Not Quite Dead Yet

Lou Jankowski, their newish chief of police, and Jack Finney, who lived opposite the Masons; always had. ‘Hello Jet.’ Jack gave her a familiar smile, tall and broad-shouldered, the gray in his dark hair creeping into his stubble. A driveway this big and there was hardly any space, white vans and dark vans and police squad cars all boxed around Jet’s blue truck, trapping it there. They were on Hartland Hill Road, the road out of town, not quite out of it yet, and they never would be, because Dad’s offices were coming up on the left. ‘Pull up over here.’ Jet pointed through the windshield. ‘Don’t go down the drive. About not returning to the scene of the crime?’ Jet walked over to her brother, feet crunching in the fallen leaves.