Not Quite Dead Yet

Not Quite Dead Yet — Chapter 33

‘Billy, what are you doing here?’ ‘Hi, Dad.’ Billy placed his phone on the side table, screen hidden, watched his dad come down the painted blue stairs, slowing down, unsure.

Still wearing his suit.

Billy wearing his too. ‘I thought you’d still be over at the Masons’, at the funeral,’ his dad said, reaching the final step.

Billy sniffed. ‘Oh, I’m going back. But there’s something important I have to do first.’ Dad narrowed his eyes, the ghost of something new behind them. ‘Why did you leave the funeral early, Dad, after the church? Don’t think

people will notice?’ Dad swallowed; more sure, or less? ‘I don’t need you to talk,’ Billy said. ‘Not really. Stop me, if I go wrong anywhere.’ Billy didn’t feel brave, but he did when he thought of Jet, her dangerous little smile, used her words instead of his own. ‘Luke Mason is your son. You –’ ‘– I don’t know what you’re talking about, Billy. Look, this has been a hard day for you. Why don’t we –’ ‘– I said I don’t need you to talk.’ Billy didn’t raise his voice, didn’t need to. ‘I know, Dad. While Jet was dying in my arms, Luke came here, to you.

Because you’re his father. You and Dianne Mason lived right across the street from each other and were having an affair, and it didn’t stop when Luke was born. You kept going. Right up until the day that Emily Mason died. Want to know how I know that part?’ Billy didn’t pause. ‘Because Mom suspected it. Except she thought it was something else. I’ve been

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coming here, reading her work diaries. She’d make little notes in them, Dad. Lists. Observations. Nothing too bad, nothing you’d understand if you just read them, if you didn’t know what she was thinking.’ ‘Billy, I –’ ‘– Times and dates she saw you leaving the Masons’ house, when you were supposed to be working late. She didn’t pick up on it at all, not until 2008 – that’s when she started to notice. But here’s the thing. I don’t think Mom thought you were going over there to see Dianne. She thought it was something else. She thought you were going over there to see Emily. A sixteen-year-old girl.’ Dad stepped back, eyes stretching, too much white around them. ‘Yeah.’ Billy sniffed. ‘That’s what Mom was scared of. And then we get to that day, the day Emily Mason drowned. He was already wet. Before.

That’s what Mom wrote. We thought she was talking about Luke, but she was actually talking about you. Mom couldn’t be sure, but she was scared that it was really you – that you’d killed Emily, then made it look like an accident. She got that wrong, but that’s what she thought. She stayed, but she must have been terrified of you. And then, seven years later, Jet goes to her, asks Mom to change her grade on a paper. She talks about Emily, uses that to try to make Mom feel guilty, that you were supposed to go check on Emily and Luke. Jet didn’t know why it upset Mom so much, but I do now.

Whatever Jet said, it confirmed something in Mom’s head, what she was already scared of. That you’d killed Emily, that it was your fault. That’s why she packed her bags and left that night, Dad, never looked back.’ Billy swallowed. ‘It wasn’t about me, it’s not because she couldn’t love me. It was because of you.’ Something healed when he said it, a patch across that hole he’d been carrying around in his heart.

Dad backed up a little more, heels hitting the wooden step. ‘But Mom didn’t get it all wrong.’ Billy kept going. Had to keep going.

For Jet. ‘You were wet already when you came back to the house that day, before we all found Emily. Because you did go check on Emily and Luke, just like Dianne Mason asked you to. And that’s when you saw what Luke had done. Your son, and he’d killed the daughter of the woman you love.

Maybe you thought you were doing the right thing, that Luke was just an angry kid, that he didn’t really mean it, I don’t know. You made it look like Emily drowned by accident. Pulled her to the bottom of the pool, wrapped

