Nothing had changed with Dylan either. A week would go by when they spent every day together, with Auggie trying to navigate the microstorms that started up every time he made a mistake. Then three or four days with no contact. Dylan had finally allowed Auggie to jerk him off. Then to suck him. He never returned the favor; he wanted a real connection—that was the explanation every time—and he wasn’t sure Auggie was even capable of it. They agreed, because Auggie had learned what happened when he didn’t agree with everything, not to put any labels on what they were doing.
A real connection, a cynical part of Auggie realized, meant a dick up his ass. It was the only thing he held out on. Ever since Dylan had touched him in the gym bathroom, Auggie had felt a resistance he couldn’t name or explain; he wasn’t ready to take that step in their relationship. He gave up eating meat when Dylan gave up meat. He went back on meat when Dylan decided an ethical diet could include animal proteins. He meditated. He drank the stupid tea that Dylan wanted him to drink. Sometimes, if he agreed to take molly, Dylan would let Auggie jerk himself off after. When texts came late at night, usually no more than u up? Auggie would drag on sweats and drive across town—the Civic was back in working condition, although only by a stretch of the definition—to provide another hand job. The one time Auggie had said he was too tired, Dylan had gone radio silent for ten days, and Auggie had bought him a watch (on Fer’s credit card) as an apology gift.
He stayed away from Theo. At first, it had been because Theo had claimed his lawyer had told him it was for the best. But as things went on with Dylan, Auggie found himself finding new reasons. When he spotted Theo on campus—or someone who looked like Theo—he changed course. When they bumped into each other, once, in Tether-Marfitt, Auggie had dragged out an unbelievably complicated lie and then run away. One night, after getting home from Dylan’s, from another jerkoff session that had ended with Dylan rolling off the bed, pulling up his joggers, and telling Auggie he needed to call it an early night, Auggie had almost called. Then he had started crying so hard that he dropped the phone, and eventually he’d fallen asleep. When he woke in the morning, he wasn’t even sure what he’d been going to say.
The phone call from Lender came like a thunderbolt.
“Get over to the hospital,” the detective said. “Immediately, August. I want you to talk to someone.”
The call disconnected. After fifteen minutes of panic, Auggie went to the hospital.
Lender was waiting in the lobby. He took Auggie’s arm above the elbow, steered him into an elevator, and pressed a button.
“What—”
“Be quiet, August.”
They rode up two floors in silence. Then Lender took his arm again and walked him down to a shared hospital room. The woman in one bed was older, her eyes closed, her breath rattling in her chest. The women in the other bed was Sadie, Cal’s drug dealer, whom Theo and Auggie had tied up and interrogated. She had the same short, dark hair that Auggie remembered, but she was paler now, and thick bandages padded out her frame under the hospital gown. Her eyes were dopey and half-closed.
“Tell him,” Lender said.
“Oh shit,” Sadie said. “You’re the kid from my house.”
“She was shot,” Lender said. “Twice. In the back. The same kind of bullets as that girl Nia.”
Auggie glanced over. “Wait, what?”
“You heard me.” To Sadie, Lender repeated, “Tell him about Cal’s apartment.”
“Oh shit.” For a moment, Sadie struggled to sit up. Then she sagged back against the inclined mattress. “Went over there that night. He said he was going to have cash. I wouldn’t give it on credit, but he said he was going to have cash.”
“What night?” Auggie said.
“The night Cal Reese disappeared,” Lender said.
“You said you didn’t know when you saw him. You said you didn’t remember.”
“Lied.”
“And? What the hell happened?”
“Didn’t answer the door,” Sadie mumbled. “Lights were on. Nobody home. Car was there. Mustang. I like Mustangs. And a BMW.”
“What color? What color was the BMW?”
“Dark.”
“The car was dark? Or it was too dark to see?”
“Black girl ran away. Too weird. Might be a setup, so I left.”
“What did the girl look like?”
“Strong,” Sadie said.
“What—”
“That’s all,” Lender said, grabbing Auggie’s collar and forcing him toward the door. When they stood in the hallway, Lender added, “Now you’ve got your White Rabbit. That’s because I want this wrapped up before anyone looks closer at the breadth of my investment portfolio. Do you understand?”
“If I could just ask her—”
“She’s not even supposed to be awake, August. And that’s all she remembers. Now. I did you a favor today; I expect you to return it.”
When Lender left Auggie in the parking lot, Auggie got out his phone and called Nia.
“What?” she asked.
“Were you at Cal Reese’s apartment the night Deja was shot?”
The call disconnected, and when Auggie tried again, it went immediately to voicemail.
Next, he sent a message to Genesis: were u at Cal’s apartment the night Deja Corey got shot?
No answer.
I really need to know.
Nothing.
He called.
Nothing.
He thought about the three people he knew who drove dark BMWs: Wayne, Genesis, and Orlando. Three people who might have a motive to hurt Cal. He texted Theo—short, spare messages, just the facts. After ten minutes, when Theo still hadn’t responded, he went home.
It was almost a week later when he was in the Sigma Sigma dining hall, eating scrambled eggs and fruit—Dylan was off processed carbs, so Auggie was off processed carbs—that he saw a two-day-old issue of the Wroxall Rag, the student newspaper. The cover featured a picture of a man with long, strawberry-blond hair. It had been taken from the back, probably to showcase the handcuffs he was wearing, but Auggie recognized Theo. He snatched the paper and read the article.
He went first to the county jail. Then he drove back across to town to the little brick house. Theo answered on the third knock. He was wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt with Shakespearean insults listed on it. He looked better than Auggie had expected, although still worn out. Not taking care of himself, as usual. And probably not even aware that he wasn’t.
To Auggie’s surprise, Theo wore a tiny smile, and he gave a half shrug. “You saw the paper.”
“Holy shit, Theo! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Come on in. Shoes off, if you don’t mind.”
Auggie kicked his muddy Jordans off near the door. The house was spotless. Even Theo’s stack of printed-out articles, monographs, and journals had been put away—although Auggie couldn’t guess where.
“Wow,” Auggie said.