I pace around my room as I dial a number. It's ringing.

"Harvard University main office, how may I help you?"

"Yes, I'd like to speak to Ms... Nicole Row in the Computer Science department, please?"

"I'll put you through."

I wait.

"Nicole Row, computer science at Harvard, how may I help you?"

"Hi, yes, I have a few questions regarding an old alumni of yours."

"I guess you've never been told, I never forget a student."

"Okay, are you familiar with Brendon Urie?"

She gasps in excitement. "Oh, such an intelligent student. He always went above and beyond the curriculum."

"How so?"

"One time, I assigned them a project on something that interested them outside of Computer Science, and Brendon gave an unforgettable presentation on the development of human behavior."

"Do you recall what was on the presentation?"

"Not exactly, but I do remember him making a connection between the human brain and computers. Some developing faster than others and such."

"Okay. Has Brendon ever gotten into trouble before?"

"How do you mean?"

"Did he display any manners of abnormalness?"

"Well, I can say yes, only because who wouldn't after his parents died."

"What about prior?"

"No. Everything seemed normal."

"Oh, well thank you." I hang up.

Dammit. He had her fooled. There's gotta be someone who can side with me.

I look at my laptop and a thought comes into my mind. I open the browser.

Psychiatric hospitals New York

There's one about a mile away from where the Way family was murdered. I dial the number on the website. It's ringing.

"Hello?"

"I'd like to speak to one of your patients?"

"What's your name?"

"Rebecca Armstrong."

"Patient's name?"

"Gerard Way."

"I'll put you through."

I wait.

"He says he doesn't know you."

"I know, but I need to speak to him. It's important."

"I'll try again."

I wait.

"Hello?" a new voice says.

"Gerard Way?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"My name's Rebecca."

"You sound like a kid, what're you, 12?"

"I'm 17. Look, I need to ask you something important. I need information."

"What is it?" He asks in a dismissive tone.

"What comes to mind when I say the name, Brendon Urie?"

Silence comes from the other end as if I just told this guy he has three days to live.

"Gerard? Are you still there?"

"Yes, I'm here." It almost sounds like he's whispering.

"So what -"

"We can't talk about this over the phone. We should meet in person. Can you come to visit?"

"Uh, yes. When?"

"As soon as possible. How about tomorrow?"

"Sure, I can come tomorrow."

"Good, see you." He hangs up.

I go back to my laptop and print out two pictures: One of Sarah Orzechowski, and one of Ryan Ross.