“Connecticut, eh?”
“That’s where my parents live. I’m just a student here.”
As if that explains everything, Mr. Connelly disappears for a couple of minutes and returns with my V notebook, which he places in my anxiously waiting hands.
33
Dana got a call from Larry at her office in the late afternoon.
“Hi, babe,” he said.
“Have you heard something? Your voice has an edge to it.”
“No, I haven’t heard anything. I’m calling to ask if you’ve been in my room today.”
“Larry, we left the house together this morning, and I’m still at work. How could I have been in your room?”
“I bet my ass you sneaked home to look for that diary. You didn’t believe me when I told you I gave it to the cops.”
He was wrong about that—she’d given him the benefit of the doubt. Now something must have happened
