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Chuckling, I chose a soft, heather gray Henley from the middle drawer and pulled it over my head. “Did you think about what you want to eat?” I bent over to find briefs and then athletic pants.
Mattie made another undead sound. “No.”
My mouth turned down at the corners as I straightened with the rest of my clothing in my hands. I turned to face Mattie and found only a dark shape in the bed where she’d fallen face-first into the pillows. Concern for her needled at the base of my skull, and I tapped my finger against my folded clothing while I thought. Maybe, in this case, sleep was better than food anyway. But I could hang out near her to make sure she didn’t have to stumble down the stairs if she needed something. Honestly, I had no idea what to do with a sick civilian—it was way outside my scope of skills. But I wanted to stay near her, so that’s what I would do. No need to overthink the thing.
I finished dressing in the bathroom, and when I came back out, leaving the light on so I could see Mattie better, I found her in the same position. Her back rose and fell with steady breaths, but she was folded in half like a broken doll, and I couldn’t imagine that it was comfortable. With my bare feet sliding across the floors, I padded to her side of the bed before sitting on the edge. I reached over and lifted her up by the back of her shirt, pulling her out of her awkward position and settling her back on the pillows.
Mattie growled like an angry cat. “That’s not helping.”
“I doubt sleeping like that would, either.” I adjusted the gray comforter around her, and she blinked up at me from the swath of pillows and blankets that sucked her in like putty.
Her eyes, in this light, looked light as acorns. “Why are you being nice to me?”
“Four million dollars,” I lied, sitting away from her again.
Mattie snorted, which led to a coughing fit. I reached for the plastic tumbler full of water that sat amongst a collection of discarded tissues and lemonade bottles. She was drinking fluids, at least. As I handed it to her gingerly, trying not to think about how many germs were all over it, she said, “So, you admit I’m your employer now?”
“Mattie, you’re no more my employer than I am an actual ghost.” She sipped water from the straw, and I added, “But I admit, I’m a little invested in your problems. And, I suppose, in you.”
Mattie’s cracked lips turned up into a rueful smile. “I’ve seen better investments.”
“Me too,” I agreed dryly. I took the cup from her and set it back down. “You should get some sleep. We can revisit the food thing in the morning.”
Nodding, Mattie closed her eyes with a little puff of a breath. I stood up and shuffled over to the curved armchair by the wall of windows. The switch above the chair darkened the glass, blocking out the light from downstairs and plunging the room into darkness. My tablet still lay on the round table where I’d left it this morning, so I picked it up and pulled up the primary directive Tabitha had started for Mattie’s commission earlier.
Mattie shifted, turning over to her other side and coughing. I glanced up, and then returned my attention to the PD, which detailed resources needed—hardly any—and how it would factor into our budget. Although, as far as I could figure, it wouldn’t matter much what the budget was. Not for a four-million-dollar payout. But even if that wasn’t guaranteed, and I knew it wasn’t, it wouldn’t matter. It was a simple enough plan. The biggest asset required would be my time, and I had plenty of that with the business winding down.
Mattie coughed again, shifting to her back and fiddling with the pillows. I flicked a look her way, raising my eyebrow. “What’s wrong now?”
Mattie muttered something unintelligible.
“What?” I asked leaning forward a fraction.
“I can’t sleep if you’re here,” Mattie piped up in irritation.
I leaned back again, rolling my eyes. “You’re half dead. You’ll fall asleep just fine if you keep your eyes closed.”
“Now who’s being dramatic?” she teased.
I fought a smile. “Count bunnies in your head.”
“One bunny, two bunny, three bunny…”
“Not out loud,” I drawled.
“Sorry.” She went quiet again, shuffling in the bed. I listened to her breathing as I typed out notes in the PD, adding the need for a more detailed exit strategy for different contingencies based on what courses of actions her parents might take. They could react in any number of ways to us showing up with this charade in tow. Mattie’s breathing went suspiciously quiet, and I peeked up again.
Her body had gone totally rigid and still. She was fake sleeping. Most people didn’t seem to realize how obvious and loud a sleeping person really was. Their breathing went deep and even, and usually filled a quiet room with its sonorous quality. Mattie had gone dead quiet.
I set my tablet aside with a clatter and she jumped. I leaned my chin on my fist. “Do you need a lullaby, Cottontail?”
Mattie sat up, and the light from the bathroom backlit the messy halo of blond hair around her head. “How’s your singing voice?”
“Abominable,” I admitted.
“Probably not, then,” she rasped.
Sighing again, I stood from the chair and returned to the bed. Sitting down beside her, I motioned for her to lie back down. “Turn with your back to me.”
