Page 129 of Not Quite Dead Yet

Billy nodded, eyes ahead, circling little pixelated Dianne.

‘And if it was something bad enough for her to do that to Nina …’ he set Jet up.

‘Then maybe it’s something bad enough for someone to kill me over, seventeen years later.’

‘Well, shit.’ Billy slumped back.

‘Well, shit indeed.’ Jet joined him.

‘You think your mom will tell you what it is?’

‘I’m not going to give her much choice,’ Jet said. ‘She already lied her ass off, tried to stop us finding this video.I’d like more evidence before we go to her so she can’t just deny it, like she’ll try. It’s always someone else’s fault with my mom.’

‘What evidence?’

‘Emily’s secret,’ Jet said. ‘At least some idea of what it could be.’

She laughed to herself then – short, just a sniff.

‘What?’ Billy turned to her.

‘Just. I never could get out of Emily’s shadow. And now, with this last thing I’ll ever do … here we are again. Always comes back to her.’

Billy clapped his hands, bringing her out of that particular hole.

‘So how are we going to figure out Emily’s secret?’ he said. ‘A little tricky, considering both people who knew the secret are now gone. Do your parents still have any of Emily’s stuff? Her old phone?’

Jet shook her head. ‘She died seventeen years ago. And as much as they love to bring her up all the time, they also really wanted a big guest bedroom. There’s nothing left.’

‘OK. A little trickier, then.’ Billy pressed his fingers to his lips, splitting them into little pink quarters. ‘What year did she die?’

‘2008.’ That date seared into Jet’s brain, the day she won the regional spelling bee and life changed forever.

‘2008,’ Billy repeated. ‘And how would two sixteen-year-old girls have communicated in 2008?’

Jet sat up. ‘Facebook?’ She searched his eyes.

‘Facebook,’ Billy confirmed. ‘Do you think you could get into Emily’s account?’

‘I don’t think so. Maybe I could find out the email address, but the password? And it’s not like we have one of her devices that might still be logged in after all this time. Seventeen years.’

Jet followed that thought – her eyes too – over to the front door of Billy’s apartment, and beyond. ‘But Nina died only a year ago …’ she said, left it hanging there for Billy to pick up. He didn’t. ‘Do you think Andrew still has her belongings? Her phone, or her laptop? Her rose-gold MacBook?’

Now Billy picked it up, his eyes shifting, joining hers at the door.

He turned back. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘Oh, come on, Billy.’ Jet grinned. ‘You’re thinking the same thing.’

‘No, I am not.’

Jet stood up, winked at him.

‘What am I thinking, Jet? What are we thinking?’

‘Andrew will be downstairs in the bar, won’t he?’

‘Oh no,’ Billy said, deflating. ‘I know what we’re thinking.’

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