Page 163 of Not Quite Dead Yet

He stared down at the grass, and Jet stared at him, studied her brother, glowing in the spotlight. Hazel eyes, just like Jet. But those came from Mom. Luke was taller than Dad, bigger, stronger, hair shaved short, but when it wasn’t, it grew wavy. And something else too.

‘There’s a fifty percent chance you should have had polycystic kidney disease too,’ Jet said, working it out as she said it. ‘But not if Dad isn’t your dad. He’s not, is he?’

‘No,’ Luke croaked, looking over his shoulder at the burned bones of Mason Construction.

‘And you know who it is? Did Emily tell you who?’

Luke didn’t look back, eyes lost over there.

‘No, she didn’t. Didn’t have a chance. I only know because he told me.’

‘When?’

‘Wednesday. Before I saw you, before I got home from work that day. Before … the fire.’

‘Who is it?’ Jet asked, stepping closer, Luke’s voice too quiet, now he was looking the other way. ‘Luke?’

‘I thought he was just nice,’ he sniffed. ‘Looked out for me, gave me advice about the company. About anything really. Spoke to me in a way Dad never did. But when he told me, I think I already knew, deep down. I think I always really knew that Emily was telling the truth that day. That I wasn’t a Mason, thatthiswasn’t supposed to be mine.’ He pointed, over there, at the ruins.

‘Luke?’

‘He told me I was his son. He thought I already knew, from that day, with Emily. He told me and he said he was trying to help me. Said that you were going to start looking into the company, and that if I had anything to hide, then I needed to hide it.’ Luke looked behind him again. ‘Then I drove home, and you were there, told me that Dad was never going to leave me the company anyway, that he planned to sell it. I just … lost my temper.’

‘Luke!’ Jet snapped. ‘Who is it? Who’s your real dad?’

Luke shook his head, his eyes trailing off to the right. ‘I can’t tell you. It doesn’t matter.’

Jet raised the gun. ‘Yes, you can – and it does matter!’

‘You’re not going to shoot me, Jet.’ He stood up to prove the point.

The gun shook in Jet’s hand, too weak to hold it up this long, finger vibrating against the trigger.

‘I can’t tell you,’ Luke said. ‘Not like this, here. The rest of us have to keep on living when you’re gone. Don’t look at me like that, Jet. I don’t want you to be gone, you’re my sister. I’ll miss you every day. I don’t know how we’ll be a family without you. No one to make fun of my hair. I always lovedarguing with you. I’ll make sure JJ never gets out, for doing this to you. You won’t shoot me, Jet.’

She could.

She stepped forward, pressed the gun right up against Luke’s chest, looked up into his eyes, so like her own.

She could.

She would never. Not even after everything Luke had done. Jet wasn’t like him.

She lowered the gun and Luke actually smiled.

‘Fuck you,’ she sniffed.

‘I know,’ Luke replied.

‘You killed Emily.’

‘Emily’s death was an accident.’

‘How did you do that?’ Jet said, eyes filling again. ‘You were just thirteen. You were strong, but you were fucking stupid. How did you know how to make it look like an accident, her hair in the drain? Going over to play with Billy, to give yourself an alibi? How did you know how to do that?’

‘I didn’t.’

Jet swallowed. ‘You didn’t? Did somebody help you?’