Not Quite Dead Yet, page 24
“I know,” Jet said.
“He just wanted to see you,” Henry said, quietly. “It wasn’t him, Jet. JJ didn’t do this to you, I promise.”
“How could you know that?” Jet pressed him, keeping her voice light so he didn’t realize he was being pressed.
“I just…” he trailed off, no answer.
Jet would have to press harder, then, more like a push.
“Hey, maybe you can invite us in this time?” She stepped forward, one foot up over the doorstep, crossing the threshold without permission.
“Um, OK.” Henry blinked, beckoned them inside. “It’s all a bit messed up, from when the police searched it.”
“What were they searching for?” Jet followed Henry down the hall, Billy closing the front door behind them.
“Took the clothes he was wearing on Halloween. Some of his mail too.”
Henry gestured them into the living room, no messier than she remembered it.
Jet sat down in her old spot, on the corner of the faded red couch, Billy slotting in beside her, too close, his hands balled into fists on his knees.
Henry took the armchair. That was where JJ normally sat.
Jet cleared her throat, still raw from the smoke, or maybe from the crying. “The police say they have enough to charge JJ,” she said. “When I die, Henry—and I am going to die—that will be a first-degree murder charge. JJ won’t ever get out of prison, if they convict him. You get that, right?”
Henry stared down at his own lap. “He didn’t do it.”
“If that’s true, then you have to help me, Henry. To help JJ.”
He chewed the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know how to help you, I don’t—”
“—I’m going to tell you a few things I’ve learned since yesterday.” She leaned forward. “Stop me if I go wrong anywhere. You did work for Mason Construction. And I don’t know when it started, but Luke arranged to pay you off the books, probably in cash. Knowing Luke, he probably sold it to you as a good thing, for both of you.”
Henry’s nostrils flared, just for a second.
“And that was fine, you were working on the project over on North Street, in March, signed for some scaffolding rental. And then your accident happened. But you didn’t get stupid drunk and fall off a wall like you told everyone, did you? Something went wrong at the construction site, and the roof collapsed on top of you. That’s how you shattered your knee, lost sight in one eye, injured the other.”
Henry closed his eyes, like he was hiding them, couldn’t trust them not to give him away.
“But the thing is, if you weren’t an official employee of Mason Construction, it meant you didn’t have access to workers’ comp or health insurance. You haven’t stopped me so far, Henry; am I on the right track?”
He opened his eyes.
“And that means you would have had to pay the hospital for all of it, all the surgeries, the treatment, the overnight stay. And I can imagine that was an unpleasant surprise. A lot of money. And maybe it was only then that you realized just how much Luke Mason had screwed you over. That would make anyone angry, Henry. Angry enough to want revenge. You still haven’t stopped me.”
Henry shook his head, wouldn’t look at her. “No, I don’t know what you—”
“—I guess you want your brother to die in prison, Henry?” Jet’s voice dropped even deeper, sharpening the edges of the words. “Thought he was your best bud. That’s cold.”
Henry glanced at the cupboard to his right, then back to his lap, squeezing his own hand, so tight it must have hurt.
His eyes danced from Jet to the ceiling, chest rising, filling, too much, too far, his shoulders rising with it.
He let it all go. His hand. His breath.
“Luke said it was just temporary,” he said quietly. “While he was sorting something out with the company.” Henry wiped his nose on his sleeve. “He said it was legal. I didn’t really realize what it meant until…until it was too late.”
Jet’s heart kicked up, back in her chest where it belonged.
“So I’m right, about all of it?”
“Yeah,” Henry croaked. “It happened at that house, on North Street. Luke drove me to the hospital after.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone, Henry?”
“Because Luke didn’t want me to.” He glanced at the cupboard again. “He said he would pay me, that he would cover all the medical costs as long as I never told anyone. He’s been transferring money to me every month, so I can pay off my debt to the hospital, but it’s not enough, never enough. I told him I needed more. A lot more.”
Jet swallowed. “Did JJ know, about all of this?”
“No. No.” Leaning hard on that second no. “Luke meant it when he said I couldn’t tell anyone. JJ still believes the drunk-wall story. But he knows I have to pay the hospital back. He’s been helping me pay it off. I don’t know what I would have done without him. He’s been taking on more clients, working extra shifts at the gym, just working, all the damn time, for me.” Henry’s eyes went back to his lap, to his empty hands. “He borrowed money until they wouldn’t let him borrow any more, because we couldn’t pay it back, because it was all going to the hospital, and it still wasn’t enough.”
“Jet,” Billy said, voice vibrating through the back of the couch, turning to her. “The loan JJ took out in your name. This is why he did it.”
“What?” Henry sniffed.
“You didn’t know about that?” Jet asked. “It’s part of the police’s case against him. He took out thirty grand in my name. Defaulted on the first monthly repayment. The police think that gives him motive for my murder.”
Henry’s eyes widened.
