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"You're washable," I said. "But on second thought . . ."
I pulled off my jacket and wadded it up for a pillow so her hair wouldn't connect with whatever critters might be living on the mattress.
"Thanks," she said. "How much trouble are we in?"
I crouched beside her. "We haven't been charged with the bombing, but . . . something's fishy. That powder and note weren't mine, obviously. Neither of us was processed. Neither of us has been charged. But we're locked up."
"Medina works for someone," Jaime said, her words coming slow, as if it hurt to speak. "The movement or a Cabal."
"I thought so, too. I called her on it, and now she's convinced I tried to threaten her with a gang called the Cortezes."
"Maybe, but--"
She stopped and cocked her head. A frown. Then she peered around the cell and at the empty hall beyond.
"Ghost?" I said.
"I'm . . . not sure. I thought I heard . . ." She trailed off, shook her head, then paled, as if the movement made her stomach churn. "Oh, God. What did I eat?"
"Just a pastry and a coffee hours ago."
"A latte. Must have been the milk. I feel like--"
"Did someone call a lawyer?" the old woman warbled again.
I turned to see her staring at an empty spot with a look I recognized from all my years hanging around Jaime. She was seeing a ghost. It happened sometimes with the mentally ill.
"Is it my father?" I said to Jaime. "Is that who you think you heard?"
She nodded, eyes still closed.
"Can you look? See if he's here?"
A faint, pained smile. "If it was your dad, I'd hear him loud and clear. Kristof Nast does not allow himself to be ignored. He took off to hunt for you after the explosion." She frowned and opened her eyes. "I didn't hear back from him--"
She blinked, then stared at the same empty spot as the old woman.
"Oh," she said.
"He's there?"
"Yes, but . . . faint. Something's wrong." She pushed up and struggled to listen. Then another "Oh."
"What's he saying?" I asked.
"He's barely coming through. Maybe because I'm sick."
Jaime tried her best to communicate, with no success. When she started getting frustrated, I stopped her and said, "You rest. I may have a second avenue of contact today."
I nodded at the old woman, who'd been following our efforts placidly.
"Mmm, not sure that's such a good idea," Jaime said. "She's crazy enough to see ghosts, but that also means she's not exactly coherent."
"Well, no offense, but you're not doing so hot yourself. Rest and I'll see what I can get."
The biker chick scuttled away as I sat down beside the old woman.
"Are you going to get me out of here?" the old woman said, staring up at the blank space above us.
