He needed to be smart about this. Compartmentalize. Put the funeral, Danny’s attack, out of his mind. One bite at a time.

“That was the FBI.” His tongue was still thick from the booze, but he was sobering up. The adrenaline was like a full pot of coffee. “My brother—he’s been badly beaten.”

“Oh my goodness,” she said. “Is he going to be okay?”

“We’re waiting to hear.”

She sat next to him on the bed.

Matt stood. Buttoned his shirt. Gesturing to the bed with his chin, he said, “I’m sorry about…”

“Another time.” Jessica blushed again.

Matt wasn’t sure there would be another time. And for some reason he was okay with that. For now he needed answers from her. Straightening himself, he walked downstairs to the bar.

He picked up the glasses and napkins and tiny straws they’d knocked on the floor, piling the debris on the bar. He reached over and grabbed the neck of the bottle of bourbon.

Jessica watched him, confusion on her face. “Are you okay?”

Everyone kept asking him that. He tipped back the bottle. It stung his throat, then warmed his insides. “The FBI also figured something out.”

Her eyes lifted to his. “Oh yeah?”

“They know who sent the video of the party to my sister.”

Jessica’s eyes didn’t leave his. Eventually she looked away. Her expression, what was it? Guilt? Worry? No, resignation.

“Why?” Matt said.

The word hung there forever.

Finally: “You know how long I thought about you?” Jessica said.

“Why?” Matt said again, ignoring her question.

“Everything changed that night,” she said. “My life was ruined.”

He had no idea what she was talking about. And it was pretty rich saying that to Matt, of all people.

“Ricky was never the same. I knew something had happened with Charlotte. I knew it. Then he crashed his car into that tree, and I’ve been having to care for him ever since.”

She’d previously made her brother’s crash sound like an accident, but she was suggesting something else now.

“What are you saying?”

“I always had a feeling something had happened that night. After you walked me home from the Knoll, I saw Ricky. I told you that.” Her voice quavered. “He was shit-faced, fighting with his date. After that night, Ricky became withdrawn, depressed. Then he tried to kill himself. I wanted to ask him, but he gets confused now.”

Matt still wasn’t following, but let her continue.

“Then, last month, Ricky was at the bar the night news broke about the Supreme Court denying your brother’s case. People were giving toasts and buying rounds. After closing, he was trashed, and started crying uncontrollably. He wouldn’t tell me why. He just kept saying ‘they smashed her face, they smashed her face, they didn’t need to smash her face.’”

Matt’s heart tripped at that.