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“A needle in her veins. And medicine. And a biohazard trash can. And she was spitting mad, then she was sleepy and sweet. And now she’s asleep.”
“Asleep?” I ask. “Or unconscious, like she passed out from illness? There’s a difference, Arch.”
“Asleep.” He moves again, but his steps are softer. Quieter. Clothes rustle, and his breath comes out on a gentle grunt, as though he’s lowering to a bed… a couch… the floor. “She’s asleep.”
“Can we skip the hypotheticals now and go straight to you telling us what the fuck is wrong with her?” Fletch demands. “We all know what you didn’t say, so how about you skip that shit and be straight with us?”
“I don’t wanna betray her trust,” he murmurs with a sheen of desperation in his words. “I know it already seems like I did, but telling you more would be worse. I just…” He sighs. “I need information. I need to know what we’re dealing with here. Because I can’t fix it unless I know what it is, and I can’t know what the hell it is, because I didn’t go to medical school.”
“And you desperately want to fix something you weren’t asked to fixwhy?”
“Because I fucking care!” he roars. “Because she scared the piss out of me when I walked in here, and the possibility of her dying, no matter the likelihood, isn’t acceptable to me. She’s here now, Aubs. She’s in my life. I’m not walking away.”
Across Minka’s desk, Fletcher’s eyes latch on to mine and grow alarmingly wide.
“Uh…” Dropping my gaze to escape his, I press my fingers to my eyes and breathe for a moment.
I try to think. I try to understand. But when I’ve got nothing to go on but needles and medicine and a biohazard bucket, I can’t even come close to guessing.
Drawing a deep breath, I glance up again and study the phone as the stars clear from my eyes. “Um… okay. Did she tell you the name of this hypothetical medical issue? And if not, do you feel like you can locate the bottle she threw into the trash?”
“Yes.” He exhales a painful sigh. “Yes, she told me the name of the issue. I think that was part of herbeing nicephase. Because tomorrow, she’s gonna go on a rampage when she finds out she was vulnerable for a second.”
“Hence, you not telling us the thing,” Fletch inserts. “Trying to minimize the destruction.”
“Right.”
“So…” Again, I bring the discussion back on track. “You know the name of the thing. But you won’t tell us the name of the thing, right?”
“I think…” he hesitates. “I think that would be a violation of her privacy.”
“Okay. So if you can’t tell me the thing, thus making it impossible for me to discuss or research the thing, then you need to do your own research. Or find an actual doctor who knows neither of you, and ask them. Or…” I drop my head back. “Or just stop prying into her hypothetical situation, Arch. If she didn’t ask for help, that implies she doesn’t need it. If she wanted to tell you the details, she would have. So you looking into this, even without telling me and Fletch what the thing is, is still a violation of her privacy. Just let it go. Leave it alone.”
“Not leaving it alone,” he snarls. “Google?”
Stunned, I look across the desk to Fletch. “What?”
“Google,” Arch says again. “Should I Google it?”
“I mean…” I choke out a laugh. “Sure, if you wanna freak yourself out. The internet will tell you she’s dying. Then you’ll call me back and tell me all the things anyway, just so I can assure you she’s probably not dying.”
“Why are you so fucking chill about this?” His voice grows meaner. Deeper. “How are you not worried?”
“Because I’ve known her for only two days, and I already know she’s smart, she’s capable, she’s strong, and whatever she’s got going on, she has it under control. She doesn’t have a transmittable blood disease—if she did, she’d have had to disclose it already. Besides, you and her…” I clear my throat. “She would have had to tell you prior to… ya know?”
“It’s nothing like that,” he rumbles. “She said it’s not that.”
“Then I think you’ve gotta try to relax. She’ll tell you what she wants you to know, when she wants you to know it.” I tap the computer mouse and fire up the screen in front of me. “Let her rest, Archer. In the meantime, you and Fletch have to talk about the warrant you’re trying to get.”
“McArthur said no,” Fletch tosses in. “He’s not shitting on the mayor. Mistleforth said no. I’m gonna try Ruth next.”
“You work on that,” Arch cuts in. “Get Ruth on side. Push the sexual assault route and show her the page we already have.”
“And you?” I ask. Meanwhile, I pull up Google on Minka’s computer. “What are you doing?”
“I’m staying here. I’m staying the night to make sure she’s okay. I’ll be available on the phone all night, Fletch. But unless you get that warrant and we’re going in, I’m staying right here.”
“We won’t get the warrant tonight anyway,” he answers. “Ruth is sitting in on another case for the rest of the afternoon. I’ll get word to her assistant, but I don’t think we’ll get papers until tomorrow at the earliest.”
