In the dank concrete police station Detective Ash asked me questions. As long as I kept talking he seemed pleased, and I didn’t have to think about those photographs in the manila folder. As long as I kept talking, Danielle seemed alive.

“What was she doing in that motel room?” Ash said.

“I don’t know.”

“Was she seeing anybody?”

“She didn’t mention anyone.”

“Who did she meet at the motel?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I told you everything she said.”

“Was she turning tricks?” he said.

“What?” I said.

He regarded me with this patient unwavering gaze, oddly intimate.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“Did she ever do anything like that before?”

“Sort of,” I said.

“Tell me about that.”

“This was years ago,” I said. “We were like nineteen.”

“Okay.”

“She had a job dancing at Dolls. This regular at the club, this rich guy, he was really into her. He offered her two thousand dollars to spend the night with him.”

“What happened?”

“She did it. It was a lot of money. And he was nice. She liked him, too. I mean, she knew him, it’s not like he was a stranger.”

“What was his name?” he said.

“Tom, Tim, maybe. I can’t remember.”

“Where did they spend the night?” he said.

“A fancy hotel. He was rich.”

“Was that the only time?”

“No, she saw him again. A few times, I guess. It didn’t seem dangerous. Danielle felt like she’d pulled off a scam, in a way. All that cash in one night—she said it was easy.”

I remembered thinking it wasn’t that big a deal. I might have done the same thing, if I’d had the opportunity.

“Were there others?” he said.

“I don’t know,” I said. “We stopped hanging out.”

“How did she get along with her mother?” he said.

“She didn’t. Danielle hated Sally.”

He waited for me to say more. I hesitated. Even if she was dead, they were still her secrets.

“Talk to me, Charlotte. You’re helping Danielle by talking to me.”

His hand touched my arm. His warmth in the cold room felt like a terrible kindness.

“Sally expected Danielle to go to some fancy school and join the Junior League or whatever. Danielle wasn’t interested in that world.”

The detective nodded, made some notes.

“What else?” he said.

“Isn’t that enough?” I said.

“You tell me.”

“Sally worked all the time. She was never around. They weren’t close, that’s all.”

He kept me there a while longer, asking question after question, repeating himself. I went through the same information three, four times. I was too tired to cry. And finally, it ended. He called to the other cop, who walked me out to a squad car. Ash stood by the building with his arms at his sides while bugs danced under the yellow streetlight. It had stopped raining. The police car smelled of old socks, dirty plastic. I stared out the window the whole way home.

CHAPTER THREE

By morning the city was hot and muggy, awash in dirty yellow air. I changed clothes and went for a run. I headed towards the museum district, where buildings of cool stone rose from the ground. I followed the crushed granite trail behind the zoo, circling the park, passing the man-made pond. I jumped over steaming puddles and jogged home through the neighborhood, brushing the elephant ear begonias that draped over the sidewalk. Some of the broad leaves sagged, broken by the heavy rains. Sweat soaked my clothes. I ran fast, trying not to think, but I couldn’t keep Danielle out of my head.