Turner eyed it suspiciously. “Why do I feel like there are strings attached to this?”
“I’m trying to be nice to you right now,” Gretchen said.
Slowly, he took it, watching her like she was a snake about to strike. “I appreciate it?”
Gretchen put a hand on her hip. “Is that a question?”
“No, just…this is weird.”
“I don’t like it either,” Gretchen said.
They had a stare-off for another handful of seconds, Josie shifting back and forth on her feet, feeling the secondhand awkwardness. When she couldn’t take it anymore, she said, “We think we’ve tracked down the guy who was having affairs with Maxine and Dani.”
A muscle under his eye twitched but he managed to match her cool professional tone. “How?”
Josie recounted the convoluted path that had led them to Griffin Holt’s doorstep. Turner started pulling at his beard in earnest. His deep blue eyes darkened. The rise and fall of his chest grew faster.
Gretchen tapped the can clutched in his hand. “Drink this.”
Josie was sure he hadn’t slept since she showed up at his apartment in the middle of the night. He probably needed the caffeine, but Josie didn’t think it was a good idea given his rising anxiety. She knew what Gretchen was doing, though. Giving him something to focus on. Something physical to do. A micro-distraction.
He thumbed the can open and took a sip. They were both used to him guzzling it like some drunken frat boy, but neither of them commented on that.
“Does he have them? Did you go to his house? What are you doing here? Oh, fuck.” He stumbled backward and Gretchen lunged forward, catching him under his elbow before he fell into his mother’s headstone.
“We don’t know anything yet, Turner. We’re still looking, okay?”
The can dropped from his hand. His eyes were terror-blind and under his beard, his skin turned ashen.
“Hey,” Gretchen said, fitting her body under his arm to take on his weight. “Hey, listen to me.”
Josie wrapped his other arm over her shoulders, holding his wrist as he wobbled back and forth between them.
“Turner,” Gretchen said firmly.
Without discussing it, Josie and Gretchen moved in tandem, guiding him toward Gretchen’s SUV. With one hand, Josie opened the liftgate and then she helped Gretchen get Turner under it and seated on the edge of the cargo area. His legs werelong enough that they reached the ground. Josie hopped up next to him, prepared to bar his chest if he fell over. Even seated, he seemed unsteady and out of it.
Gretchen stepped right up to him, inserting herself between his legs, and lightly slapped his cheek. “Hey, Turner. Look at me. Look. At. Me.”
Josie leaned forward so she could see his face. His eyes were still unfocused. “We’re still looking for Dani and Cassidy,” she told him. “Do you hear me?”
“Pull it together,” Gretchen said, slapping his cheek a little harder this time.
His movements were slow and sloppy, but he caught her wrist in his hand. He blinked several times. Once his breathing slowed, he said, “You’re enjoying this a little too much.”
A wave of relief crashed over Josie. There he was.
“Slapping you?” said Gretchen as he dropped her arm. “I’m just sorry you weren’t really out of it. I could have gone harder.”
Turner shook his head as Gretchen took a couple of steps back.
Josie said, “You’re not even going to say anything about her being in your personal space?”
“I’m saving it for my sexual harassment complaint,” he said. “Quinn, you’re my witness.”
“Not a chance,” Josie laughed.
They fell silent. Josie estimated five minutes passed by the time Turner’s breathing was completely under control again. He pushed his fingers through his already unkempt curls. Then he waved his hands at them. “All right, get away from me. It’s hot enough out here without you two crowding me.”
