“I didn’t,” I protest. But we can’t get into this right now. I check the corridor. Nothing. I shut the door but can’t lock it. Damn.

“It’s not that you left me for a girl,” Brent says. “But her. After what she did to you. To all of us. I cared so much about you, and you chose your worst enemy instead. How was that supposed to make me feel? And she was gloating about it.” He studies his hands as if they belong to a stranger. “The next thing I knew, I’d pushed her.” He breaks off. Shoves the side of his hand into his mouth.

A realization hits me. The hunch of Brent’s broad shoulders. It wasn’t caused by carrying bricks.

For a moment, the only sound is his muffled breaths as he fights for control. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. Well, I did. But not to kill her. It was icy. Her foot slipped out from under her; she fell backward hard and cracked her head on the cobbles.” He shoves his hand back in his mouth and bites down hard. Closes his eyes.

Something wrenches inside me. But at the same time, I can understand why he pushed her. There were times when I wanted to push her. She seemed to bring out the physical anger in all of us.

Brent’s eyes open. He stares at Curtis. “Say something.”

But Curtis just sits there like it’s too much to take in.

I put my ear to the door. Is she coming?

Brent rocks back and forth, watching Curtis with terrified eyes as he chokes the words out. “She wasn’t moving. I panicked. It was only eight and the lifts weren’t open for another half hour. No one was in the street. I didn’t have my phone on me but we were right outside her and Heather’s place, so I dragged her inside. She was breathing. I think. I told Heather to call for an ambulance.” He breaks off. Looks from Curtis to me. “Heather said they’d lock me up.”

Curtis’s jaw tightens, eyes intent on Brent.

“We . . . argued about it.” Brent swallows. “Heather hadn’t slept since that fight in Glow Bar and Dale was still in the hospital. It got heated. I left the room to calm down and when I went back in, Heather was bending over her.” His voice catches again. “Holding a cushion over her face.”

I clutch the wall. So they both did it. Heather and Brent.

“I grabbed the cushion. Asked her what the hell she was doing. Heather said, She’s a monster! Look at what she’s done to us all!” Brent stares ahead, eyes unfocused, as though reliving the horror of what he witnessed, and continues shakily. “If she wasn’t dead before, she was now.”

He bows his head. Curtis and I wait.