“Did Mr. Miller help you with that?”

“Client declines to answer,” Brewer says.

“Why?” I say. “Why does it matter? I was trying to save the house.”

“Have you heard of Kerpak Industries?” Hurt asks me.

“No.”

“Has anyone ever contacted you about the house?”

“The county,” I say.

“I’m not sure how any of this is relevant,” Brewer says.

“Anyone offering to buy it from you?” Hurt says. “For cash, maybe?”

“No,” I say. “Who would even want it?”

But I think about Bear. Someone always wants real estate.

“Client declines to answer,” Brewer says, before I can open my mouth.

“Have you seen his house?” I say. “He doesn’t want mine,” I say. “He told me to sell it.”

“Stop talking,” Brewer says.

“To who?” Hurt says. I watch his eyes narrow. I want to know what he knows, or what he thinks he knows.

I shrug. “Just to sell it,” I answer. “Why?”

“Did he give you any indication as to why that might be a good idea?” Hurt asks.

“Before it went to auction,” I say. “He said I could get maybe ten thousand dollars for it after everything—you know, once the taxes were paid.”

“Ten thousand dollars,” Hurt says.

“Yeah.”

Hurt looks at Kateri, who looks at the floor.

“Why?” I ask.

Brewer leans back in his chair again, his ankle crossed over his knee. He smells like a harsh cologne, grassy and acidic.

Hurt nods to Kateri.

“Shannon,” she says. “Your house is on a piece of land that is very, very valuable to Bear Miller.”

“What?” I say. My eye twitches again. “How? That doesn’t make any sense at all,” I say.

“Do you know what he does for a living?” Hurt asks.

Brewer holds up his hand to silence me, and I push it away from my face. It’s a reflex, a hand coming at my face, and even though he doesn’t touch me, I smack him away.

“Dude,” Brewer says, and stands up. He shoots a look at Hurt and says, “Can you do something about this?”

“Real estate,” I say.

I invest her interests.

“For?” Hurts says.

“His mother’s company?” I say. I’ve never actually seen him work. I had no idea what he was doing. “But not my house,” I say. “There’s a huge difference, if you haven’t noticed. Like a billion-dollar difference,” I add, which makes me sound like a stupid kid, and Brewer laughs at me.

Kateri draws a calm breath before she starts talking. “Kerpak Industries is developing luxury real estate,” she says. She nods at me. “That is his mother’s company.”

“Yeah, okay,” I say, “up on the hill. Not by my house.”

“Actually,” Kateri says, “they are. But they can’t build where your house is because your family, the Jenkins family—you,” she says, “own the land now.”

I shake my head. My stomach turns sour. “No,” I say. And I can’t think of anything that might disprove her, so I just say it again. “No.”