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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.’