Garnet tried to lift his head and Mack put a hand on his shoulder. “Easy now. You had a fall and I' d like you to lie still a minute while we make sure you' re all right.
Okay?”
“Yesssh.” It was the first word he' d spoken since he came into the store. Jolie hoped it was a good sign.
“Jolie, sweet, you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. I' m good.”
“Did Garnet hit his head?”
“I think…” She couldn' t remember. She knew what had happened but she couldn' t replay the details in her mind. “I' m not sure.”
Garnet' s eyelids drooped. Mack patted his shoulder. “You still with me, buddy?”
“Suure.”
“I want you to focus on me, okay? Try to stay awake.” The sound of a siren approaching had Jolie hugging herself. Help was here and Garnet was still alive. Things might come out okay. Her teeth chattered. Mack glanced her way. “Hang in there, Jolie.”
The EMTs filled her retail area. Staccato-like questions bounced between them.
Commands were issued. All the necessary paraphernalia to save a life was unpacked, unwrapped, attached to Garnet' s body. After an exchange of information, Mack left Garnet to them and coaxed Jolie to join him in the back room.
“I don' t know what' s wrong with me,” she whispered. “Nothing happened to me and I can' t stop shaking.”
“You had a shock. It' s a normal reaction. Your body releases a chemical soup in response to an emergency. You' re experiencing some of the side effects.”
Just knowing why helped her regain some control. He pointed her to a chair and took out a notebook. She was supposed to tell him everything she remembered, which wasn' t much, the details had slipped away like the wisps of a dream upon waking.
“That' s also a normal reaction to extreme stress,” Mac said. “Just breathe.” He grabbed her water bottle from the work bench and pressed it into her hands.
“It gets my heart racing too.” The chitchat and the water helped. She told him the details she remembered. He wrote them down.
When they heard the EMTs loading Garnet on a stretcher, Mack went out to help.
Now that the immediate crisis was under control, there was room for a second to take root. Why hadn' t he ever mentioned he was a cop? He had that account at Quarterz-was it some kind of sex-sting operation? Maybe something illegal going on at the site? And if he was a cop investigating, the personal information shield wouldn' t apply to him. He would know about her.
She was trying to straighten up the mess in her shop when the ambulance roared off in a blur of light and sound. In the time between Mack' s leaving and his return she' d worked her way from simmer to rolling boil. He' d been playing her, using the fact that she was lonely and trusted him as her father' s friend.
She' d worked it out pretty fast as her mind cleared. She knew who he was and why he' d used her. It was a brilliant plan when she considered it. He was Waster. He' d tagged her avatar so that he had a line into whatever happened wherever she went. Her inexperience would allay any suspicions about her. When he found whatever he was looking for, he' d zap in, zap the bad guys. Wrap it all up neat and nice. Not that there was anything wrong with catching bad guys. But couldn' t he have told her, at least given her enough of a hint that she wouldn' t have let feelings get all tangled up in what happened between them? When they were alone, did he have to be so good at reeling her in?
Mack knelt beside her when he came in. He started picking up the assorted packaging the EMT' s had left scattered across the carpet.
“I' ve got this, you can go back to your crime fighting.” She' d meant to sound casual, calm. It was hard to turn that much venom to honey. Especially when the venom was fresh, churning like acid in her stomach.
He sat back on his heels. You didn' t need the touchy-feely perception of a TV
psychologist to spot the coming blowup. Mack, more perceptive than your average guy, wouldn' t miss the signs.
“Something happen I need to know about?”
“What' s that feel like, Mack? How do you like not knowing what' s going on? Being as how it' s your business to know what' s best for me, to decide how to look after me.
Oh, wait. Since you' re not really an artist, but a cop, maybe you' re not really my dad' s old friend either. Is anything you told me true? How could you lie to me if you were my friend?”
His shoulder' s sagged a little. He even looked guilty, a little.
“Jolie, do you really want to do this now? You' ve had a rough day.”
“Oh, right. Now you' re all concerned about my state of mind. Did you think about that before you set me up?”
“It' s not how you' re thinking it is.”
“It' s not? I thought there was something strange about that virus your computer had, an awful stealthy install for something that did so little damage. You planted it, didn' t you? Tell me you didn' t use it to lure me to the Quarterz.” He picked up a plastic probe cover, tossed it in the trashcan beside her, without looking at her, without saying anything.
A tear slipped down her cheek. She brushed it away with the back of her hand, gritted her teeth. He' d get that one, but she wasn' t wasting any more on him. “I want you to go.”
“Okay. I' m going to call Sienna, because I don' t want you alone. We can talk about this more later.”
“There' s no later, Mack. I' m done. I' m Wasted-out. Don' t come back.” She watched his shadow go from a squatting silhouette to standing. Listened to the clink and rattle of the tools jostling on his duty belt as he moved away, shutting the door so softly when he left that the bells didn' t stir.
Chapter Seven
Jolie took a laptop home so she could leave the store closed for a few days. It was the first time she' d had a computer in the house. Her dad might have worked long hours, but he didn' t believe in taking work home. She needed to work and home was the only place where she felt sure Mack wouldn' t intrude with his apologies and excuses.
She had to hand it to Mack, he' d helped her break out of the mental loop that had been a nonstop replay of memories of her father. Now the loop was more like,
The only way to escape the tortuous circling of her mind was through work. Her emails about the contracts her father had due had yielded understanding responses and an apparent willingness to see what she could do. If it was equal in quality to what her father was turning in, they' d let her fulfill his contracts. She had six weeks to knock out ten weeks worth of work.
She lived in a t-shirt and ate cold canned spaghetti, or canned ravioli, when hunger drove her from the computer. She didn' t shower or brush her teeth or notice the rise and set of the sun. She worked until raster- burned eyes drove her to nap, and worked more when she woke up. She texted Sienna once a day that she was still alive. She was pretty sure she didn' t miss any days.
Eventually Sienna showed up on Jolie' s doorstep with pizza, beer and ice cream.
She bullied Jolie into taking time out to bathe, wash hair, brush teeth-all those annoying little rituals that make a person socially acceptable and better smelling. Sienna filled Jolie in on useful details-it was Friday. Two weeks had passed since the incident.
Jolie already knew Garnet had had a seizure and with medication and an easing of his workload would be
