Um . . . this is me, of course. This is Emily . . . Emily Hall. This is Lance . . . hmm; I didn’t know they were even still in contact. This is take-out pizza. This is take-out Chinese. This is our nail salon . . . appears she was going without me, thank you very much.” She sighed. “I must seem petty.”