{"id":5506,"date":"2026-01-04T01:32:13","date_gmt":"2026-01-04T01:32:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/as-good-as-dead-jackson-holly\/"},"modified":"2026-01-04T01:32:13","modified_gmt":"2026-01-04T01:32:13","slug":"as-good-as-dead-jackson-holly","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/as-good-as-dead-jackson-holly\/","title":{"rendered":"As Good As Dead – Jackson, Holly"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Book Preview<\/h3>\n
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Dead-eyed, that\u2019s what they said, wasn\u2019t it? Lifeless, glassy, empty. Dead eyes were a constant companion now, following her around, never more than a blink away. They hid at the back of her mind and escorted her into her dreams. His<\/span> dead eyes, the very moment they crossed over from living to not. She saw them in the quickest of glances and the deepest of shadows, and sometimes in the mirror too, wearing her own face.<\/div>\n
And Pip saw them right now, staring straight through her. Dead eyes encased in the head of a dead pigeon sprawled on the front drive. Glassy and lifeless, except for the movement of her own reflection within them, bending to her knees and reaching out. Not to touch it, but to get just close enough.<\/div>\n
\u2018Ready to go, pickle?\u2019 Pip\u2019s dad said behind her. She flinched as he shut the front door with a sharp clack, the sound of a gun hiding in its reverberations. Pip\u2019s other companion.<\/div>\n
\u2018Y-yes,\u2019 she said, straightening up and straightening out her voice. Breathe, just breathe through it<\/span>. \u2018Look.\u2019 She pointed needlessly. \u2018Dead pigeon.\u2019<\/div>\n
He bent down for a look, his black skin creasing around his narrowed eyes, and his pristine three-piece suit creasing around his knees. And then the shift into a face she knew too well; he was about to say something witty and ridiculous like \u2013<\/div>\n
\u2018Pigeon pie for dinner?\u2019 he said.<\/div>\n
Yep, right on cue. Almost every other sentence was a joke from him now, like he was working that much harder to make her smile these days. Pip relented and gave him one.<\/div>\n
\u2018Only if it comes with a side of mashed rat-ato,\u2019 she quipped, finally letting go of the pigeon\u2019s empty gaze, hoisting her bronze rucksack on to one shoulder.<\/div>\n
\u2018Ha!\u2019 He clapped her on the back, beaming. \u2018My morbid daughter.\u2019 Another face shift as he realized what he\u2019d said, and all the other meanings that swirled inside those three simple words. Pip couldn\u2019t escape death, even on this bright late August morning in an unguarded moment with her dad. It seemed to be all she lived for now.<\/div>\n
Her dad shook off the awkwardness, only ever a fleeting thing with him, and gestured to the car with his head. \u2018Come on, you can\u2019t be late for this meeting.\u2019<\/div>\n
\u2018Yep,\u2019 Pip said, opening the door and taking her seat, unsure what else to say, her mind left behind as they drove away, back there with the pigeon.<\/div>\n
It caught up with her as they pulled into the car park for Little Kilton train station. It was busy, the sun glinting off the regimented lines of commuter cars.<\/div>\n
Her dad sighed. \u2018Ah, that fuckboy in the Porsche has taken my spot again.\u2019 Fuckboy: another term Pip immediately regretted teaching him.<\/div>\n
The only free spaces were down the far end, near the chain-link fence where the cameras didn\u2019t reach. Howie Bowers\u2019 old stomping ground. Money in one pocket, small paper bags in the other. And before Pip could help herself, the unclicking of her seat belt became the tapping of Stanley Forbes\u2019 shoes on the concrete behind her. It was night now, Howie not in prison but right there under the orange glow, downward shadows for eyes. Stanley reaches him, trading a handful of money for his life, for his secret. And as he turns to face Pip, dead-eyed, six holes split open inside him, spilling gore down his shirt and on to the concrete, and somehow it\u2019s on her hands. It\u2019s all over her hands and –<\/div>\n
\u2018Coming, pickle?\u2019 Her dad was holding the door open for her.<\/div>\n
\u2018Coming,\u2019 she replied, wiping her hands against her smartest trousers.<\/div>\n
The train into London Marylebone was just as busy, standing shoulder to shoulder with other passengers, awkward closed-mouth smiles substituting sorrys<\/span> as they bumped into one another. There were too many hands on the metal pole, so Pip was holding on to her dad\u2019s bent arm instead, to keep her steady. If only it had worked.<\/div>\n
She saw Charlie Green twice on the train. The first time in the back of a man\u2019s head, before he shifted to better read his Metro<\/span>. The second time, he was a man waiting on the platform, cradling a gun. But as he boarded their carriage, his face rearranged, lost all its resemblance to Charlie, and the gun was just an umbrella.<\/div>\n
