“Stop it,” I say to her, shaking my head.

“Stop what?” Dad says, frowning.

“Nothing. I was…” I can’t tell him I was talking to my dead sister.

I didn’t lie, I say to her silently. I just didn’t tell them everything.

You didn’t tell them how often we went to the house, she says. You didn’t tell them we were friends with him. Why didn’t you tell them?

It wasn’t relevant, that’s why. It would have looked bad—like it looked bad to Sophie and I didn’t even tell her everything. It would have sent them looking in the wrong direction, focusing on the wrong things. Just like this supposed fight Dad had with Greg.

“It’s not relevant,” I say to Dad. “Your fight with him doesn’t matter. It’ll make them suspicious of you when you didn’t do anything. You should be home here with Julia, not wasting time at the police station.”

I start pacing again and the Bella in my head paces with me. I’m telling myself as much as Dad. It’s not relevant. We worked in the garden together, that’s all. Why give them reason to look at us more closely? We didn’t do anything.

“Tess, are you okay?” Dad says, getting up.

“I’m fine. Fine. Worried about you, that’s all. Why does Jack have to stir everything up?”

“His father is dead.”

“And we had nothing to do with it. Nothing.”

“But what if I did?” Dad says, his voice shaking. “I hit him, knocked him down. What if he had a head injury?”

“What—and then he went home and buried himself in the woods?” My voice rises as I echo Jack’s words.

Dad’s pale. He looks smaller and older. He doesn’t meet my gaze and it sends a jitter of fear through me.

“It’s not lying, not really, if you just deny it,” I say. “Or…or just make it sound less like a fight and more like a…a minor disagreement. It’s your word against Jack’s. They won’t be able to prove anything.”

It’s like Bella steps out of my head. I swear I can feel her breath on my cheek. How many more lies? she whispers.

“What did you tell the police?” I confront Jack the moment he comes downstairs.

There are shadows under his eyes.

“Leave it, Tess,” he says, getting the coffee out of the cupboard.

“Leave it? You’ve sent them after my dad.”

He slams the jar down on the counter and turns to face me. “I told them the truth. My dad is dead. He has a fight with your father and two days later, he’s gone.”

“Do you really think his death has anything to do with my dad?”