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her hair through that drain. Then you brought Luke over here to give him an alibi. Made us play soccer. Threw that ball into the bushes so you could fabricate a reason Luke had those scratches all up his arms, made a big deal out of it, so me and Mom thought the same. He had the scratches before, Dad. I remembered. And then you sent me and Mom over to the Masons’ to find Emily’s body. You did that. You did all of that.’ Not a ghost behind Dad’s eyes anymore, but a sheen of tears. He blinked them back. ‘And Dianne blamed you for Emily’s death. She blamed other people too, but she blamed you, Dad. Because you didn’t go check on her kids when she’d asked you to. Except you had, you could just never tell her. That’s when your relationship ended. It must have been going on for fourteen years, maybe longer, but it ended when Emily died. I know, because Mom stopped making notes about you working late in her diaries. She thought it was Emily, and it stopped when she died. I guess she was right in some way.’ ‘Billy,’ Dad said, just that, but Billy’s name sounded strange, out of shape in his mouth. No one said his name quite like Jet had; no one ever would. ‘That must have made you feel angry, that the woman you loved stopped loving you, even though you did what she’d asked, that you were just trying to protect her from the truth about Luke. Did you think that was unfair?’ One tear, catching in his dad’s stubble, soaking in. ‘But you keep in touch with your son, with Luke, as he grows up. You look out for him. Play golf with him, twice a week sometimes. You’ve never asked me to play golf.’ Billy sniffed. ‘He doesn’t actually know, all this time, that you’re his dad; he just thinks you’re being nice. You give him advice about the company. I don’t know, maybe it was your idea, when Luke told you the company was going to go under – maybe you gave him ideas of how he could save some money, turn things around. Luke must have told you about his big project on North Street, his chance to prove himself. How the foundations were going in soon, and he must have been nervous to get it right. But why did you care so much about Luke getting the company? Was it about Scott Mason – was it about him? The man you thought had taken everything from you – the woman you love, your son, that big house over there that makes ours look so small. Did you want to take his company from him as some kind of revenge? Did that mean you’d

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won somehow, if Luke chose you, if Luke was yours and the company was too?’ He didn’t wait for his dad to answer, didn’t need him to, didn’t want to hear his denials or his excuses. ‘And now we come to Jet,’ Billy said, trying to hold his voice straight. He couldn’t. It cracked, right down the middle. ‘To Halloween. The night you

killed her.’ Dad shook his head. ‘Stop!’ Billy said, a flash of rage, hand itching at his side. ‘Don’t do that, do not do that, Dad. I know.’ He swallowed it back, the fire, had to move through it. For Jet. ‘Jet told me something Gerry Clay said to you both that night. That he’d voted for you for chief of police. You didn’t know that before – you couldn’t have. You probably assumed both Dianne and David Dale had voted for you, that you’d lost the rest of them to Lou Jankowski.

So when Gerry Clay told you he’d voted for you, you must have realized what that meant – that Dianne Mason had voted against you.’ He searched his dad’s flickering eyes, knew he was right. ‘Did that feel like another thing that had been stolen from you? You’d wanted that your whole life, to be chief of police, and Dianne, the woman you loved, she didn’t want to have to spend any time with you, so she gives it to a stranger over you.’ Billy glanced down at the phone on the side table, face down so Dad couldn’t see. ‘You were already angry. But that wasn’t even what tipped you over the edge, was it? Maybe everything could have been OK if it was just that. And then the fight happens, Andrew Smith shoves me and you come over to break it up. That’s when one of the red wig hairs transfers to you, Dad.

Then, or when you’re escorting Andrew home to his apartment, right next door to mine. And at some point, when you’re walking him back, or once you’ve got him inside, Andrew Smith tells you. He thinks it’s funny. That Luke Mason isn’t going to inherit Mason Construction, because Scott is planning to sell it to someone else. And, what’s even worse, he’s going to sell it to Nell Jankowski, the wife of our new chief. He stole chief of police from you, and now he was going to steal the company too, your son’s company. That’s how you saw it, wasn’t it? And you realized that Jet was the only person standing in the way. You had time to think it through – it wasn’t just the anger of finding out, a spur-of-the-moment thing. You planned it.’

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Billy shifted, getting there now, cold metal digging in against his flesh, tucked beneath his shirt. ‘You let yourself into my apartment after leaving Andrew’s, with the key you know I keep under the mat outside. You go to that tool kit you bought me when I moved in. I’d never even used it. You open it and you find what you’re looking for, something you can kill a person with. You find the hammer. You get in your car. You drive home, but not to come home, to go to the Masons’ house. Out of the car, around the side of the house, so the doorbell camera doesn’t catch you. You know that Scott and Dianne will be cleaning up after the fair, that Jet will be home alone. Maybe you try that side door, and if it had been locked, maybe you would have let it go, gone home. But it wasn’t locked. Nothing stopped you. You went inside the house and you killed her. Hit her twice in the back of the head. Then, when she was on the ground, one last hit to the side of her head, to really make sure. She was dead – we all thought she was dead, including you.’ Billy’s voice caught, a snag in his throat. ‘The dog is screaming, making too much noise. Neighbors will hear that. You don’t have much time. You take Jet’s phone, and you grab a dish towel on the way out, to wrap the hammer in.

