Sophie
Bradley, as indelicate as he was at spying, was definitely well-organized.
From her seat on the big red couch that served as the centerpiece of her large living room, Sophie scrolled over the dozens of security files he sent her. She sat like a gargoyle, shoulders aching, spine curved over her laptop, which rested on the glass coffee table. It has to be old age; I can’t even work on the couch anymore. Regardless, she was nearly done; Bradley had made the work simple. Each video was clearly labeled and grouped with similar files. Each file itself edited down to the pertinent info.
He was making his case with this collection.
The least she could do was look at the clips.
So she sat back, her little terrier jumping up and settling on her lap, and made herself comfortable.
At the very least, it was interesting.
She had started with the Paula folder.
She’d quit after complaining multiple times about the place being infested with spiders.
I’ve never even seen a spider in the store.
If anything, they seemed to avoid the place, like most other wildlife.
In the first clip, she seemed to be startled by nothing while sweeping the entrance. In the next, a total freakout in the backroom.
This was why Sophie had to pay for two separate pest control visits. Paula had demanded a fumigation, but with all the food, that wasn’t something Sophie could humor.
She’d quit the next day.
Next was Mark, another story she knew. Complained about howling from the treeline behind the store. Talked about eyes following in the dark. Refused to work evenings or start at the required times for the morning shift.
All of his videos were of the back entrance; they showed him checking over his shoulder, sometimes sprinting to get back inside after throwing out the garbage…and then the final clip.
He walked out the back door and out of frame into the woods.
Mark never returned for his next shift.
Sophie pet Casey, trying to ignore her sore back and remind herself not to slouch. That would only make things worse. She set the little dog to her side and leaned back to her laptop.
She knew these stories; why did Bradley think this would make her change her mind?
Then she saw it, his trump card.
The last folder, marked Kat.
She scrolled through multiple; two of them showed Kat running back to the store after taking out the garbage. Was she experiencing whatever Mark had?
No, the labels didn’t match.
Check the lower right.
She restarted the video and watched her niece making her way to the dumpster…sure enough.
A figure watching from the shadows.
She started the next clip: right-side window.
There, someone was watching her while she worked. Standing outside of the store, looking in…for hours.
Ok, weird, but.
She scrolled…there were 14 different clips. All with unique dates.
Sophie leaned back in her chair. It really was getting worse.
She felt Casey tap the side of her leg head.
He looked up at her, his eyes almost lost in his long hair. Casey was big for a yorky, but still small by any other standard. Except in character, and his big brown eyes were full of energy.
Sure, he probably just needed to go out. But in those eyes, Sophie could swear she saw fear. Not for him…nothing so selfish.
“Ok, Casey, I’ll let you out.”
The little dog sprang up, tail wagging.
Sophie could use the stretch anyway. Besides, she wasn’t going to be swayed, not even by hours of footage.
What Bradley wanted was unreasonable.
She scrolled up and closed the email, its subject line flashing for one last moment.
We need to burn it down.
Want more? Sign up for the ARC Directive to get early access to chapters, unlock exclusive horrors, and step deeper into the dark — only on Patreon.
