“Your brother has a history of bad investments, Ava.”

“I know about the tech startup that collapsed last winter,” I said.

“It wasn’t just a collapse,” Arthur said quietly. “It was a wipeout. He had a partner.”

“I remember,” I murmured. “A man named Julian.”

“Julian Croft,” Arthur said. “He took the fall for all of Brandon’s bad debts.”

We turned onto the main avenue of the university campus.

The stone gothic buildings of Ellison loomed through the grey mist.

Students with umbrellas hurried along the brick paths, their heads down against the wind.

Arthur parked in the faculty lot near my residence hall.

We walked quickly, the rain soaking into my shoulders.

The lobby of McKinley Hall was quiet, smelling of damp wool and floor wax.

We took the stairs to the third floor.

My boots squeaked on the linoleum tiles.

As we rounded the corner to my hallway, I saw it.

The door to room 312 was indeed slightly ajar.

The brass lock had been drilled out, leaving a pile of shiny metal shavings on the carpet.

I pushed the door open slowly, my breath hitching.