Page 85 of Not Quite Dead Yet

‘We have plenty of time,’ Summer Jet said, rushing out of the house, wearing the same Birkenstock clogs, not caked in mud. Both arms moving, hands in her hair, tying it into a stubby ponytail, so alive, so unaware that in four months’ time she wouldn’t be.

‘Is JJ coming tonight?’ Dad asked her. ‘We should get another pack of burgers, Dianne.’

That Jet scratched her head. ‘I think he’s busy. Maybe next time.’

This Jet skipped ahead to the next time the camera detected motion.

‘This is literally two minutes after we drove away fromthe house,’ Jet said, watching as Sophia’s blue Range Rover peeled into the drive once more.

‘Weird,’ Billy muttered. ‘Almost like she was close by, waiting for you guys to leave.’

‘Almost,’ Jet agreed.

Sophia got out of the car, wearing a denim jacket and a pale blue summer dress. She went to the back, pulled out a different baby again – even smaller, pinker, balder. Leaned farther in and emerged with a plate of red, white, and blue cookies, Saran-wrapped.

Cameron was fussing by the time she reached the door, grumbling through his pacifier.

‘I know,’ Sophia cooed at him. ‘We’ll just be a few minutes, I promise.’

She opened the front door, took the baby and the cookies inside with her.

Jet started the next video, four minutes later.

The front door opened and Sophia walked out, both hands around the baby, the cookies gone, left inside.

Sophia checked her footing on the front step just as Cameron spat out his pacifier, bouncing off the ground.

He started to cry, now his mouth was unplugged.

‘Oh no,’ Sophia said. ‘Mommy will get it, don’t worry.’

She bent forward, reaching for the green-and-white pacifier on the front path, and as she did, something fell out of her jacket pocket. Rattled loudly as it hit the ground.

‘Whoopsie.’ Sophia’s voice squeaked as she scrabbled for the white object rolling away from her, quickly stuffing it back in her pocket, a bulge in the denim. Then she grabbed the pacifier and walked to the car, Cameron’s screams building.

‘Wait.’ Jet rewound the video, dragging it back to the moment the white object hit the ground, too fast, too blurry. Jet paused, swiped her fingers on the trackpad to zoom in.

‘What is that?’ Billy asked, craning forward too. ‘A pill bottle?’

‘Yes.’ Jet zoomed even closer. The object too tiny, too pixelated, but she recognized that band of pale blue across the bottom, the illegible blurred black writing and orange numbers near the top. ‘Lotrel,’ she said, her heart picking up, echoing the word back. ‘Five ten. Amlodipine besylate. One hundred capsules.’

‘How the hell can you read that?’ Billy looked at her, impressed.

‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I don’t need to, I know it. Those are mine.’

‘What?’ The look in his eyes changed, a tiny storm in the blue again.

‘Those are my pills,’ Jet said, more sure now. ‘Lotrel. I recognize the bottle. It’s for high blood pressure. I have to take one every day for my kidneys. Those are mine.’ She zoomed out again. ‘Why is Sophia stealing my pills?’

Billy blinked, but it didn’t shake the storm. ‘Were they ever missing?’

‘No,’ Jet said. ‘I would have noticed. I take one every morning. They’re in the cabinet in my bathroom. Take it after I brush my teeth.’

Billy returned to the screen. ‘Did she come back this time too?’

AnotherMotion Detectedat 11:51 a.m. that day. Billy pressed play before Jet could.

Blue Range Rover.

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