Free Jericho Point by Meg Gardiner

He was gasping, as though he couldn’t get oxygen.
    ‘‘Don’t you remember?’’ I said.
    He shook his head. Was he lying?
    ‘‘She’s blond with a blue streak in her hair. Wearing your mother’s charm bracelet.’’
    He went stone still, not even blinking. Until he grabbed the door handle. I slammed the power lock button.
    ‘‘Tell me her name,’’ I said.
    His fingers dug for the handle. ‘‘Let me out. I’m going to be sick.’’
    ‘‘Then be sick. Tell me her name.’’
    He glanced at me in panic, and away. ‘‘Brittany Gaines. Open the door; I’m gonna heave.’’
    I unlocked it. He hurtled from the car and fell to all fours on the wet brickwork. He spewed with an awful horking sound. I counted to ten, got out, and walked around to him. His head was hanging low.
    At the front door, Sinsa leaned against the jamb, pursing her lips. ‘‘Wow, Deadly. You have a helluva way with men.’’

8
    Ignoring Sinsa, I crouched down to face him. ‘‘They thought it was me. She had credit cards with my name on them.’’
    He moaned. ‘‘This is unreal.’’
    ‘‘You mean fake? Counterfeit? Like the ID you helped her steal from me?’’
    ‘‘This has to be a mistake,’’ he said.
    ‘‘Whose idea was it, yours or Brittany’s?’’
    ‘‘You can’t be serious.’’ He climbed to his feet.
    ‘‘Do you need the money to support your habit?’’
    ‘‘I don’t have a habit.’’
    ‘‘What do you spend per day?’’ I nudged him against the car. ‘‘A hundred bucks? Two hundred?’’
    He put his hands up to ward me off. ‘‘Stop it.’’
    I cupped his cheeks and forced him to look at me. ‘‘It was brutal, P.J.’’
    He pressed his lips together, looking like an obstinate toddler, and squirmed. I braced to stop him from bolting.
    He started to cry.
    His chest gulped in and out. He slid down the side of the car and buried his head against his knees. If I ever thought he’d had a hand in the young woman’s death, I didn’t now. I waited it out. Looking at the house, I saw no sign of Sinsa. After a minute P.J.’s tears subsided.
    ‘‘Who was she?’’ I said.
    ‘‘My neighbor. The apartment next door.’’
    I pictured the Don Quixote Arms, and the curtains twitching on the window next door to P.J.’s place.
    ‘‘Did you take her to the party?’’
    ‘‘No. No way.’’
    ‘‘You sound sure of that,’’ I said.
    ‘‘I was trying to cool things with her. That’s the last thing I would have done.’’
    ‘‘So, you were buddies? The same kind as you and Sinsa?’’
    ‘‘Now and then. It was nothing heavy.’’
    I clenched and unclenched my fists. This had just turned ten times worse.
    ‘‘Get real. You gave her your mom’s bracelet. It was more than that.’’
    He flushed. ‘‘It’s not like Mom ever wore it anymore. I gave her that dolphin charm, but she wouldn’t wear it. Not after Jesse . . .’’
    He didn’t say the rest. Red spots mottled his face.
    ‘‘Jesse’s ballistic, isn’t he?’’
    ‘‘We all are,’’ I said. ‘‘What do you remember about last night?’’
    ‘‘Jamming with some guys at the party. Then . . .’’ His gaze lengthened. ‘‘This morning. Dad woke me up.’’
    ‘‘What was Brittany doing at the party?’’
    ‘‘I don’t remember her there.’’ His eyes were red. He wiped his nose on his sleeve. ‘‘How come you came out there last night?’’
    I told him. With each detail he seemed to shrink.
    He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. ‘‘I tried to stop you from calling search and rescue? What the fuck is wrong with me?’’
    With a shard of wind, the rain came again. Sinsa appeared in the front doorway. P.J. furtively wiped his eyes.
    ‘‘You’re melting,’’ she said. ‘‘Come in.’’
    I shook my head, but P.J. clambered to his feet, holding his stomach, and trotted inside. I found him at the fridge, drinking milk from the carton. The kitchen was an echo chamber of