You drive to North Street, only takes a couple of minutes. You need to hide the phone, because that makes it look like the killer was someone Jet was in regular contact with, maybe her ex-boyfriend. And the murder weapon, because that weapon is a link back to me, which means it’s a link back to you. But you know somewhere you can put them, where no one will ever find them, because concrete was going to be poured on top in just a few hours’ time. You remember to turn Jet’s phone off, just before you get there.

You think no one will ever find them at the construction site, that they’ll stay buried forever. ‘Then you wait in your squad car for the call to come in on the radio.

Rushed over to the scene like you were just a cop, doing his job. I bet you didn’t expect that I’d be the one to find her. You didn’t plan that, did you?’ Tears stung at the corner of Billy’s eyes. He’d had to do that twice. Hold the woman he loved in his arms as she lay dying. ‘But Jet didn’t die. Not yet.’ Billy’s eyes blurred, doubled, the world splitting, just until he blinked and the tears raced to his chin. ‘It was Jet who figured most of this out, not me. She did it. We just needed a couple more hours, that’s all we needed. Then Jet would have known it was you too. She died not knowing.’ He cried, couldn’t stop it now. ‘I would have let her die

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thinking it was me, so that she had that. I was going to give her that, I wanted her to have that, I thought she needed it.’ But Jet hadn’t needed the answer in the end, Billy knew now. She’d found something else, more important. And Billy had learned something too, when he was holding her, when the world was coming to an end, crashing down around them and he confessed because he thought he had to.

He’d finally let something go in that moment.

Not the girl he loved – that would never leave him – but his need to be loved back, to fill the hole his mom had left in his heart.

Billy could be loved, and he had been. He kept Jet’s letter close, folded inside his jacket pocket, even now. Especially now, the day she went into the ground, buried forever. ‘That’s right, isn’t it?’ he choked. ‘All of it. Most of it. You killed Jet for Luke, for yourself. Because you were angry, because you felt betrayed by Dianne, because you thought there was this life that had been stolen from you and you wanted to punish Jet’s parents for taking it. Punish the woman you loved who now hated you, by taking her other daughter. You chose Luke, because he’s the person you care most about in this world. And to do that, you took the person I care most about in this world. Look at me, Dad!’ ‘Billy, I don’t know what to say.’ He raised his hands. ‘I think you’re grieving, and you’re confused.’ ‘You do know what to say!’ Billy’s voice cracked again, a thousand pieces. ‘Jet wanted you to confess, so confess!’ He reached behind him, under his shirt, fingers gripped around the cold

metal.

Billy pulled out the gun.

Aimed it at his father’s chest.

He didn’t shake.

The world shook around him, but Billy stood still. So still.

Dad stumbled back, tripping on the stairs, hands raised above his head as

he landed, hard.

‘Where did you get the gun, Billy?’

‘Confess, Dad!’ ‘Billy, I –’ Billy flicked the safety off, pointed higher, at his head. ‘– Confess,’ he said, didn’t need to shout, had no voice left for it. ‘Did you kill Jet?’

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His dad flinched, raised his hands higher, in front of his face, shielding his head. ‘Yes. Yes, Billy, I did. You’re right. Please, put down the gun.’

Billy didn’t move.

‘Are you sorry?’

‘Billy.’ ‘Are you sorry, Dad?’ His head slumped, eyes crashing to Billy’s feet, more ghosts behind them now, too heavy. ‘Yes,’ he said, barely a whisper. ‘Yes, I am.’ ‘Why?’ Billy still didn’t shake. ‘Why are you sorry?’ Dad lowered his hands, pressed them against his chest, crinkling his dark suit. ‘It was when we arrived at the construction site, after you’d found the phone, the hammer. I was watching you, Billy. Saw the way you looked at Jet. It’s the same way I used to look at Dianne. I didn’t know.’ ‘That I loved her? That I’d loved her every single day since I was a little boy? That she was everything to me?’ ‘I’m sorry.’ He hung his head, made Billy aim at the gray hair on top. ‘Would you have still killed her, if you’d known?’ ‘I don’t know, Billy,’ he cried. ‘I don’t know why it happened. I was just so angry at everyone, at everything, and I only saw one way out, didn’t stop long enough to think it all through. Something else took over, like the day Emily died. I just did what I had to do, to protect Luke. To help my son.’ ‘But I’m your son too!’ Billy roared. ‘I’m yours too! I’m the one who was here, who was always here! And you never even saw me, especially

