Page 85 of Fish in a Barrel
Billy grinned. “Sean loves it! He won’t say anything, but the minute Cotton set it down, he just lit up like a sunrise. I think he really wants a dog at home, so yeah. We can keep it until that Gabriel guy is ready for his comfort dog.”
It was almost too cute to stand.
But finally everyone was out the door and Ellery could go check on Jackson. Much like he’d supposed, he hadn’t heard much at all from the bedroom since Jackson had retired.
Ellery found him on his stomach on the comforter, his knees curled up underneath him, almost like a toddler. His arms were tucked underneath his chest like he was cold, and his shoes were still on.
Ellery gave a sigh and started pulling off his shoes.
“Going out in a minute,” Jackson mumbled.
“No,” Ellery replied softly. “You’re stripping down to your briefs and getting under the covers and going to bed. It’s almost eight o’clock.”
“Wow. You said that like eight o’clock is a sane time to go to bed.” He let Ellery pull off his shoes before creakily swinging his legs over to the edge of the bed and standing up. Ellery helped him with his pants and hooded sweatshirt—one of his old, frayed ones—but left the T-shirt on. It was another shirt that was nearly transparent with age and washings, and since Jackson had gotten better about dressing like he cared if he lived or died, Ellery assumed it was because he didn’t want to get his good T-shirts dirty.
“It is for good boys who did a lot of work today,” Ellery said softly.
“I can’t sleep,” Jackson mumbled. “There are people here.”
“I sent them home. Enough is enough.”
Jackson groaned. “Man, you’re right. It’s so late. Just let me nap—”
“Jackson, we found the sniper. Sean sent the footage to Christie to see if video forensics can clean it up and identify the guy with the duffel bag over his shoulder. Or girl—it could go either way. Fetzer and Hardison are set to bring Cartman in tomorrow at nine. He’s probably already lawyered up, but you and I will be there in the briefing room, so that may change things—”
“Both of us?” Jackson lay gingerly down on his side, and Ellery held his hand to Jackson’s forehead. A faint fever relapse, but not too high.
“Yes,” he said. “It was pretty easy for Cartman to write you off when he heard about you over the phone—much like it was easy for him to write Sandra off because he thought she couldn’t hurt him. You in the same room with him? That’s a two-pronged attack. He thinks of himself as a shark in negotiations, but let’s see how he deals with real bloodshed.” Ellery realized his distaste of the man was bleeding through his voice, and he tried to rein it in, but Jackson had caught it anyway.
“As long as you’re not carrying a weapon into the briefing room, Counselor, I think he’ll be okay.”
Ellery snorted. “Stay right here. I’ll be back with some water, and we can get you some pain meds.”
“You just want me to pass out,” Jackson slurred, and Ellery narrowly avoided saying, “You’re damned right I do!” by the twitch of a jaw.
“Yeah, Jackson, everything’s a conspiracy” was what he did say. “Now stay put.”
By the time he got back with a glass of water, Jackson’s medication, and some soft bread to pillow the meds, Billy Bob had lodged himself solidly behind Jackson’s thighs and Lucifer was behind his neck.
“I don’t think I can move,” Jackson murmured.
“It’s fine. I brought a straw. Now drink and eat.”
He did so obediently, which was a relief. When he’d swallowed everything, including the bread, he handed Ellery the cup and napkin and snuggled back into the pillows.
“We got anything else we’re doing tomorrow?” he asked.
“Going to visit Clive Brentwood,” Ellery said. “We have an appointment with his secretary, but he wasn’t in today, so he won’t know we’re coming.”
Jackson grunted. “Brentwood. Interesting. What are you thinking?”
“Blackmail,” Ellery said thoughtfully. “Brentwood flip-flopped, Cartman’s terrified, and Boehner was known for playing dirty. What does that smell like to you?”
“Like Boehner blackmailed the wrong person and it burned him,” Jackson said, and Ellery felt validated all over again. “Good thinking, Counselor.” He took a deep breath, and Ellery thought he was going to say something else, but he didn’t, so Ellery thought he was asleep.
Jackson stayed quiet while Ellery put on his pajamas and then got a glass of wine from the sparkling-clean kitchen, bless Cotton and his urge to take care of people. He was quiet as Ellery climbed into bed next to him, laptop open, and set the television to something quiet and mindless for background noise. About the time the first program was over, he spoke again, his words so unexpected Ellery startled and almost sent his laptop skittering to the floor.
“Are your parents coming here for Thanksgiving?” he mumbled.
