Page 19 of You'll Be the Death of Me

“Correct. So, while the DAD is working on that investigation, the deceased”—he paused to point at himself—“have to wait for the official report to be filed before they can move on.”

Dell nodded, following along. “And how long does that take?”

“Long enough they offer you a job to pass the time,” he said with a tight smile.

A frown pulled Dell’s mouth down. “Wait, wait, wait. So, the people who accidentally killed you make you wait while they figure out what went wrong, and it takes so long that they make you work for them?”

“They didn’t make me. I opted to.”

“Why?”

“Because it was better than staring at the walls as I slowly forgot my life. See, the longer you’re waiting, the less you remember.”

Dell chewed her lip. “That sounds awful. How long have you been waiting?”

“About a year.”

“Ayear?!”

“I told you: very bureaucratic.”

“And you didn’t try to just bust out on your own?”

He straightened his tie and squared his shoulders. “I would never do something like that.”

“Pfft.Iwould. No way am I waiting on someone to scoot me along into the next lifefor a year.”

“Well, you don’t really have a choice,” he defended.

“Youalwayshave a choice.”

“She told me you’d be stubborn...” he muttered.

“What?” Dell asked, eyes wide. “Who told you?”

“My supervisor.”

Dell blinked at him, silently encouraging him to continue.

He got the message with a nod. “Right. So, when I accidentally transitionedyou,I knew you’d be sent to the DAD to wait out your own case investigation, even though it was a simple name mix-up. The administration loves their paperwork. I didn’t want to put you through that, soI went to my supervisor and requested it be undone. Unfortunately, there is no automatic reversal. Instead,she gave me three days, here, with you, to correct a wrong turn you took at some point, and that will undo it.”

Dell simply stared at him, trying to digest the most bizarre thing she’d ever heard. She could feel her mind reaching the physical barrier at the edge of understanding. The limit of her own intelligence and capacity for thought. It was the feeling she got when trying to understand something real but beyond comprehension, like the physics of outer space or Adam Driver’s sex appeal.

“I know, it’s a lot,” Cole said. “I didn’t really believe any of it was real when it was all happening to me either. But it is, I promise you.” He nervously watched her. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

“So, the person waiting in the department where they investigate accidental, untimely deaths—you—accidentally, untimely ended someone’s life, and that someone isme?”

“Yes,” he said with a deep blush.

“And now you are here to help me identify awrong turn”—she made air quotes around the words—“that will bring me back to life?”

“Correct.”

“Sounds like thewrong turnwas when some random guy from the afterlife mistook me for some old lady and deleted me from earthly existence, but that seems less like my doing and one hundred percent your fault.”

He flinched at the end of her sentence. “You’re right. It is my fault. And I’m sorry. That’s why I’m here to fix it.”

She considered him with a narrowed gaze. He did seem genuinely sorry. And how else was she supposed to get out of this mess? Trusting him seemed like the only option. “Okay. But I haven’t taken any wrong turns.”