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“Did you need me to get anything else?” she asks. Before I can say anything, she barks, “Jackal, quit touching things. You’re going to get us in trouble.”

“Sibby, focus,” I snap.

“Sorry,” she mutters, but not before hissing out another demand to Jackal. Nothing is actually being touched, but if Sibby believes it is, she might try to fix it and then actually mess something up.

It’s vital that Jimmy doesn’t notice anyone’s been in his office, even more so with it being so tidy. He might get paranoid and forgo using any of the USB drives.

I’ll completely wipe the cameras, but you can’t wipe physical evidence so easily.

“You did great, Sibby. Leave the room. Don’t touch anything else.”

“It wasn’t me touching things—yes, I’m telling on you, Jackal. You’re the one acting like an idiot.”

Addie stifles a smile, and I decide that while Sibby is a complete pain in my ass, she’s good for Addie. She makes us all feel a little more… normal.

Sibby makes her way out of the building without a hitch, up until she rounds the corner and smacks right into someone’s chest.

The bodycam is knocked off, the camera rolling so only the sidewalk can be seen.

“Sibby?” I ask, my heart rate kicking up a notch. Her face is plastered all over the country. News outlets, social media, and so forth. If this person recognizes her, we’re fucked.

“Oh, shit,” the guy says, his voice muted. “Are you okay, miss?”

“That really hurt,” Sibby groans. “You smell like a berry tree, though, so I’ll let it slide.”

“Oh, no,” Addie whispers. “Sibby, you can’t say stuff like that. It’s known that you associate your victims with smell.”

Sibby quietens, which allows us to hear the man’s response clearly.

“What an odd thing to say.”

“I am an oddball,” Sibby says in a strained laugh. He must help her up based on the grunt and ruffling sound.

“Thank you for helping me,” she says, a hint of nervousness in her tone.

“Yeah, of course. Guess I should look where I’m going next time,” he responds easily. Some of the anxiety seizing my chest lessens until I hear him speak again.

“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?”

“No, I’m new to town,” Sibby says. Her voice hardening.

“Stay calm,” Addie says softly.

“Man, you look so familiar. You don’t have any family around here?”

“I’m from the East Coast, silly. But I have to go, see ya!”

“Don’t rush,” I tell her.

“He’s still staring at me,” she informs, her breathing escalated. “Mortis was probably freaking him out. People don’t take kindly to them outside of the haunted houses. Not used to their makeup and all that.”

“I’m sure Mortis was fine,” Addie assures, staring intently at the computer, even though the camera was left behind.

Luckily, it only takes her a few more moments to get to the car. She swings open the door and nearly dives into the backseat with a relieved sigh.

I waste no time backing out of the parking space. For several tense minutes, everything is quiet. But in typical Seattle fashion, we’re balls deep in traffic and getting even a few blocks away takes more time than I’d like. Just as Addie releases a relieved sigh, convinced we’re in the clear, a cop car rings their sirens from a couple blocks down, followed by flashing lights.

“Shit,” I mutter, confident that we’re the target. We’re both trapped between cars, but already the other vehicles are starting to veer to the side to let the cop through.