Page 176 of Not Quite Dead Yet

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 withLuke. 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 Lukecouldchange; maybe he was even changing right now, in front of Billy’s eyes. Was this what Jet would have wanted? She never got the chance to tell Billy the endingshewould 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 toyou, 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.

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