“Yeah. She never had that. I mean, we were friends, we weren’t in love. What sucks is we had a fight.”

“What, you and Danielle?”

“Yeah, the night she died. If I had known that was it, I would never—I should have stayed out of her business.”

“What did you fight about?

“The inheritance. It was after she met with her mother. Her mom wanted to buy the land—”

“What land?”

“You know, her inheritance.”

“I figured it was money. Or antiques maybe. Sally never said anything to me about it.”

“No, there was an acreage. Danielle got one parcel of it and her mom got the rest. Her mom offered her three hundred grand. And Danielle wouldn’t sell.”

“Wow. I had no idea.”

My body flashed hot and cold, leaving goose bumps on my arms. How could Sally not have told me? It made no sense. Brandon was still talking and I tried to concentrate.

“I thought Danielle was nuts,” he said. “I mean, three hundred thousand dollars, can you imagine? She said I didn’t get it. Her mom was the most selfish person in the world, she could never trust her.”

“What else did she say?”

“That her mom used money to get whatever she wanted. Danielle refused to be bought. But with that much money she could buy a house, go to school, whatever. She could have financed my business, we could have expanded, made some serious cash. She wouldn’t listen to me. She was mad. I told her what I thought—I didn’t know it was that big a deal. We never argued before, not once. She yelled at me for half an hour, then she packed a bag of clothes and left. I figured she’d call and apologize.”

“Then she went to the motel?”

“Yeah. I guess. She must have. I never saw her again.”

I could see why the cops kept questioning him. But they should be talking to Sally, not him.

“You look pale,” he said. “Smoke some more.”

He reloaded the bong and lit it for me. I inhaled the smoke and held it.

“She was so upset,” Brandon said. “I wish I’d stayed out of it.”

He took a ragged breath and wept quietly, trembling, baring the depth of his heartache, his exhaustion. At my touch he clung to me, and for a second I hated Danielle for dying and hurting everyone, making everyone sad.

“Charlotte,” he said. “Thanks for being here with me.”

“Of course,” I said. “It makes me feel better, too.”

He straightened, but left his knee touching mine. The connection between us grew like the slow filling of a pitcher, a simple promise I knew would be kept. I quit thinking about Sally and Danielle and thought about his leg against mine, and how he needed me. We hit the bong again, though I was already high. He busied himself with the white powder on the plate and snorted half.

“Try this,” he said. “It’s not a lot. It won’t send you into a hole, it just takes you away a little.”