“I didn’t know,” he said, little more than a whisper. “I’m sorry, Jet. JJ wouldn’t…he wouldn’t have done anything like that if I hadn’t…we’re just desperate. Only got worse after that other eye surgery. And it didn’t work. We need to find another eleven thousand or I’ll go blind, but we can’t—we can’t, we’re out of options.” The words chased each other out, moving faster than his darting eyes. “Already in so much debt. Can’t pay our rent anymore. They’re gonna kick us out soon. And now JJ’s been arrested, and I can’t do anything for him. He took care of me, our whole lives, and I can’t do anything for him. Don’t have the money to bail him out of jail, if it comes to that. To pay for a lawyer. It’s all fucked. This is all my fault.”
He dropped his head into his hands, pressing his fingers into his eyes.
“It’s not, though, is it?” Jet said, treading carefully. Because Henry had talked himself out onto the edge, and he had a gun. He knew where it was, and they didn’t. “It’s Luke’s fault. He did this to you, put you in this position. You got injured on his work site. And now he’s the one paying you to keep quiet about it.”
Henry raised his head a few inches.
Jet kept going.
“It’s Luke’s fault, Henry, not yours. He did this.”
Henry straightened up, looked at her eye to eye, though neither of them could see too well anymore.
“Do you hate him, Henry?” she said. “For doing this to you, putting you in this position.”
He didn’t answer.
“Did you want to do something about it? Punish him?”
Henry sniffed. “No, no, it wasn’t about that. I just wanted the money. I don’t want to go blind, Jet. I’m scared. I just wanted the money. That’s why.”
Jet’s gut twisted, bile rising in her throat. Was that a confession? Had she…had she done it? Had she really just solved her own murder?
“You thought attacking me would make Luke pay up? Did you mean for it to go that far—did you mean for me to die?”
“Wait.” Henry’s face darkened. “What are you talking about? It wasn’t me, Jet. I didn’t hurt you, I would never—”
“—Where were you on Halloween, at 10:46 p.m.?”
She stood up.
“I was here.”
Henry stood up too.
So did Billy, straightening to his full height, shoulders wide.
“Alone?” Jet said. “You know alone doesn’t count as an alibi, don’t you?”
“I—I—” Henry stuttered, shrinking back. “I wasn’t alone.”
Jet tilted her head, surprised by that. “But you told the police that you were…Who—who was here, Henry? Who was here with you?”
Henry swallowed, taking the name with him.
But Jet didn’t need him to say it. She got there on her own, new pieces clicking into place, filling in the gaps.
“Luke,” she said. “Was Luke here?”
Henry nodded, barely, the smallest movement up and down.
Jet’s chin dipped, creating more space for her head as it all came together. “Sophia texted Luke at 10:52 p.m. asking him to call her, because he wasn’t at home, he was here,” Jet said, looking at Henry but speaking to Billy. She glanced down at her own knuckles, a Band-Aid across the palm of her left hand. “They lied to the police, said Luke was at home too, to give him an alibi. But not an alibi for my murder, for something else.” Jet shifted, tried to catch Henry’s eyes. “Because he was here, beating the shit out of you, wasn’t he?” Jet didn’t wait for an answer. She pointed with her good hand. “Black eye, cut lip, bruised ribs—that happened to you on Halloween night, Henry. And Luke had matching grazes on his knuckles from that same night, and he lied about how he got them. Because he was here, wasn’t he? And he did that to you?”
“Yeah,” Henry sniffed, another check over his shoulder to that same cupboard.
“Why?” Jet pressed, her voice softening, now she no longer thought she was speaking to her own killer.
Henry shrugged. “I just wanted the money, that’s all. Was desperate. I messaged Luke, told him that if he couldn’t get me the money, then I’d have to speak to your dad, see if he could help me out. The company is his, and I thought that maybe he could—I don’t know…I didn’t threaten to tell the cops or anything. It was just your dad. Luke saw me trying to talk to him at the Halloween Fair. He intercepted, stopped me. Then he came over to the house and…” Henry swallowed, eyes faraway. “He wanted to make sure I’d never do something like that again, never try to tell anyone.”
The silence was thick, too thick, burrowing into Jet’s ears.
“Is that why you bought the gun?” Billy said gently, not quite breaking the silence, skirting just below it. “Were you scared of Luke coming back?”
Henry blinked. “Luke can be scary.”
Jet sniffed. Luke wasn’t scary, he was just Luke. To her at least. But the Luke she knew wasn’t all of him. Not Sophia’s Luke. Not Henry’s.
“What time was Luke here?” Jet asked Henry.
“I remember when he left,” he answered. “I looked at my phone right after, wondered if I should call 911. That was 10:56.” Henry held Jet’s gaze, returned it. “He was here less than ten minutes.”
Jet looked at Billy instead, finding the same strange look behind his eyes as she must have in hers.
“So you didn’t kill me, Henry,” she said, barely more than a whisper. “You had an alibi.”
“And so does Luke,” Billy said darkly, like he’d really thought it possible, even for a moment, that Jet’s brother could have been the one to kill her.
Two suspects, canceling each other out. And where did that leave them now? So many questions answered, just not the one that truly mattered.
But someone had tried to kill Jet again, twelve hours ago, and even though the theory was neat, made most sense, it might not have been the same person who took a hammer to her head five days before.