after Mom left!’ ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘Sorry doesn’t bring Jet back. She’s gone, Dad. I lost her.’ His chest seized, closing in around his heart, hiding it. It belonged to Jet, always would, he thought. But it belonged to Billy now too, shared, one

half each. ‘Where did you get the gun, Billy?’ ‘This.’ Billy flicked his gaze to the gun in his right hand. ‘It belongs to Henry Lim. He let us borrow it. Doesn’t want his brother to go to prison forever, for killing Jet. JJ didn’t kill Jet. I know you tried very hard to make it look like he did, wrapped a neat little story around all that circumstantial evidence. Was it hard to convince Detective Ecker, or was he happy to take the easy way out, the simplest explanation?’

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‘Billy –’ ‘– I can’t live with that, Dad,’ Billy sniffed, pushing on before he lost his nerve. He wouldn’t lose it, because Jet was right here with him, and she was the brave one, dangerous little smile and her old-man laugh. ‘I’m the one who has to live, that’s what Jet told me, and I can’t live with this. You, getting to walk around with her blood on your hands, while JJ goes to prison for the rest of his life for something he didn’t do. All for Luke. Why did you do this?!’ Billy’s voice grated, tearing at his throat. ‘Why do you care about Luke so much?!’ ‘Because he’s mine!’ Dad cried. ‘And because he’s Dianne’s. He’s ours!’ ‘And you think Luke would have wanted you to do this? Kill his little sister?’ Dad put his hands up again, eyes dark and urgent. ‘He would understand,’ he said. ‘I did it for him. I look out for him, always have. He won’t have the same life I did, people taking what should have been mine.’ He shook his head, something stirring in his eyes as he stared down the barrel of the gun.

Billy tightened his grip. ‘I promised Jet, as she was dying, that I was going to finish this for her. So that’s what I’m doing.’ ‘No, Billy, no!’ Dad begged. ‘Don’t kill me. Please. Put the gun down!’ ‘OK.’ Billy loosened his grip, the gun swinging around his finger. He placed it on the table, beside his phone. ‘OK?’ Dad was confused, gaze flickering between Billy and the gun. ‘I’m not going to kill you, Dad. I hate you, but I’m not like you,’ Billy said. He picked up his phone instead, tapped the screen. ‘I got what I came for.’ Dad pushed up to his feet, wiped his face. ‘You were recording me, is that it?’ He gestured to Billy’s phone, lines of sweat striping his temple. ‘You think you can take that to the police, that they’ll arrest me and you get your ending?’ His face tensed, almost a sad smile, not quite making it. ‘That’s not how it works, Billy. A recording like that, it’s not evidence, it’s not admissible in court, especially as you coerced it out of me, a gun in my face. That’s not how this works.’ ‘I know, Dad. I’m not an idiot. I am more than you think I am. Not just poor, sweet Billy.’ He sniffed, waved his phone. ‘I wasn’t recording you.

But someone was listening. Just one person.’ The ghosts came back, behind Dad’s eyes, mouth dropping open.

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‘Who?’ he whispered. ‘Me.’ The voice rang out behind them, through the front door Billy had left ajar.

Luke.

Crisp white shirt, a black tie too tight around his reddening neck. His phone in his hand, by his side.

Dad swallowed, the color draining from his face, from his eyes somehow too, graying hair and grayscale skin. ‘Luke. I can explain. None of that was true. He was pointing a gun at me. I didn’t –’ ‘– You killed Jet,’ Luke said, voice dark and deep, something ticking by

his jaw, beneath the skin.

‘No! I just said that because –’

‘– I heard everything you said.’ ‘Luke, listen, I –’ Billy cut in now, stepping back, shoulder to shoulder with Luke. Half his brother, half not. This man they shared, shivering before them. ‘– No, you listen, Dad. I thought this would hurt you most,’ he said. ‘This ending.

You’ve lost everything for Luke. And now you just lost him too.’ Luke sharpened his eyes, that earthy green, so like Jet’s.

