Page 86 of Not Quite Dead Yet

Open door.

Sophia.

Blue dress and denim jacket.

Baby Cameron on her hip, a clean red pacifier in his mouth now.

Nothing in Sophia’s hands this time. But there wassomething in her pocket, the same-shaped lump the pill bottle had made just over an hour before.

Jet pointed.

‘She has the pills in her pocket still.’

‘Is she bringing them back?’ Billy asked the screen as the front door closed behind Sophia. He clicked on the next video, recorded three minutes later.

Sophia time-jumped, walked back out of the house with Cameron, turned to shut the door behind her. The pocket of her denim jacket was flattened, the lump gone, which meant –

‘– The pills are gone,’ Billy said.

‘She must have put them back.’

They turned to each other, eyes hooking on.

‘Is that what she was doing all of these times? Mom’s birthday? Halloween. Coming in to take my pills and then bring them back?’

Billy swallowed. ‘You think she’s doing something to them?’

Jet reached forward, slammed the laptop shut, the sound echoing in her chest. Because what the fuck else could Sophia have been doing?

‘Only one way to know for sure. Come on. I left the pills at home. Mom and Dad are at the North Street site – we need to go now, while they’re out. Can you … can you help me with my jacket?’

19

Jet waved to the doorbell camera, waved to her laptop back at Billy’s apartment, waved to whoever might watch this footage after the end of this week, waved beyond the grave and even farther than that.

She slotted her keys in and pushed open the front door. It still smelled too clean in here, a chemical bite to the air even after three days. Billy coughed behind her.

A skittering of claws on the polished wood and Reggie rounded the corner.

He yipped when he saw Jet, speaking to her, yelling. Something like:Where the fuck have you been, hi, hi, hi, I forgive you already.

He jumped up, scrabbled at her legs.

‘Hello handsome Sir Reginald the Woof.’ Jet dropped to her knees, left hand scratching behind Reggie’s ear. ‘Who’s a good boy, huh?’

His tail wagged his whole body, climbing up on her thighs to reach her face, nudging her lifeless arm with his nose.

‘I can’t do the double scritches anymore, bud, I’m sorry.’ Jet scratched even harder with one hand, Reggie leaning his head into it, eyes hooked on hers, almost the same shade of hazel. ‘You’ll have to ask Billy very nicely.’ The dog squeaked. ‘But Billy is nice, so he’ll say yes.’

Reggie looked up at Billy, tail smacking Jet as he rested his head on her shoulder. She hugged the dog with one arm.

‘It’s better this way,’ she said quietly, resting her chin on the dog’s fur. ‘I thought I was going to have to watch you diesomeday, after I stole you from Mom and Dad, obviously. Now I’ll be the one checking out first. Sorry, bud. I would’ve missed you, and I know you’ll miss me.’

Billy bent over them, cupped both hands behind Reggie’s ears and scratched away, his knuckles grazing Jet’s neck.

Reggie closed his eyes and groaned.

‘Yeah.’ Jet smiled. ‘That’s the good stuff, huh? Told you Billy will look after you. He’s good at that, huh? Better than me?’