Found at the Library Read Online Free PDF Page A

modus operandi. The entire situation puzzled him.
    “I could use the money, so I’d like to hear what you have to say.” Tommy laughed harshly like he’d heard some sort of macabre joke in that statement. “But I don’t have time. My store is closed. My studio is closed. My brain is closed. I don’t have the energy for this.” He waved a hand at Mac. “Or for you this morning. I have to get back to the hospital.”
    Someone was hurt or sick, and suddenly the pieces started to fall into place. Why T. Garrett had missed such an important event last night. Why the loft apartment looked like a disaster even though his studio showed signs of a fastidious person who was normally very organized and tidy. Mac doubted Tommy was only meticulous and neat in his art studio, so something had gone very wrong in his life in the last few days.
    Downstairs had also looked as if Tommy had just come in and breezed through, doing only the absolutely necessary for a few days now. Christmas décor decorated the store below, but the store had the stale air of disuse. Most shops counted on December sales to make it through the rest of the year. Even with the prestigious gallery showing at Stig’s, this struggling artist couldn’t be that different.
    That solidified the idea he couldn’t let this man go without helping. He didn’t know him, but meeting him two months ago had changed something integral in Mac’s life. He needed to honor that. “How long has it been since you ate?” he asked Tommy. “I’m guessing by looking at you, you’re living off coffee at this point.”
    “Hot tea, actually.”
    That brought Mac to a halt. “Really? I would have taken you for a java man.”
    Tommy shrugged. “My mom...” He looked a bit lost for a moment.
    “Okay, it doesn’t matter. You’re in a hurry. Do you need anything else here?”
    Tommy looked around his loft, looking confused and overwhelmed. “Um, my charger and my iPod?”
    “I saw both down in your studio.” Mac had gotten a glimpse of the studio space when he’d come in. The front section of the open downstairs space operated as a small store filled with book-themed gift items surrounded by simpler pieces of T. Garrett’s art. The storefront opened up to the studio, separated by a waist-high wrought iron railing to keep customers out of the artist’s workspace. It featured a two-story wall filled with books, complete with a rolling ladder. It was any bibliophile’s wet dream.
    The studio showcased a huge worktable piled high with books and partially completed works of art. That wall of books and the art Tommy created with them had overwhelmed Mac when he’d first walked in. Several of the pieces were works in progress. But if they lived up to their promising start, they’d blow the showpieces at the gallery away.
    “I’ll grab them from the studio while you get something to eat from your kitchen,” Mac told him.
    Tommy hesitated for a moment, the obvious urge to argue crossing his face.
    Mac distracted him. “What hospital?”
    “Why?” Tommy asked distrustfully.
    “Because you’re too tired to drive safely, and you can’t help whoever is there if you end up in the room next to them. You also need to eat, and you can do that while I drive you.”
    “Why? Why would you do that? You don’t even know me, and what you do know hasn’t exactly involved pleasant exchanges.”
    Mac wanted to tell the truth about how drawn he was to him, how he’d haunted him since the library book sale, but didn’t think the guy would believe him, and he didn’t want to argue with him anymore. Although the truth of exactly why would probably take Mac a few hours to figure out himself. Tommy needed help, and Mac needed to be the one to give it. So he lied. “I came here this morning because I want something from you, and when this emergency is over, I’ll still want to talk to you about it.”
    Tommy nodded as if that made complete sense to him, and that made Mac sad for him.