J Duncan: Deadworld

He chuckled. “I worked. A lot.”

Jackie nodded and said nothing. Work would be good. Work would get her out of this depression pit and give her something worth doing. More importantly, work would occupy her brain enough to keep every damn thing from reminding her that Laurel was dead and no longer a part of her everyday life. And where the hell was she anyway? Two weeks and not a peep. She thought she had felt her presence several times, but no appearances. Even a “Hello, how are you?” would have been nice.

“I also spent time away from my house,” he added. “Movies, golf, a Cubs game, anything that would provide a distraction. You sit around drinking all day, it just festers and gets worse.”

She winced. It certainly did not look like things were getting better. “It um… looks worse than it is, sir. I haven’t been downing gallons of booze a day. I’ve just been a slob.”

“Not here to judge, Jackie. We all have our ways of dealing with pain. I don’t want to see you making things worse though. If it’s too much of a struggle-”

“No!” Her voice was too loud, desperate. “I mean, I’m getting there. I’ll get out more, do… something. You’re right. Distractions would be good.”

John nodded, his eyes sweeping around the room again. “You want to start coming in again, Jackie? Office stuff, mind you, no investigating until your thirty days are up, but if you want to be in the office around the guys and distract yourself with some paperwork, I think that would be doable.”

“Seriously?” She wanted to hug him. “That would be great. I need to get out of here, and there’s plenty for me to do that doesn’t involve chasing bad guys.”

“Would give you a chance to get used to your new partner also, before you’re back out in the field.”

“Yeah. That would be a good idea,” she said. New partner. The two words sounded completely alien. “So who is it? Anyone I know?”

Belgerman handed her the file. “His name is Ryan Mc-Manus, out of the San Francisco office. Mostly gang-enforcement stuff, but wants to do homicides. Steady, levelheaded guy. I think he’ll suit you.”

Jackie stared at the name printed on the folder tab. It should have said Laurel Carpenter. “Can I come in tomorrow then?”

“This decision isn’t entirely mine, Jackie. You need to get Tillie’s agreement as well.”

Aunt Matilda, the office shrink-the wise old lady who had the uncanny knack for knowing exactly what you didn’t want to talk about, and to whom Jackie owed visits. Tillie had extorted future visits from her after Laurel had died in order for Jackie to stay on the case. Nobody in the world terrified her more.

“Great. So much for that idea.” Jackie made no effort to hide her annoyance.

John laughed. “I think she’ll be amenable to you coming back, as long as she knows you won’t be out in the field. She’s dealt with partner loss before. She knows how hard it is, Jackie. Besides, aren’t you seeing her today anyway?”

“Shit!” She had completely forgotten. “What time is it?”

Belgerman looked at his watch. “Nine forty.”

“Fuck! Fifty minutes.” Jackie hurried toward her bedroom. “You could have said something sooner! I look like shit.”

“You look fine,” he said. “You want a ride in?”

“No, I’m good. I’m going to shower right quick. I’ll see you there, sir.”

He chuckled. “I’ll see myself out then. Just remember to remain calm, Jackie. Tillie only needs to see you’re not losing it.”

“Okay, thanks.” So, lie through my teeth, Jackie thought. For two weeks that was all she had been doing. But this was a chance to get out of the hellhole of her apartment. She needed to work, needed the routine of her life to return, because outside of work, she had nothing-she was nothing. She only had to convince the omniscient, brain-scanning Dr. Erikson this wasn’t the case.