ANGIE LET GO of Marie and fell across Julia’s desk, scattering papers, pens, and a half-full mug of coffee.
Julia leapt back, but Angie scrambled after her, succeeding only in falling from the desk into the narrow space between it and the bookcase behind it. She curled into a fetal position and mumbled between gasps, “You gotta. You gotta,” as coffee slid in slow drips from the desk onto her body.
Marie unfroze first, throwing Kleenex onto the puddle. Julia stooped beside Angie and lay a cautious hand on her heaving shoulder.
“We gotta what, Angie? What’s going on?”
Angie’s eyes rolled back in her head.
“Christ. I think she’s having some sort of a seizure. Can you call 911? Or better yet, just run downstairs and grab someone from the sheriff’s office. Wayne’s an EMT.”
“Nooooo. Not that bastard. Not anyone.” The words escaped in a low groan, barely coherent. Angie struggled to sit up but fell back.
Julia slid an arm under her shoulders and gently raised her up again.
“Angie, you’re not fine.”
“I think she’s really, really drunk,” Marie whispered. But Angie heard.
“Not drunk. Not a drop since …” She waved a hand. She could have meant yesterday or five minutes ago. Her head lolled.
Julia bent closer still and inhaled the mingled scent of extreme poverty—dirt, sweat, clothing worn too many days in a row. But not booze.
“I don’t smell it on her.”
“High, then?”
“Could be.”
Angie nestled her head against Julia’s shoulder, curling into her like a small child. Julia stroked her hair. “Pinkham told me she found traces of meth in the other three but nothing indicating they were hard-core users.”
“I still think we should call someone.”
“No shit.”
Angie stiffened in her arms.
“No!”
Marie’s hand jerked away from the phone. “What should we do? She needs help. And she’s scared to death of something.”
“Or someone.”
Angie nodded, her eyes closed again.
“Who, Angie?”
Angie wrapped Julia in a grip so hard she struggled for breath. “Uh-uh. They’ll kill you too.”
Marie and Julia stared at one another.
“Does she even know what she’s talking about?” Marie whispered.
“Damned if I know. But we’ve got to get her out of here. Angie, I want to take you to the emergency room.”
Angie moaned a long and emphatic no.
Julia tugged at her. “Can you stand? Let me help you.”
Marie came around to Angie’s other side, and together they pulled her to her unsteady feet.
“Now what?”
Julia blew a breath. “I think I’ll take her to my house. Make her some coffee, maybe even get some food into her. Help her sober up to the point where she can tell me what’s going on.”
She took a tentative step forward. Angie’s feet dragged on the floor.
“How are you going to get her all the way to your car?”
Julia’s shoulder was already beginning to ache from Angie’s weight.
“Let’s get her into my chair, at least.”
Angie flopped into it like a rag doll.
“You stay with her. I’ll get my car and bring it around.” Calvin had been in a mood that morning, and she’d been so late leaving the house that she’d driven the few blocks to work.
Marie posed the question Julia had been avoiding.
“How do we get her past Deb?”
Julia felt nearly as deflated as Angie. Deb had probably already broadcast to the world that a drunk homeless woman had stumbled down the hall to her office. For all she knew, Deb had alerted the sheriff’s department to be on standby in case there was trouble. She went to the door and peered down the hall. “She’s not at her desk now.”
Marie’s voice squeaked with excitement. “That’s right! I just remembered! She’s got some sort of training today, something to do with a new computer program. She’ll be out of the office all day.”
Julia very nearly crossed herself, a reflexive throwback to faith long abandoned. “Maybe there’s a merciful God after all. The freight elevator is in the hall just outside Deb’s desk. It ends up at a side door by the trash cans. Nobody goes back there, not even to smoke. I’ll text you when I get to the car, and then you take her downstairs. I should be pulling up by the time you get down.”
Marie nodded, eyes bright. Somewhere along the line, Julia realized, they’d crossed the line into true partnership, even if they didn’t have much to show for it yet.
She stopped in the doorway.
“And Marie? Thanks.”