She was finished Garnet" s job and there was nothing left to do now but wait for him to swing by on his way to the airport. Her laptop sat in sleep mode, a red ring blinking around the power button. All she had to do was hit the enter key and log in to the Quarterz. She didn" t want to start something there when she knew she" d be called away from it at any minute.
What she wanted to start was a hunt that would prove to Waster she could look after herself. He had a misguided sense of responsibility to her, possibly because she" d been so clearly out of her element when she arrived. She was sure that had to be the reason he marked her. If he wasn" t interested in using her himself-like Grizz he probably found fumbling “noobs” boring-then there wasn" t any other explanation for what he" d done.
Restlessness drove her to roam the shop in search of something to do. She paused at the door to her father" s office, hovered at the threshold gathering willpower before she flipped on the light switch and went in.
She ran her hand over the leather chair back, walked two fingers along the seam, the way she used to before she would tousle his hair to get his attention. She bit her lip, pulled the chair out and sat down. Warmth enfolded her, as if he" d reached around her with a hug. She put her cheek against the cool leather and just rested in the comfort of getting as close to him as she could.
His computer screen was dark. It had been perpetually on when he was alive. She bent, pushed a button on the front of the tower parked under his desk and then pressed the button on the old legacy CRT monitor. It hummed to life. A password box greeted her. She had no idea.
Her mom" s picture sat on his desk. Jolie didn" t remember a time when it had been more than just her and her dad. Her mom had died before Jolie was old enough to talk.
In all the years since, her father had never so much as gone on a dinner date. She leaned forward and typed her mother" s first name. Not it. She tried her own name, certain she was wasting her time. He" d have a crackless password. But this time there was a response-whirs and clicks. She was in.
She didn" t know that she wanted to go through his personal files. At the same time, she needed to face this. It might as well be now. The accounting computer out front contained only invoices and the total paid on them. Everything else pertaining to the business had to be here.
She opened his documents folder and idly scanned through the subfolders. She paused, let the mouse arrow hover over a folder titled virtual projects.
Inside-a series of folders, project notes, outlines, characters, correspondence.
Apparently, her father had been participating in several projects, one of them involving a contract with the defense department. Another was with a game design company in Italy. She noted the contract dates. His last deliverables were sent just before he died, the next were coming due over the next several weeks. She studied the requirements and her father" s design documents. If she could get an extension on current deliverables-given her nonexistent workload it wouldn" t take much of an extension-she could pull this off and keep the store afloat.
The shop door opened and closed. Garnet was pacing the floor when she came out.
“Hey there, how" d your presentation go?”
Garnet had a befuddled look. Jolie was used to that look. She saw it on customers"
faces when she tried to explain to them what was wrong with their computer. Or when she explained what was wrong with the way they were trying to use one. She couldn" t think of an explanation for his expression now.
She moved Garnet" s laptop from the shelf to the counter, but kept herself back from arm" s reach. There was something really off about him.
She showed him how fast the computer started, opened his start menu to display all the programs there. He didn" t look at his watch once. While she was explaining where she put backup copies of his documents, he was looking out the window. He hadn" t said a word since entering the store.
Too spooky. Maybe the presentation had bombed.
She wrapped up the explanation, bagged his computer in the laptop case and handed him the bill. He looked at the bill and looked back at her, the befuddlement deepened.
She" d told him yesterday how much the bill would be, so she couldn" t think what the problem might be.
“Is some-” She broke off.
Garnet" s eyes rolled back in his head.
Time downshifted into slow motion.
He swayed like a tree in a strong wind, first forward then back, and then over to the side. He connected with a shelf of small items placed by the front counter to encourage last-minute impulse buys. Mouse pads and flash drives scattered, the shelf tipped at a parallel angle to Garnet" s body, both headed for the floor and she stood rooted to the spot, her mouth falling open as they hit and bounced. He flipped to his back. The shelf came apart.
9-1-1. Like a switch thrown, the thought broke through her warped time perception, spurred her to action.
He couldn" t be dead. Please, he couldn" t be dead.
She punched buttons on the phone and turned back to watch him. His right hand and foot twitched rapidly and then he went still.
“Oh god. Oh god. Tell me what to do,” Jolie babbled when the dispatcher picked up. “I think he" s dying.”
“Ma" am, you have to calm down,” the dispatcher said. “Please state your name and address.”
“Okay. Okay. Calm. There" s a man collapsed on the floor of my store and I think he may be dying. “
“Name and address please, ma" am.”
Jolie relayed the information.
“I have an officer with EMT training responding. He is right around the corner from you. ETA on the rescue squad is eight minutes.”
“That" s so long. I don" t think he has eight minutes.”
“Does he respond to you at all?”
Jolie edged closer. “Sir? Can you hear me?” Her voice sounded tinny, high with nerves. To the dispatcher she said, “He" s not moving.” A squad car screeched to a halt in the lot out front, lights flashing. And then Mack burst through the door, in uniform, with a red medical backpack in hand.
Jolie dropped the phone. Mack was a cop?
Mack was on his knees beside Garnet. He opened his shirt collar and checked for a pulse.
“Is he alive?”
Mack nodded.
“Jolie, honey, pick up the phone and tell the dispatcher I" m here.” She did as he" d asked. The dispatcher said since an officer was on the scene Jolie could hang up, and Jolie did.
“What" s his name, Jolie?”
“Garnet something. It" s on the bill.” Her bill was still crumpled under Garnet" s limp hand.
Mack" s deep voice boomed, commanded attention. “Hey, Garnet, you with me, bud?”
Garnet turned his head from side to side and moaned.
He wasn" t dead. Jolie started to shiver. She glanced behind her, spotted her chair and sat.
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. All 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.