Chapter 5 · Continued
Recall
Emails arrived. Meetings started and ended. Conversations happened around her that she barely registered.
Every few minutes, her hand returned to the phone.
Still nothing.
No reply.
No change in status.
The day stretched forward, slow and ordinary in a way that felt almost deliberate.
By late afternoon, her hope had thinned into something quieter.
Jane leaned back in her chair and rubbed her forehead.
“Maybe it was delayed,” she muttered. “A network thing…”
She picked up the phone and stared at the message.
“…From weeks ago?”
That didn’t make sense.
Not like this.
Not this clean.
She placed the phone down again, more slowly this time.
A few minutes later, it chimed.
Jane grabbed it.
Another message had arrived from the unknown number.
Not words.
An image.
She opened it.
Seymour.
He was curled up in his usual place on the couch, in the same position he occupied nearly every afternoon.
Jane released a slow breath. “…Okay.”
She looked at Seymour and then back at the screen.
Cam could have taken the picture.
Of course he could have.
He had always watched things.
Studied them.
Recorded them.
Jane’s shoulders lowered slightly. “That’s all it is.”
He must have taken the photograph before he left and saved it.
She glanced at Seymour.
He flicked his tail, completely unconcerned.
Jane looked at the image again, her thumb hovering over it.
“…You liked him.”
The words came out more softly than she expected.
That made sense.
Cam had spent more time watching Seymour than almost anything else—studying him and following him from room to room.
Jane swallowed.
“…You missed him.”
The thought settled inside her.
Not frightening.
Only strange.
And a little sad.
Then another possibility occurred to her.
What if Cam couldn’t compose an ordinary reply?
Jane sat straighter.
The plant list looked like data pulled directly from a catalog. The photograph could have been a stored file.
What if he could transmit existing information but couldn’t freely send text?
“…Pictures,” she said quietly.
The idea felt ridiculous as soon as she said it.
Jane laughed softly and shook her head. “Okay… sure.”
She raised her phone at arm’s length and took a quick photograph of herself with one hand lifted in a small wave.
Jane looked at the image for a moment and pressed Send.
It went through.
Then, as before, nothing happened.
She waited.
Several seconds passed.
Her smile began to fade.
“Yeah, that was—”
The phone chimed.
Jane blinked and looked down.
Another image from the same number.