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“They could have your number then.”
“True, but Sam has no connection with them.”
“If they have it in a directory, maybe he could hack in and find it.” A pleased expression suffuses Cress’ face, as if she’s found the secrets of the universe.
A short barking laugh erupts that I can’t control. “Sam, a hacker? You have to be kidding. He can barely send email.” I pause. “Jarvis did think he has someone from the dark web working with him, so I suppose it’s possible.”
“What are you going to do now? Call JL?”
“Done that. And we’ve been texting, but with his mother in the hospital, he’s not able to say when he can get back.”
“Max is upstairs. I’ll have him take a look.” She pours me a glass of lemonade and patters out of the room, calling for Max. I take a careful sip, then lean my head back and contemplate the nightmare that never ends.
A dark shadow looms over me. “Hand me your mobile,” Max says, exhaustion in his voice, even though he looks as dapper as ever.
I hold it up and he snatches it out of my grasp. “I’ll be back,” he calls out as he strides out of the room. Muttering combines with footsteps pounding up the stairs.
“More tea?” Cress asks after Max is no longer in sight
A half-filled glass sits wetly on a coaster. The ice has melted. “I don’t think so.”
She puts the glasses back on the tray and disappears toward the kitchen. Reappearing with the ice bucket and a different pitcher filled with a reddish liquid, she makes the ice tinkle invitingly. “Time for something stronger.” Her cheerful demeanor strikes a false note in the circumstances.
We sip Negronis and wait for Max. The cats bathe me in pity, one on my lap, the other stretched across my shoulders. Occasionally, they readjust, swap places, or stroke my cheek with a velvety paw.
A hollow place spreads from the pit of my stomach up through my chest and into my throat, where a lump chokes me. I touch my eyes, expecting them to feel wet. Instead, they are dry and burning. Furious blinks make no difference. I am desiccated, withered, wizened, sere— Georgia O’Keeffe’sCow Skull with Calico Roses.
Max has my phone so if JL has tried to reach me, there’s no way for me to know. I’m bereft.
When the front door bell rings, Cress seems unsurprised. “Be right back,” she says, her voice sounding like a loudspeaker against the reverberations from the carillon sound. She trots off, both cats trailing after her. Max shouts something from upstairs but I can’t decode his words. “Got it,” Cress shouts back.
The front door opens. I hear a soft murmur from the hallway, then a distinct snick as she reactivates the lock. Cress’ shoes click-clack as she moves from the tiled foyer and morphs to a shhh-shhh once she hits the hardwood. Back in the living room, she curls up in the big armchair and lays her head back. “Dinner. I put it in the warming drawer. Are you hungry?”
I shake my head no. The idea of eating makes me nauseous.
“Whenever Max finishes, we can eat. It’s pizza from Pequod’s. You might feel more like it if he can figure out stuff about Sam.”
Can’t imagine ever wanting to eat again. In fact, I’m not sure I can go on at all. When I tell that to Cress, the look on her face is a mixture of horror and pity.
“Micki. Stop this. You are not the suicidal type. You face adversity head on. In fact, you are the most annoyingly positive person I have ever known. And didn’t you tell me the perfect job seems to have fallen into your lap?”
“Yeah,” I admit. “But right now, that doesn’t seem at all important.”
“If you’re serious, Max and I are carting you off to see someone pronto.”
For the depths of my gut, I summon a weak smile. “This feeling of despair is just so overwhelming. I don’t know how to cope.”
Cress moves over to the couch and sits next to me. After a hug, she just holds my hand until Max finally clatters down the stairs.
His big frame darkens the doorway. “That was a merry chase.” His sarcasm isn’t even thinly veiled.
The expectant look on Cress’ face is probably mirrored on my own. My fingers are crossed. “Burners,” Max says, his voice flat. “Multiple burners. And the text messages are sent from public terminals from libraries all over Cook County.”
A wail I can’t repress splits the air. Cats scrabble off the couch in alarm.
“I do have a bit of good news,” Max says as the siren-like quality of my voice winds down.
Cress pats my back, then hands me a glass of water I hadn’t noticed before. I sip and splutter as Max moves over to the armchair, pulling Cress with him and settling her on his lap. Another pang of loneliness and desire pierces my chest.
