Just like Marie and Ryan Wagner, the other two ghosts. Aw, a married couple, how sweet. Ryan had been a salesman, Marie a teacherand Chess could just bet she knew who one of Maries students had been.
Too bad she couldnt confirm it. If the name of Marks school had been in his fileand Chess imagined it had been, because everything like that would beit either hadnt been in the part she could access or she just hadnt written it down, which was more likely.
But Jillian could access the files. So could Elder Griffin, couldnt he? And since Doyle had actually talked to him and requested his training week be in Debunkingand why had no one told her she could do that? Or maybe Doyle had just created his own opportunity, which seemed more likelyand since Elder Griffin had actually seemed pretty decent to her when shed met him, maybe she could ask him about it. Let him know she was taking the assignment seriously, that she was using her head.
Files werent supposed to leave the library, at least thats what she thought she remembered being told. But taking them to Elder Griffins office wasntNo, they werent supposed to leave, and she didnt want to take a chance. So instead she quickly scribbled down the names and their places of employment, shoved the files back into their approximate places in the cabinets, and headed for the wide staircase and Elder Griffins office.
The hall was empty. Well, sureit was getting close to six, and the offices technically closed at five-thirty. Most employees stayed later than that, but no regular people sat on the benches waiting for appointments. A Goody Chess wasnt familiar with passed her on the steps, but that was it.
Which was why she was able to hear the voices inside Elder Griffins office so clearly when she raised her hand to knock.
Actually, that was a lie. She heard murmurs beyond the door, and one of those murmurs sounded exactly like Elder Griffin saying her name. Her hand froze just before hitting the woodgood thing, too, because it turned out the door hadnt latched, and thats why she could hear.
Shit. What should she do?
Listening wasnt the right thing. She knew that.
But doing the right thing wasnt exactly her strong suit. Not really possible for her, even; she was a walking wrong thing, wasnt she?
So she listened. She inched her head forward, careful to keep from view and very careful to keep from accidentally touching the door and opening it, and heard Jillian say, Shes very standoffish, actually. Shes already made an enemy of Trent.
Oh?
Trents not the easiest guy to get along with, but its like shes gone out of her way to be disrespectful to him.
Pause. A pause, while Chesss stomach twisted and her eyes started to burn. Shed gone out of her way to be disrespectful to Trent? When shed taken every bit of shit hed flung at her until just a few hours ago and finally made one single comment in response?
What the fuck, Jillian? Shed thought well, she hadnt thought she and Jillian were becoming friends, because she didnt want friends, and she especially didnt want friends who seemed to be only interested in simpering and obsessing over men. But shed thought there was some kind of respect there, that Jillian had at least liked her okay, had valued what shed contributed so far.
Apparently not. Good to know. She felt sick.
Elder Griffin spoke; Chess put Jillians betrayal asidefor the momentto listen. But youve had no problems, aside from her standoffishness?
I dont know. I kind of think she resents me, resents having to clear her actions with me. She keeps wanting to go off on her own.
She does not follow directions?
She follows them, shes just really caught up in her own ideas. I dont think she sees this as a team effort.
Does not work well with others, Elder Griffin said.
I dont think so, no. Shes just kind of cold. I tried to engage her, let her know she could talk to me, but she didnt.
And you feel the connection she discovered between your victims was merely luck.
Well Jillian hesitated. Not entirely. She wanted to look into the New Hope Mission from the beginning, and of course I gave her permission to investigate Mark Pollert. I thought it would placate her, get her to open up a little. So she had some okay instincts there, except I think maybe her fixation on Pollert came from feeling the energy of a sex spell hed made. She seemed really, well, fixated on that. But
Elder Griffin must have made a sound, or a face, or something. Or maybe the roaring in Chesss ears simply overwhelmed anything she would have heard, the noise like waves of rage and pain washing over her and drowning out everything else.
That was it, then. All the hope shed had, all the hope shed been building, collapsed into a sodden pile of wasted dreams at her feet. She wasnt going to create a life for herself, wasnt going to make something of herself. She couldnt escape, would never escape. Everyone knew who she really was, what she really was, that she was sick and shriveled and twisted inside, and they could all see it. Even when she thought she was hiding it, they could see it.
