86.
Jamie
They’d taken her out through a crowd, the officer in the driver’s seat making apologies the whole way back to the precinct. Jamie had smiled at him, and nodded, and said, “I’d rather it be you than those FBI guys,” and she left it at that while the cop went on, talking about the good she’d done for Staten Island.
They hadn’t put her in a jail jumpsuit when they brought her into the interrogation room, and they’d uncuffed her before they left her in there, alone, while they went off to file paperwork or whatever it was they were doing. “The FBI’s gonna come soon,” a cop promised her, still apologetic, when he stuck his head into the room a few minutes later. “You need anything while you wait? Coffee? Soda?”
“I’m fine, thanks,” Jamie said. “Is my daughter all right?”
“Your friend Clarice is with her,” the cop said, “and Sienna Nealon is hanging around. Doubt she’ll see any trouble for now.” And he left her alone again with the two-way mirror.
She stared at herself, at the tangled mess that was her hair after a day’s work of trying to save her daughter. It was hard to believe it had only been a few hours she’d been on the run. “Feels like a year,” she said quietly, as the door clicked open again.
“You got a visitor,” another cop said, like he was asking for permission. “This guy says he knows you.” He opened the door wide enough to reveal—
“Jacob,” Jamie said, taking a step backward, “I mean … Mr. Penny.”
He was looking slightly disheveled, his shirt still unbuttoned at that top button. “Ms. Barton,” he said, sliding into the room, his ever-present briefcase missing at last. “How are you?”
The cop spoke up, interrupting her answer. “So you know this guy?”
“He’s my … banker,” she finished lamely, and the cop gave her a puzzled look then shrugged and left, closing the door behind him.
“Just your banker?” Penny asked, looking a little mischievous and slightly wistful all at once.
“Well …” Jamie said, “I, uh … don’t know if you’ve heard …” She waved to indicate the holding room around them. “I might be in jail for a little while. Not sure if you want to … associate with someone like that.”
“Yeah, it’d be a real pox on my reputation to associate with the Hero of Staten Island,” Penny said dryly. “I didn’t realize you were going to bolt from the room when I stepped out earlier—”
“I was being called a terrorist on television.” She looked down.
“No one in this town believes you’re a terrorist,” Penny said, shaking his head. “Sienna Nealon talked to the press, called the charges BS. The NYPD is keeping pretty quiet, but ‘people in the know’ have leaked like crazy to the media that this is all sounding pretty far-fetched. There are collections being taken up to help pay your legal bills.” He smiled. “It’s already raised several million just here on Staten Island. And I could be wrong … but I think Barton Designs might have gotten a fresh infusion of business this afternoon, at least, based on what I’ve heard from the talking heads.”
Jamie did a double take, then felt the slight wave of happiness evaporate. “That’s … that’s nice of people—”
“I think they just figured they ought to support their hero,” Penny said. “After all, someone’s paying that knucklehead Frost, so—”
“It’s … sweet of them,” Jamie said, sighing as she made a gravity channel to draw up a chair so she could collapse in it; Penny blinked and almost jumped back in surprise. “But you know I don’t have the operating capital to fulfill the orders I already have, so …” She exhaled quietly. “I guess they’re just going to have to be disappointed.”
“Not so fast,” Penny said, still smiling, “because I went over our findings—yours and mine—with our underwriting department, and, based on the fact that clearly something is badly amiss in your personal finances that is no fault of your own … they approved your loan extension—and additional credit.”
Jamie felt a lightheaded sensation. “They … am I …” She looked down, thumping her knuckles against the chair. “Oh. Good. I am sitting down.”
Penny laughed. “You are.” He waited a second. “I’ll help you untangle your finances. The bank is committed to helping you right this wrong that was done to you. You worry about fighting this fraud against your name … and we’ll take care of the rest of it, and hopefully … we’ll keep Barton Designs alive until you get this all behind you.”
Jamie sat there, chin pressed against the knuckles of her left hand, breathing in the moment as the room seemed to spinning around her, like the world had when the helicopter was going down earlier. “Mr. Penny—”
“Jacob.”
“—Jacob,” she said, leaning hard on her hand, “I … I don’t know what to say. Other than thanks. Profusely. I feel like I should say ‘thank you’ over and over until the words lose all meaning.”
“You could do that, but after they lost meaning it would be, uh, meaningless,” and he walked close to her. “I think most of us … seeing the terrible things that have happened to you, knowing how much of a hero you’ve been … I think we’re just glad we can do something to help you in return for all that you’ve done for us. I mean, Gravity Gal made us proud. She was there when we needed her—you should see the stories people are telling about her heroics, on every camera they can get, YouTube … You’re a real deal hero, Jamie, and you make us feel like … like maybe now we could be there for you when you need it.”
Jamie closed her eyes, covering her mouth with her hand as the feelings welled up inside her. It took her a few minutes to compose herself, but when she opened them, she found Mr. Penny still waiting there.
“You’ve helped save us,” he said finally. “Will you let us help you for a change?”