It had been four months and the police still hadn\u2019t found him. His wife, Flora, had turned herself in at a police station in Hastings eight weeks ago; they\u2019d somehow got separated on the run. She didn\u2019t know where her husband was, but the rumours circulating online were that he\u2019d managed to make it to France. Pip looked out for him anyway, not because she wanted him caught, but because she needed him found. And that difference was everything, why things could never go back to normal again.<\/div>\n
Her dad caught her eye. \u2018You nervous about the meeting?\u2019 he asked over the screeching of the train\u2019s wheels as it slowed into Marylebone. \u2018It will be fine. Just listen to Roger, OK? He\u2019s an excellent lawyer, knows what he\u2019s talking about.\u2019<\/div>\n
Roger Turner was a solicitor at her dad\u2019s firm who was the best<\/span> at defamation cases, apparently. They found him a few minutes later, waiting outside the old red-bricked conference centre, where the meeting room was booked.<\/div>\n
\u2018Hello again, Pip,\u2019 Roger said, holding out his hand to her. Pip quickly checked her hand for blood before shaking his. \u2018Nice weekend, Victor?\u2019<\/div>\n
\u2018It was, thank you, Roger. And I have leftovers for lunch today, so it\u2019s going to be an excellent Monday too.\u2019<\/div>\n
\u2018I suppose we better head in then, if you\u2019re ready?\u2019 Roger asked Pip, checking his watch, other hand gripped around a shining briefcase.<\/div>\n
Pip nodded. Her hands felt wet again, but it was sweat. It was only sweat.<\/div>\n
\u2018You\u2019ll be fine, darling,\u2019 her dad told her, straightening out her collar.<\/div>\n
\u2018Yes, I\u2019ve done thousands of mediations,\u2019 Roger grinned, swiping back his grey hair. \u2018No need to worry.\u2019<\/div>\n
\u2018Call me when it\u2019s done.\u2019 Pip\u2019s dad leaned down to bury a kiss in the top of her head. \u2018I\u2019ll see you at home tonight. Roger, I\u2019ll see you in the office later.\u2019<\/div>\n
\u2018Yes, see you, Victor. After you, Pip.\u2019<\/div>\n
They were in meeting room 4E, on the top floor. Pip asked to take the stairs because if her heart was hammering for that reason, it wasn\u2019t hammering for any other reason. That\u2019s how she rationalized it with herself, why she now went running any time she felt her chest tighten. Run until there was a different kind of hurt.<\/div>\n
They reached the top, old Roger puffing several steps behind her. A smartly dressed man stood in the corridor outside 4E, smiling when he saw them.<\/div>\n
\u2018Ah, you must be Pippa Fitz-Amobi,\u2019 he said. Another outstretched hand, another quick blood check. \u2018And you, her counsel, Roger Turner. I\u2019m Hassan Bashir and for today I am your independent mediator.\u2019<\/div>\n
He smiled, pushing his glasses up his thin nose. He looked kind, and so eager he was almost bouncing. Pip hated to ruin his day, which she undoubtedly would.<\/div>\n
\u2018Nice to meet you,\u2019 she said, clearing her throat.<\/div>\n
\u2018And you.\u2019 He clapped his hands together, surprising Pip.<\/div>\n
\u2018So, the other party are in the meeting room, all ready to go. Unless you have any questions beforehand,\u2019 he glanced at Roger, \u2018I think we should probably get started.\u2019<\/div>\n
\u2018Yes. All good.\u2019 Roger side-stepped in front of Pip to take charge as Hassan ducked back to hold open the door to 4E. It was silent inside. Roger walked through, nodding thanks to Hassan. And then it was Pip\u2019s turn. She took a breath, arching her shoulders, and then let it out through gritted teeth.<\/div>\n
Ready.<\/div>\n
She stepped into the room and his face was the first thing she saw. Sitting on the opposite side of the long table, his angular cheekbones in a downward point to his mouth, his messy swept-back blonde hair. He glanced up and met her eyes, a hint of something dark and gloating in his.<\/div>\n
Max Hastings.<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
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Book Preview Dead-eyed, that\u2019s what they said, wasn\u2019t it? Lifeless, glassy, empty. Dead eyes were a constant companion now, following her around, never more than a blink away. They hid at the back of her mind and escorted her into her dreams. His dead eyes, the very moment they crossed over from living to not. … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":5505,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[370],"class_list":["post-5506","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-holly-jackson"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5506","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=5506"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/5506\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5505"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=5506"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=5506"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=5506"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}