Jackie finally turned to look at John after ten minutes of silence in the car. She had feigned sleep in the hopes of quelling any conversation he might have, but now that he was actually saying nothing, the silence was beginning to bother her. He glanced at her once, expressionless, for the most part, and then faced back toward the road. Jackie figured it best not to ask what was on his mind. If it was important, he would tell her.
Five minutes after they left, she had felt a pang of guilt over sniping at Nick. He likely had saved her from more serious injury, even if she could have crawled out of there. She just remembered Laurel, her body gray and transparent in the smoke, fighting the man in the derby hat. Ghosts, both of them. Jackie sighed. She could not recall ever feeling more out of control of a case in her life.
“I’ll take a long vacation after we nail this guy, sir. I swear, a month at least. I think it will be over in a few days.”
John gave her a smile that was some mixture of sadness and understanding. “You still have to speak with Tillie, Jack. I bend a lot of rules, but not that one.”
“We’re talking only a few days,” Jackie said, trying not to sound desperate. “I’m good for that at least.”
“You’re good for nothing at the moment, Jack,” he replied, annoyance creeping in at last. “You’re lucky I didn’t force you to stay the night in the hospital for observation. You can go talk to her and then get a few hours sleep, or you can sign a vacation slip now, and I’ll see you back in the office next month. Clear enough?”
Jackie humphed and then winced at the pain it caused in her side. “With all due respect, sir, you suck.”
“Privilege of being the boss,” he said as they pulled into the underground garage. “Now go see Auntie Tillie, and I’ll see how you’re doing after. I’m going to try to get Mr. Anderson down here to brief us more thoroughly on just what it is we’re dealing with. No more special investigators for the supernatural. Everyone is going to deal with it.”
Jackie shoved her door open as they came to a stop. “I guess I shouldn’t take that personally, should I?”
“Jack, you know what I meant. You’re a damn good agent who is hurting bad. Go speak to Tillie. If she gives you the go-ahead, I won’t second-guess her.”
She got out and slammed the door. There were no words he could soothe her with when it came to speaking to their local shrink. Doing her damnedest to look normal, Jackie favored her leg, limping over to the elevator, and left Belgerman behind.
Seven floors up, Jackie stepped out onto the human-resources floor, an area she saw maybe once or twice a year. An innocuous-sounding part of the floor was entered through a door labeled PERSONNEL SERVICES. Matilda’s office was at the end of the hall beyond the small reception area. The carpets were plush and silent, the colors soft and muted. Everything about the damn place screamed calmness. Jackie crossed her arms over her chest, about to tell the fluffy little receptionist she was there to see Aunt Tillie, when Tillie stepped out in the hall and motioned her down the hall.
Jackie eyed the young woman behind the desk. “You beeped her, didn’t you?”
She gave Jackie a faint smile. “I was really sorry to hear about Ms. Carpenter. I liked her.”
The snarky retort Jackie had been building up died in her mouth. “Yeah, me, too.” She limped off down the hall to meet her doom.
Aunt Tillie was sitting down in her soft, plump, cushioned leather chair across from an identical one that Jackie found herself sinking into. She would have stood, just to annoy Tillie, but the knee was killing her, and she had to admit that staying awake was becoming a struggle. The chair could have almost been termed a love seat, perfect for curling up in, and much as she tried to dump the thoughts, sleep kept invading her system in all directions. A little nap, couple hours, I’ll be good for the afternoon.
“Hello, Jackie,” Tillie said, her voice filled with concern. From a tray beside her, she filled a cup with some tea and set it down on the small coffee table between them. Behind her on the other side of the chair was her big, old mahogany desk that everyone secretly wished to kill her for. Nobody in the building-or most of the city, for that matter-had such a lovely, ornate, and perfectly polished desk. The skyline outside the floor-to-ceiling window was a shroud of gray, swirling mist.
“Dr. Erikson.”
“Drink,” she said. “It will help you relax, and lord knows you look like you could use it.”
“I’m fine, really,” Jackie said. She didn’t even believe herself. Sitting up straighter, she made an effort to smile, but sitting across from the big, motherly woman-in her green cashmere sweater, a pleated khaki skirt, her little gold chain with the charms, and the little pearl earrings-had Jackie’s stomach in knots. “Okay, I’m not fine, but I’ll live.” God, the woman made her want to crawl out of her skin!
“Dear, relax. This is informal. No notes, nothing on record, just a conversation between two grown women.”
Jackie contemplated picking up the tea, but feared her shaky hands would make the cup rattle in the saucer. Any more signs of nerves, and, no doubt, Tillie would have her shipped off to the psych ward. “I was ordered here, Dr. Erikson.”
“Tillie, please.” She sipped on her tea for a moment. “All right, so it isn’t a social call, but still. You can let that guard down for two seconds, Jackie. I’m not going to recommend you take time off. Yet.”
Just like that? No prodding? No “tell me what’s really going on”? She had gotten enough of that from her during her last psychological evaluation. She had dug around in Jackie’s past enough to know a good deal about what was really going on, and to this point, Jackie had successfully avoided any direct conversations with her about it. “Seriously? You’ll let me finish this case, just like that? No questions? No ‘what about Laurel’? Nothing?”
“Jackie,” she said, setting down her tea and leaning forward. Her hands were folded together, arms resting on her knees. “Look at me, please.”
Jackie had turned away without thinking when Tillie had leaned forward. There was a soft, pitying look about her face that made her stomach squirm, and not so much because she didn’t want that sympathetic, trusting gaze falling upon her, but because she realized it made her want to talk. Tillie was worse than the vampires.
“What?” Jackie asked.
“I know you’re hurting physically, emotionally, spiritually. You look beat in more ways than one. If you agree to come back and see me after this is done… on a weekly basis… I won’t tell John you should have a month off at a minimum.”
What? Extortion? The kindly, plump mother of the FBI’s Chicago office was resorting to extortion? “Why would I agree to that? You know I have no desire to be here.”
She leaned back and picked up her tea, sipping at it for a moment. “Because if you don’t, dear, I suspect your career in the FBI is over.”
There was no threat implied. They both knew what she referred to, and Jackie chewed on her lip, pondering the choice, and suddenly found herself appalled that she could even consider trading justice for Laurel over her own discomfort, pain, and embarrassment. “Fine. It’s a deal. I can’t believe you’re resorting to such low tactics. You’re a sneaky bitch when you want to be, Tillie.”
She laughed. “You have no idea.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’ve been planning for this moment for years?”
“Oh, but I have,” she said, the smile turning sly. “I knew it would come. One day something would come along that would mean more to you than protecting that hurt, twelve-year-old girl locked away in your heart.”
Jackie swallowed hard. Damn her. Bitch was doing it on purpose. Didn’t matter if she was right. “We done here then?”
Tillie shook her head. “No. I want to know what’s happened on this case from your point of view. John filled me in, but I think I find it’s lacking some things. I’d like to hear your side.”
“Why?”
“Humor me, Jackie. I need it regardless to note your current state of mind so I can file the proper paperwork.”
“Are you this big a pain outside the office?”
She just smiled. “Pick up your tea, if you can without spilling, and tell me what’s happened.”
Jackie took a deep breath. Therapists were the devil, no two ways about it. “I’m not thirsty.”