thought of him, though. But when I got into his room he was gone. Climbed out his bedroom window.’
I lower myself to the ground. ‘What time was this?’
‘God, I dunno. About eleven? He probably had to wait hours for a train.’
‘You really think he got on a train?’
There’s a pause before Mason asks, ‘Don’t you?’
‘I don’t know what to think.’
‘His bike was found at the train station,’ he says.
I turn my face towards the door. ‘Did you plant it there?’
‘What?’
‘To make it seem like Henry had run away.’
There’s a surprised scoff on the other side of the door. ‘Wow. Wow. Is that really what you think of me? That I did something to Henry? Is that why I’m locked in a shed right now? Unbelievable!’
‘Did your mother do something to him?’
‘Well, yeah! She did plenty. She belittled us, broke our stuff, verbally abused us. But she didn’t murder my brother, Chloe.’
Without thinking, I kick the shovel aside and let the door swing open. I need to see his face. Mason is sitting with an arm resting over his bent knee, a torch on the ground by his side.
‘Why did you lie about being home that night?’ I say, standing in the doorway. ‘Why did your mother cover for you?’
He’s in no hurry to move. ‘Ivy was so hungover the day after the storm, it was after ten or so before she realised Henry wasn’t home and hadn’t slept in his bed. She knew she’d have to start ringing around, and if anyone came over they’d see the state of the place.’ He shifts, stretching the muscles in his neck. ‘She made me clean up the mess, and then she came up with the cover story and told me to stick to it. She said she was sick of everyone in town judging us. She didn’t want them sticking their noses in.’ He shakes his head. ‘I seriously think she believed Henry would turn up at any moment and the whole thing would blow over.’
‘Why didn’t you tell Doherty the truth about where you were?’
Mason hangs his head. ‘There were … circumstances that I didn’t want anyone to know about. It seemed easier to roll with Ivy’s story because none of the other stuff changed the fact that Henry had run away.’
I think of how Raf and I kept the truth about our whereabouts that night from Doherty for similar reasons.
‘And you’re sure your mother was home?’ I say. ‘She didn’t lie about where she was?’
‘I don’t know exactly what time I got in. It couldn’t have been later than one, though – I’d only been out for a couple of hours. She was definitely passed out on the couch in front of the TV when I came home. That part wasn’t a lie.’
‘And you never saw Henry at any stage while you were out?’ I say. ‘Not even when you drove to the train station?’
Mason glances up. ‘I never drove to the train station.’
‘Yes, you did. Rina saw you.’ I pull out my phone and click open my Notes file, scrolling to the details Rina gave us in Hyde Park. ‘Around one-thirty to one forty-five she saw your car drive along Railway Parade and pull into the station. It stayed there for a while and then came back out onto Railway Parade and continued south.’
Mason frowns. ‘I was in bed. I didn’t go out again. Rina must’ve seen a different car.’
‘She was pretty certain it was yours.’
‘Yeah, she told me she saw my car that night, but I denied it because I had to stick to my mother’s story. I thought she meant earlier though, before the storm, when I drove to the graveyard.’
I shove my phone back into my pocket. ‘Your mother then. If she’s not opposed to pinching your car—’ I gesture towards the carport, ‘—maybe she took it that night as well.’
‘Nup. She was well and truly passed out. Believe me, I know how her drinking habits play out. I’ve had plenty of experience.’
‘So Rina’s mistaken?’ I say. She’d seemed so certain, especially since she’d been making her own mental notes in order to confront Mason.
‘I mean, the only other person—’ Mason stops. He stares past me at a spot outside in the darkness, as if something’s coming back to him.
‘Mason?’
He suddenly clutches his stomach. ‘Oh my god.’
The storm
Henry was relieved to find the motel laundry open. He watched on through the doorway as the gutters overflowed and the wind got beneath the shade sail, shaking it