Page 174 of Not Quite Dead Yet

‘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 findthem, 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 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?’

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.

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