“No, thank you. I only wanted to stop by and see how you’re holding up after your first week.” Her eyes drop to my bandaged hand and the stack of papers. “Do you need help with those?”

“I think I do,” I say. “You never realize how much you rely on both your hands until one is gone.”

Anne smiles. She takes the papers and straightens them on the desk then slides them into my bag. “How’s your hand healing?”

“Slowly, but it’s getting better.”

She nods, and I can tell my answer was irrelevant.

“Mr. Reese, I thought you should know that I got a call the other day from a Detective Nolan. He said he was investigating the attack.”

“Why did he call you?”

“That’s what I asked him. Turns out, he had a couple questions that needed to be answered. Questions about you.”

I pause. “What about me?”

“He wanted to know if I’d noticed anything out of the ordinary. If you’d had any strange guests, missed a lot of work, that kind of thing.”

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him the truth,” she says. “I explained that this was your first year and I didn’t know you well enough to decide if something was out of the ordinary.”

“Did he say why he wanted to know?”

“Not directly, but I got the impression he thinks you’re wrapped up in all this, and that what happened to you might’ve been a direct result of your involvement.”

“My involvement in what?”

“He didn’t give specifics.”

“Of course he didn’t.” My voice comes out sharp, and when I speak again, I make an effort to stay calm. “I can’t defend myself against baseless accusations.”

“You think he’s lying?”

“I think he’s lazy,” I say. “He’s looking into my case, but since he doesn’t have anything to go on, he’s assuming I’m somehow to blame because of the trouble I got in as a kid.”