Page 63 of Not Quite Dead Yet

‘Jet,’ he said softly, from another world, the one that belonged to the living.

The touch of his fingers brought her back, warm and clammy against her shoulder.

‘Your phone,’ she sniffed, dropping the sandwich bag to hold out her hand. Grime was caked under her fingernails, dirt and concrete dust staining her palm gray.

Billy didn’t hesitate, placed his phone face up in her filthy hand.

Jet swiped for the camera and leaned forward, over the hammer.

She held her breath, the siren screaming in her head and her head screaming back.

Took a photo. Hand closer. Took another, and another, moving from its head to the claw, down its black spine, rubber ridges for better grip. Stopping over the logo at the bottom. A yellow circle with pointed ends, the brand nameColebyprinted inside. Took a photo. Tapped the screen to make it focus, took another.

The siren cut off, leaving just a phantom in Jet’s ears.

Three doors slammed.

‘What the hell is going on here?!’

They were all behind the gate now, yellow hats replaced with dark police caps, officers securing the scene, waiting for the forensic teams to turn up. More black-and-yellow tape –CRIME SCENE – DO NOT ENTER –being spooled across the flimsy gate.

‘You think you can get DNA from it?’ Jet asked Detective Ecker, knowing she didn’t have time for DNA. ‘Fingerprints?’

Ecker’s eyes flashed, mouth set in a grim line.

‘You should have called us.’ His voice was gruff, an edge of impatience. ‘You’re lucky we turned up when we did. You’ve heard of chain of custody, right?’ He tapped his pen against his notebook. ‘Some lawyer hears about the stunt you pulled here, they might be able to get that evidence thrown out in court.’

‘That’s a strange way of saying, “Thanks for finding the murder weapon for us.”’

‘Jet, please,’ he sighed. ‘You can’t do this.’

‘Do what?’

‘Get in the way of the investigation like this.’

Jet cracked her fingers, her back warm and aching. ‘In the way?I’ve made more progress than you have.’

‘Jet –’

‘– I’m running out of time. And I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty. See.’

She held them up for him, crusted with dirt and dust.

‘Jet –’

‘– I know you think it’s JJ, but doesn’t this change things?’ She gestured at the site. ‘Finding my phone and the murder weapon here. JJ has no connection to this place. But someone else does. Andrew Smith. This was his old house. He’sbeen watching the work, could have known the concrete was going in the morning after. He was wearing the exact same red wig as JJ on Halloween, so the hair at the scene could have come from him too.’

Ecker faltered, chewing the air. ‘How do you know about the hair at the scene?’

Jet blinked. ‘I … guessed?’

Ecker glanced over his shoulder, back at Jack Finney in his uniform, standing over there with Luke, Billy, and Jet’s parents. Shit. Sorry, Jack. Now he really would be in trouble.

‘Butifthere was a red wig hair found at the scene,’ Jet continued, ‘that makes Andrew Smith just as much a suspect as JJ. And don’t just tell me you’re not ruling anything out, again.’

‘I’m not ruling anything out, suspects either. And the red hair doesn’t limit us to just two options.’

‘Well, the other matching red wig was on an eleven-year-old girl, so I think –’