Page 3 of Not Quite Dead Yet

Luke bowed his head. ‘I remember.’ Of course he remembered, because that wasn’t the only thing that had happened that day.

‘Well,’ Sophia said, unaware of the dark memory she wastrampling over with her singsong voice. ‘We’re heading off. This little guy is getting grouchy.’

‘Aw, Luke, haven’t had enough protein today?’

Damn, he wasn’t even listening, craning his neck to look over the heads of witches and superheroes, toward the stall their parents were manning.

‘I gotta go rescue Dad now,’ he said, no goodbye.

‘Good little CFO,’ Jet muttered.

He heard, turning back, a flash behind his eyes.

‘At least I’m chief financial officer and not chief fuck-up.’

‘That doesn’t even match.’

‘Jet!’

‘That was Luke who swore, not me!’

Cameron fussed and Sophia sighed, watching Luke through the crowd.

‘I wish you two wouldn’t fight,’ she said.

Jet shook her head. ‘That wasn’t a fight. Just a normal conversation. You wouldn’t know.’

‘He’s under a lot of stress.’

‘He’s Luke,’ Jet said, ‘he’s always stressed. And I bet he managed to find time to play golf with Jack Finney and David Dale at least twice this week.Stressed.I knew him first, remember. Knew you first too.’

Because that was the real thing, that cold, barbed thing between Jet and Sophia. You go away to college and your best friend who stopped calling and stopped replying – and stopped caring – sets her sights on your brother instead. Anything to be in with the Masons. Jet didn’t know how to talk to her anymore, and she’d never say it, but she thought the baby was boring as fuck.

‘Well, I’m going to …’ She didn’t finish, didn’t really need to; Sophia looked just as relieved when Jet left her behind, disappearing into the thinning crowd.

People were starting to leave now, werewolves and serial killers jostling her. A ginormous cat costume headed her way, a mismatched human head bursting from its white-and-ginger-furred shoulders, cat head tucked under one arm. Jet recognized the human part: bald head and dark brown skin, eyes magnified by circular glasses. It was Gerry Clay. He was on the board of village trustees with Mom. Actually, Gerry was chair and Mom was vice, and Mom said she didn’t mind that when she was elected, but Mom was a bad liar.

Cat-Gerry was walking between two police officers. Not costumes this time, uniforms. Shields on their chests and guns in their belts. Lou Jankowski, their newish chief of police, and Jack Finney, who lived opposite the Masons; always had.

‘Hello Jet.’ Jack gave her a familiar smile, tall and broad-shouldered, the gray in his dark hair creeping into his stubble. Sophia used to call him a silver fox when they were teenagers, even though the silver part was pretty new.

‘Hi Mr Finney.’ She was supposed to call him Sergeant or something, but it had never stuck. Mr Finney was an improvement onBilly’s dadat least, and that’s what Jet had called him for most of her life.

‘Billy was looking for you,’ he said, like he’d read her mind.

Wow, Jet was Miss Fucking Popular tonight.

‘Sorry, Lou,’ Jack added. ‘This is Jet. Scott and Dianne’s daughter. Don’t know if you’ve met?’

‘Don’t know if we have,’ Lou said. His face looked mean, hard eyes, but his voice didn’t match, too soft. Yellowy-gray hair, close to mustard, and ketchup-ruddy cheeks. Clearly the man had never heard of retinol. ‘It’s been a pleasure working with your mom, and Gerry of course. Oh, that’s my wife, that scarecrow waving at me. Excuse me a minute.’

‘A pleasure?’ Jet said, watching the chief go. ‘He must have the wrong Dianne Mason.’

‘Ha!’ Gerry shouted it, not really a laugh. ‘You’re a funny one.’

Jet already knew she was a funny one. Sometimes that was all she had.

‘What do you think of your new boss, Jack?’ the half-cat half-Gerry asked, his attention on the retreating chief. ‘Don’t tell anyone I said this, Jack, but it should have been you. Made so much more sense to have a chief who’s lived here for decades, not some out-of-towner who doesn’t know anyone. Of course I voted for you. I don’t know why the other trustees – shit, don’t tell anyone I said that. But … it should have been you.’

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