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“Not now. Before the infusion. Since Elaine died, you just haven’t been yourself. At least not with me.”
“I spoke to her.”
“I heard,” Holly says. “Along with the rest of the tribe, right?”
JJ shakes her head lazily from side to side. “Not that time.”
“Oh, yeah. You spoke to Elaine before, didn’t you? That was why the group went to see her.”
“No, not then… later.”
“Later?” Holly’s neck stiffens. “Are you saying you spoke to Elaine again after the tribe confronted her?”
“Yes.” JJ shifts on the recliner. Her legs twist from side to side, and she repositions herself as if trying to find a comfortable spot and failing. “I should’ve told her. I really should have. I feel awful about what happened.”
Holly sits up bone straight. “Told Elaine what?”
JJ’s voice rises. “Is it getting louder?”
“I’ll turn it down.” Holly lowers the volume. She realizes she probably shouldn’t persist in questioning her client under the influence, but she can’t resist. “Why do you feel awful, JJ? What didn’t you tell her?”
JJ doesn’t reply for several seconds as her breathing quickens and she continues to shuffle in her seat. Finally, she says, “I saw you, too.”
“Focus on the last time you spoke to Elaine. What should you have told her?”
“You were here!”
“What are you talking about?”
“I forgot my jacket. The cleaner downstairs, she let me back into the office to get it. I heard noises. And that smell!”
Holly feels panic swirling in her gut. “What smell? When?”
“That stink. Like burnt plastic. I thought there was a fire. I had to check.” Despite the blindfold she is wearing, JJ points somewhere across the room. “You were right here.”
The foreboding grips Holly like a hand to her throat. The office door! JJ was the one who had opened it.
“That stink! I searched it online,” JJ says, her voice rising. “It was DMT, wasn’t it?”
“This isn’t about me…” Holly sputters.
“Turn it down!” JJ cries, grabbing at her ears.
Holly turns off the music. But it doesn’t help to calm JJ.
“I can’t breathe.” She pulls her right arm back, stretching the IV tubing that runs from it.
Holly lurches forward. She fumbles to attach the syringe to the IV port and, as soon as it’s connected, plunges the whole dose of midazolam into JJ’s arm.
“Make it stop!” JJ cries, rocking in the recliner while grabbing her ears.
Holly can barely breathe herself, but she forces calm into her voice. “Everything will be all right, JJ. I’m here.”
After a minute or two, JJ’s rocking slows, and her respiration lessens. Soon, she is still again.
“JJ?”
Her only response is an unintelligible whimper. And then she begins to snore.
