Free The Reviver by Seth Patrick

laptops were on a small portable table, while Never sat on a camping stool, one he’d found to be more comfortable than any chair he’d used over the years.
    ‘I like your seat,’ said Bob Crenner as he came in.
    Smiling, Never indicated one of the equipment bags he and Johnson had brought from the car. ‘There’s a spare if you want it.’
    ‘I’ll stand.’
    ‘Suit yourself. Detective Johnson suggested we’d have a crowd,’ Never said, looking around the conspicuously empty room.
    ‘What people want and what people get are two different things. We’re bare bones on this. Senior officer, revival co-ordination officer. Nobody else.’ That meant just Crenner and Johnson. ‘Unless Jonah gives the word for attendance. Have you heard?’
    He nodded. Jonah had put his head around the door briefly to let him know, and Never had been somewhat put out by the added complication. Still, he had no intention of letting Bob Crenner see that. ‘Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem.’ Usually it wasn’t, although Never always found himself tensing when relatives entered the scene. Particularly as they stepped over his cabling. Nobody had ever tripped, nobody had ever knocked over a camera, but he still fretted.
    After telling him about the parents’ attendance request, Jonah had left to psych himself up for the revival, and Never knew the routine. Jonah tended to get panicky about now, sometimes to the point of throwing up, even with his medication. A lot like stage fright, Never thought, and he supposed it served a purpose – emptying the stomach in advance, when it wouldn’t really matter.
    Detective Johnson entered a moment later. Jonah followed, pale and anxious.
    ‘How’re you doing?’ called Never.
    ‘Ready to go,’ Jonah said. ‘The parents are waiting with Nala George in the forensic tent outside.’
    Johnson was holding a radio in his hand. He waved it. ‘I’ll let her know if Jonah gives the go ahead.’
    ‘OK,’ said Crenner, then he turned to Jonah. ‘When you bring her back, we get her statement first. Standard stuff, then we’ll play it by ear. But there’s a complication…’
    Jonah nodded. ‘The abuse allegation? Ray mentioned it. He also said you don’t think there’s anything in it.’
    ‘No, but the question’s been raised and there’s enough to warrant taking it seriously. We’ll have to deal with it. Tread carefully.’
    ‘I will.’
    ‘Good luck, Jonah. You ready, Never?’
    ‘Few more seconds.’
    Jonah, Crenner and Johnson fell into silence, finding themselves looking at the screens on Never’s table, the face of the dead child looking back. The only sound was from Never’s fingers on his laptop keyboard, finishing his preparations. At last the sound stopped.
    ‘I’m all set,’ Never said.
    Jonah’s earpiece sat on Never’s table. Wordlessly, Jonah picked it up and left the room, closing the door behind him. A moment later, he was visible on the wide-angle shot of the living room as he entered. He closed that door too, stepped carefully to Nikki Wood’s body, and knelt.
    Thinking of her parents, he pulled the sides of her pyjama top together. Some of the buttons had been torn free when the paramedics had opened it, but there were enough left to hold it in place.
    His practised hands ran over her throat, palpating the flesh to determine the extent of rigor. It was present, but not yet a problem. He removed the glove from his right hand and put the earpiece in place, then looked at the camera ahead of him. The flow of adrenaline was stirring up nausea and panic. He took some long, steadying breaths until he had settled again.
    ‘Ready,’ he said. The red light on the camera went green. ‘Revival of subject Nikki Wood. J. P. Miller, duty reviver.’
    *   *   *
    Jonah shifted his weight. His left knee, on the carpet, had started to ache a little. He decided to change position. The right knee stayed where it was, the left leg came up onto the foot. It felt better;