And Jillian actually thought shed liked that sex spell. That shed liked feeling what it made her feel, liked having it forced on her.
Just like the rest of them had. She would never escape.
Jillian went on, too, digging Chesss grave deeper with every word. But Trent and Vaughn would have found the connection once they started really processing the evidence. She saved them some time, yes, but it isnt like she cracked the case or anything. Shes not stupid, shes not a terrible investigator, but working with her just isnt, well, enjoyable. Like I said, shes not a team player.
Jillian went on, too, digging Chesss grave deeper with every word. But Trent and Vaughn would have found the connection once they started really processing the evidence. She saved them some time, yes, but it isnt like she cracked the case or anything. Shes not stupid, shes not a terrible investigator, but working with her just isnt, well, enjoyable. Like I said, shes not a team player.
Elder Griffins voice was sharp. You doubt her loyalty to the Church? To the Truth?
Oh, no. No, I cant say that. Well, that was something, at least. Jillian would throw her to the wolves but not to the angry crowds at the stocks on Holy Day, or to the executioner. Wow, that was something to be grateful for. Actually it was, but at the moment Chess felt too ill to have room for much gratitude. She seems very loyal. I just doubt her ability to handle working with other people, or to work effectively under a regular chain of command. Theres no room for disobedience in the Squad, sir, as Im sure you know.
I do. Paper shuffled. Well, thank you, Jillian. I appreciate your coming to answer my questions.
No problem, sir. Im happy to help. I was wondering if, while Im here, we could
But Chess wasnt listening anymore. She was walking away as silently as she could, heading for the bathroom at the end of the hall. No, she shouldnt do it, and it was yet another sign of how fucking weak she was, how little she deserved the chance shed just lost, but her eyes stung and her chest hurt and their voices echoed in her head, all of those voices, and now Jillians and Elder Griffins, too, beating into her mind, and if she didnt manage to dull them somehow she was going to scream. It was too much, and that embarrassed her and made shame pound through her body just as hard and fast as her blood in her veins.
Into the bathroom, into the stall, her hand already in her bag, finding the cool steel of her flask and yanking it out at the same time as she slid the door bolt home. Her fingers shook as she unscrewed the cap; her arm did not shake as she raised it to her lips and drank, one long swallow, then another, the burning heat of the vodka chasing away the icy lump that had formed in her gut. It was wrong but it didnt matter, it was wrong but who cared, because her career at the Church was over, anyway.
Shed never worked before, not a real job, but she wasnt stupid. Shed already realized how big a part politics could play in success at the Church; hell, shed been trying so hard to beto be friendly, to not let on that she couldnt stand to have anyone touch her, that they freaked her out when they wanted to talk to her or ask questions about her life, that sometimes when she was in a group of her classmates she had to clench her fists to keep from panicking because there were so many of them and she felt so exposed.
And shed thought she was doing a good job. Apparently not.
Warmth spread through her body, warmth and that familiar dull muscle ache she sometimes got from alcohol. Not that it mattered. It was better than the pain of her feelings; it was better than nothing, and shed take it. Willingly. Gratefully. She didnt want to, didnt want to want it or need it, but what the fuck ever. She might as well.
For a few seconds, maybe a minute, she just stood there, leaning against the wall with her eyes closed. So much better. Jillians voice, all of the voices, retreated enough for her to breathe, enough to let her focus again.
The cinnamon candies tingled in her mouth, elevating her mood a little further. Was it possible to build up some sort of Pavlovian conditioning with those? And eventually theyd do for her what the shots did?
She shouldnt need either, she reminded herself as she flushed the toilet and headed for the sinks. She shouldnt need something to get her through the day. She shouldnt need any help.
But she was quickly coming to realize that shouldnt might as well be fat chance. A second or two of honestyall she could bearreminded her that she hadnt managed to go a day without the flask for over a month, and that wasnt good. That was, in fact, Bad, capital B and all. The kind of Bad that would get her caught; booze wasnt that easy to hide, and sooner or later the candies would stop working or theyd catch on some other way.
But wasnt it ironic that she couldnt make herself feel too guilty about it, couldnt make herself worry too much about it just then, because her body was warm and the sharp edges in her brain were softened ever so slightly, and Jillians disregard had faded in her mind just enough for her to handle it?