I hesitate as I reach in my left pocket. I bite the inside of my cheek, worry building that they’ll search me and find the other phones. I hand my phone over. Four texts from Beverly scroll up.

Cleared. Why?

You’re not there, are you?

Answer me.

I’m coming. Stay put.

“Looks legit,” Officer Clyde says. “This is still a crime scene, though, as we search for more evidence. You shouldn’t be here.”

I watch the other officer with the gun, knowing some of their evidence is in my purse. My stomach swallows itself. Turning and turning.

“Thought we were done collecting evidence,” Beverly says.

“There’s an unaccounted piece of evidence,” Officer Clyde says.

“I’ll walk her out,” Beverly says.

“Think that’s a good idea?” the other officer says. “We should question her. Aren’t you in school? You got something you wanna share with us…?”

“N-no. Um, no, sir,” I stutter.

“We need you to point out everywhere you’ve been, so we can add to the report. You’ve compromised the scene,” Beverly says.

I look her dead in the eye and tell her the truth about where I hid. Tell her I was scared it was the killer, not the cops, which is true enough. But I don’t tell her about the phone. I want to see it for myself before I turn it over to Beverly. And only Beverly. Then I go over the exact path I walked.

“I noticed blood on the grass, leading to the building.” I point out the blood that was out in the open, not marked off with police tape. “I followed the trail to the building.”

Officer Clyde pulls out his report, flipping the paper back and forth. Then calls out to Beverly, “This wasn’t in the report. We need to call this in. Did you touch any of it?”

I shake my head no. Heartbeat racing that maybe this could help Jamal. Then they’d be forced to look closer at the evidence.

Even though I want to stick around and see what happens, I’m shaken up. I’m glad I’m able to say I got out of here.

Alive.

It’s like a tight cork has wound itself inside me since they came after Jamal. I know it won’t be long before that cork winds tight again, but at least there’s relief for a moment.

When I’m safely in my car, I reach for Angela’s phone. I brush it off and turn the power button on.

BABY GOT BACK BURNERS

The power shuts off almost immediately. Dead battery. But not before I see I need a passcode. Dirt and grime fill every crevice. I blow into Angela’s dead phone, each breath a lifesaving wish it’s not destroyed. I shove the phone back in my pocket, the weight of all its possibilities burning through my clothing, onto my skin.