Page 94 of Not Quite Dead Yet

She slammed the door behind her.

They still had a jack-o’-lantern on the front porch, uneven toothy smile that was closer to a smirk, like Sophia’s, upside-down triangle eyes, just starting to soften and sag.

Jet let it take over, the rage, starting in her gut, chewing on her doubled-up heart, clawing behind her eyes. She smashed her heel down onto the jack-o’-lantern and the pumpkin exploded, orange innards everywhere. She stamped again, and again, until it was flat, just chunks and the little stringy goo that held them together.

It helped, actually, to pretend it was Sophia.

The rage burned itself out, but Jet suddenly lit up, here on the porch. A spotlight – no, two. Covering her eyes against the glare.

Headlights.

A car pulling up on the drive, parking beside the blue Range Rover.

It was Luke, coming home from work.

Jet scraped the pumpkin guts from the sole of hershoe – these Birkenstocks, man, been through a lot this week – and hurried down the steps, reaching the car before Luke had even switched the engine off.

Left hand. She grabbed the passenger door handle and opened it, dropping inside, shutting them in together.

‘Um, hi.’ Luke stared across at her, keys clutched in his hand. Scabs starting to peel off his knuckles.

‘Yeah, um, hi,’ Jet replied.

‘Did you just smash our pumpkin?’ He looked through the window beyond her.

‘Yeah, I was mad,’ Jet said, no hesitation. ‘Where’s my list?’

‘What?’

‘The list of Mason Construction employees, Luke.’

Luke pinched his nose, sighed. ‘Fuck, Jet, I forgot.’

‘You forgot?’ Jet leaned closer, a new glimmer of rage with a different face. This one lived in her chest. ‘Not like this is life-or-death or anything, Luke.’

‘I’m sorry.’ His eyes flashed, catching the moonlight, reflecting it back at her. ‘Work has been crazy, with the North Street site shutting down and –’

‘– Is there a reason you don’t want me to see it?’ Jet said, knowing there must be, that there was something more here. ‘Because you’ve sure been stalling a lot.’

‘I just forgot, sorry.’ He looked down.

‘I don’t think you would forget. You know I have three days to live, how important this is to me. What’s going on, Luke?’

‘Huh?’

‘Just tell me. I know something’s going on.’

‘There’s nothing going on.’

‘You didn’t kill me, did you, Luke?’ Jet laughed but it was cold, empty, not quite sure of itself.

His jaw tensed, chewing on the stale air inside the car.

‘You seriously asking me that?’

‘You weren’t here, at home, during the time when I was attacked. I know you lied about that.’

He sniffed. ‘Yes, I was. Me and Sophia –’