Page 154 of Not Quite Dead Yet

‘I’m sorry about that, Jet.’ He sniffed. ‘I said we should have taken him out the back. He shouldn’t have spoken to you.’

But Jet was glad he had, because she was sticking on something JJ had said, something else left behind that the black hole hadn’t gotten to just yet.

‘Phone call,’ Jet said, resting her forehead against the cold bar. ‘Mr Finney, don’t I get a phone call?’

‘Yes. You do.’

‘Can I … can I do it now?’

He glanced through the bars into the cell, the shredded plastic cup around Jet’s outline, a phantom version of her, left behind.

‘Sure.’

He reached into his pocket for the keys, unlocked the cell door. A metallic scream from the hinges as he swung the bars open.

‘I’m … I’m supposed to cuff you,’ he said quietly.

‘OK.’

She couldn’t hold her wrists together for him, only one. Mr Finney had to bring her right arm around, lock her hands together, the cuffs looser than when Chief Jankowski had done it.

‘This way.’

He led her to the right, down the corridor, through the door, and into an office area. Desks and papers and windows, the fading afternoon light. And a landline phone attached to the wall. Black receiver on a thick metal wire, well-worn buttons.

Mr Finney led Jet over to it, hand soft on her shoulder.

‘You should call your dad,’ he sniffed. ‘He can get you the kind of lawyer that might be able to get you out of here, given your circumstances. He can afford that. Call your dad, Jet. He can fix this.’

Jet looked up at him, blinked. Call Dad. He could fix this, like he’d fixed things before, get Jet out, give her back hertime, time to finish what she’d started. Her head agreed with Mr Finney, but her heart was back, beating in the base of her throat, pulling her another way. A choice between the two, one or the other.

‘I only get one phone call, right?’ she asked.

‘That’s right,’ he replied.

Jet nodded.

‘Then there’s only one person I need to call.’

She chose.

‘What’s Billy’s number?’

Jack blinked down at her.

‘You sure?’

‘I’m sure.’

He turned to the phone, lifted the receiver, pressing the buttons with his other hand.

‘It’s ringing,’ he said, passing it to her.

Jet tried to take it, her dead arm too heavy to raise that high, dragging her other hand down. ‘I can’t.’

Jack took her hands, unlocked the cuffs. ‘Don’t tell anyone,’ he said, placing the receiver in her left hand. ‘I’ll just be over there, give you some privacy.’

Jet nodded, raised the phone to her ear.