“Did you burn down Mason Construction last night, Henry?” she said. “You have more reason to hate the company than most. Did you set fire to it?”
Henry’s eyes narrowed. “It burned down?”
“Where were you last night?”
“I was here.”
“Alone?”
“Alone,” he answered.
Jet sighed. “You know alone is not an alibi.”
“I was alone,” Henry said, more power behind his voice.
“OK.”
Jet glanced at the cupboard that Henry kept looking at, pointed to it.
“Hey, Henry, can I borrow your gun?”
“What?!” That was Billy, not Henry, though Henry parroted him half a second later.
“Someone tried to kill me on Halloween, and again last night,” she said. “I think I’d feel better having a gun around, if they try a third time.”
Henry didn’t move.
“And if I die before figuring this out, then JJ will probably spend his whole life in prison for my murder.”
That did it.
Henry shuffled over, bending to open the cupboard door.
He reached inside and pulled out the gun.
Stopped.
Stared at it, turning the black pistol around in his hands, a muscle twitching in his jaw.
Jet watched him, those words still ringing in her ears: Luke can be scary.
“You won’t have to worry about Luke,” she said. “I’ll deal with him, OK, Henry?”
“OK.”
Henry turned the gun one last time, then held it out by the barrel, aiming back through his own chest.
Jet reached out, wrapped her left hand around the grip, the gun heavier than she expected.
“Safety’s on. It’s loaded,” Henry sniffed.
“Thanks.” Jet lowered it to her side. “You can have it back when I’m—”
“—Yeah,” Henry said, so she didn’t have to finish. “Bye, Jet.”
Jet turned to go, catching Billy’s face, beckoning him with her eyes. He wasn’t happy, she could tell by the set of his mouth.
“Do you even know how to use a gun?” he asked as they crossed the doorstep, shutting the front door behind them.
“Yeah, it’s just point and shoot,” Jet replied, hiding the gun against her leg.
Billy opened the passenger-side door for her, hand folded over the top as she climbed in the truck.
“I can point and shoot.” Jet looked up at him, the gun resting in her lap. “Even with my left hand. It’s not rocket science, Billy.”
He closed the truck door, jogged around to the driver’s side.
Jet leaned forward to open the glove compartment, shoved some of the papers aside to make room for the gun.
“It can live in there,” she said, closing the compartment as Billy sat down, clicking in his seatbelt. The gun out of sight but not out of mind, either of theirs.
“Jet, I don’t know about this—”
“—It’s just a precaution,” she cut him off, tempering it with a small smile. “Someone also tried to kill you last night, Billy, or didn’t care if you were col-coll-co—”
“—Collateral?” he guessed.
“Right.” Jet nodded. “And you’re not dying anyway, like me. You’re alive, have to keep on living. It’s just a precaution.” She patted the glove compartment.
“Oh shit,” Billy said, his phone in his hands, scrolling through. “I’ve got loads of missed calls. From your parents. And my dad. Hold on.” He tapped the screen, raised the phone to his ear. “There’s a voicemail.”
He listened, the low buzz of a voice rattling from the speakers, words too fast and too fuzzy for Jet to understand. But she understood that look in Billy’s eyes as he turned to her, lowering the phone.
“It’s Dad. He says they need to speak to you at the station. It’s urgent.”
Twenty-Four
“It burned down?”
Jet’s voice pitched up, joining her widened eyes in feigned surprise.
“It’s all gone.” Jack Finney sat across the table from her, Chief Jankowski beside him, squeezed into those too-small metal chairs.
“We’re still waiting on the full report from the fire department,” the chief said, his chair creaking, sighing, as he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table. “But this is a clear case of arson. An accelerant was used. The whole place would have gone up in minutes.”
The whole place did go up in minutes; Jet knew, she’d been there, stood on the very edge of hell, its heat still prickling in the burn on her hand. Jet eyed it, dropped the hand into her lap, hiding it under the table.
“Acc-acce—” she began, couldn’t find the word the chief had used, one she’d lost out the hole in her head.
“—Gas,” Jack said, helping her. “Someone poured gas all over the first floor, set fire to it.”
“That’s terrible.” Jet swallowed. “Who would want to burn my dad’s company down?”
“That’s what we wanted to talk to you about,” the chief said.
Jet met his gaze. “Do you think it’s related to my murder? That it was the same person who burned down Mason Construction? But JJ is in custody, so that means—”
“—We’re just considering if there’s a connection,” the chief cut her off. “Nothing concrete yet. We wondered if you knew anything that might help us?”
Jet pressed her lips together. “No, sorry. I don’t know who would want to do that.”
“And where were you last night, Jet?” The chief opened the file on the table, clicked his pen as it hovered over a blank page.
Her chest tightened, heart reacting to the question before she could.
“I’ve asked a lot of people a similar question the past couple days.”
Not an answer, and not a lie.
The chief clicked his pen twice more. “So, you understand why we have to ask it, don’t you?”
“Sure,” Jet said. Now she had no choice but to lie. She kept her face blank and her reddened hand in her lap. “I was home. Billy’s apartment, I mean. That’s where I’m staying.”