Dad shook his head, staring at Luke. The only son he saw. ‘I asked you,’ Luke said, a growl hiding behind his voice. ‘The night Jet died. I asked you if you had anything to do with it. You swore to me. You said it wasn’t you. You lied! You killed her!’ The growl didn’t hide anymore, splitting his words in half, that temper rearing, up his throat. Billy stepped back from him, half a step. ‘Calm down, Luke.’ Dad raised his hands again. ‘Let’s talk.’ ‘Don’t tell me to calm down!’ Luke couldn’t stand still, vibrating inside his funeral suit. ‘You killed her!’ ‘I was just trying to protect you, Luke. I did it for you. All for you.’ ‘Why?!’ Luke roared. ‘So I’d get the company, is that all?!’ ‘You deserve it – it should be yours!’ Luke balled his hands, knuckles straining through the skin, almost healed. ‘Why? It won’t make me happy. There are more important things. My sister was more important!’ Billy looked at Luke. That was what Jet said to him in her letter, her final goodbye. Luke could be scary, Luke had a temper, but maybe Luke could change; maybe he was even changing right now, in front of Billy’s eyes.

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Was this what Jet would have wanted? She never got the chance to tell Billy the ending she would have chosen. ‘You’re right, Dad,’ Billy spoke up now, standing between them. ‘A recording wouldn’t have been admissible in court. But now there are two witnesses who heard your confession, both your sons. And there’s evidence too.’ He paused, pointed up the stairs. ‘That Coleby tool kit, I returned it to you, it’s in the closet upstairs. The police will find it when they search the house. We’ll tell them everything. We’ll go tonight, after the funeral, after I say goodbye to the girl I loved. Right, Luke?’ A click in the back of Dad’s throat. ‘It means nothing,’ he said. ‘You coerced it out of me, threatened me with a gun.’ Billy pressed his lips together. ‘I don’t see a gun. Do you, Luke?’ He turned back to look at Luke. Jaw still ticking, counting down to

something, hands itching at his sides. ‘Luke?’ His eyes darkened, neck strained, ridged with tendons, threads pulled too

tight.

‘I do,’ Luke said, lunging forward.

Billy didn’t have a chance to stop him.

He grabbed the gun from the table. ‘Luke, no!’ Luke raised the gun, pointed it at Dad’s head, finger on the trigger.

‘Dad, run!’ Billy barreled into Luke.

An eruption of sound, cracking the night into two. The before and the after.

Plaster rained down on Billy’s head, white dust on his jacket, a bullet hole in the ceiling.

Luke growled. He righted his arm, pointed the gun again, but Dad wasn’t

there anymore.

He was running.

Past them.

Out the open front door into the night beyond.

Luke didn’t hesitate. He shoved Billy back and chased after him, gun at

his side. ‘Luke, stop!’

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Billy’s legs flew, and so did his heart, fight-or-flight or something in

between.

This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Outside, Dad was past the fence, sprinting across the road, toward the

Masons’ driveway.

Luke on his heels, bearing down on him.

Billy followed. No thoughts. Just Jet. What would Jet do?

Three suits, one gun, stained silver by the same moon.

Up the drive, a dozen cars parked in messy rows.

Dad wound between them, colliding with a blue Range Rover. The alarm went off, a mechanical scream, red lights flashing.

Luke followed him, past the Range Rover, catching up.

Billy chose a different path. ‘Luke, no! There’s a better way!’ he shouted.

Dad had reached the house now, pummeling his fists against the red-

painted door.

‘Dianne!’ he screamed. ‘Help!’

Luke stopped behind Dad.

Billy behind him. ‘Dianne!’ Billy saw her, through the window into the living room. Red-raw face, black dress, peering into the darkness outside the glass, at the chirping car.

Luke raised the gun.

‘Luke, don’t!’ ‘Dianne! Help!’ Dad pressed the doorbell instead, that up-and-down song. The camera didn’t blink, watching this all happen. Inevitable now.

Luke swung his left arm forward, held the gun with both hands.

‘LUKE!’ A thunderclap.

Not inside Billy’s head, from Luke’s hands.

A flash.

Billy blinked.

Dad fell to his knees.

A spatter on the front door, a darker red, the color of hellfire.

‘No,’ Billy whispered.

Another crack, another burst of white.

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Dad fell to the ground.

He didn’t move.