Depth

by Rosen, Lev AC

  “Sure, fine. Besides, if whoever killed Linnea kills her . . . my life would get easier. Go.” She waved them off like insects.

  Caroline strode from the room without looking back, and Simone quickly zipped her boots, grabbed her hat and coat, and followed her. Caroline still wouldn’t make eye contact, but as Simone came closer to thank her, she spoke first.

  “Don’t say anything,” Caroline said. Her voice was cold. “Come with me.”

  “I need my gun,” Simone said. Caroline finally turned to look at her, and Simone felt like she was being prodded with a red-hot poker.

  “Get it,” Caroline said. Simone turned around and spotted Peter in a corner. She walked up to him and he handed her her gun back.

  “I called her,” Peter whispered. “She didn’t sound happy. What’s going on?”

  “Thanks,” Simone said, putting her gun back in her boot. She turned back around to find Caroline was halfway down the hall, so Simone ran to catch up. They walked off the boat in silence. They walked a few blocks more before Caroline finally turned around.

  “You’re a fucking idiot,” she said. Simone shrugged. “And I really don’t like you right now. And if you don’t trust me, I don’t know why I should trust you.”

  “I’m sorry—” Simone started, but Caroline cut the air with her hand and Simone stopped.

  “I don’t want to do this right now. I don’t have many friends.”

  “Me neither.”

  “I know. But I bailed you out because . . . for old times’ sake. And because I know Kluren is gunning for you, and it’s unfair. But I’m angry. And things aren’t good between us.”

  “I know,” Simone said, staring at the wooden bridge under her feet. “I fucked it up.”

  “Yeah.” They stood there in silence. Simone looked up at Caroline, who was staring at her, her mouth slightly open, her face more slack than usual. But when she saw Simone looking, she clenched her jaw and turned her head, staring off.

  “I’m going home now. You should find somewhere to stay. I’m guessing cops are still swarming all over your apartment.”

  “Yeah,” Simone nodded. “Thanks, Caroline. And I really am sorry.”

  “Good night.” Caroline turned around before the conversation could continue. As she walked away, she threw her hand up in a gesture that was half wave, half “go away.” Simone stared after her until she was gone, then turned and walked in the opposite direction.

  She walked for a while with no particular destination. The storm on the horizon was growing ominously closer, but she didn’t care. She felt as though she ought to be thinking about something: the case, the comments Kluren made about her father, how she could make it up to Caroline—but her mind was curiously blank. She was blank all over. She was breath in a body in a city on the ocean, and that was all there was.

  SHE WOUND UP AT Danny’s because it was the place that made the most sense to go. She could have tried Peter . . . but that was complicated and messy, and he would have kept asking about what was going on with Caroline.

  All the lights were out except the neon one that read, “The Great Yanai,” and the sliding door was locked. Simone dictated a message to him over her earpiece saying she was outside, and a few moments later he waded out of the shadows behind the glass and opened the door.

  “Sad,” he said, looking her over.

  “So are your pajamas.”

  He looked down at the bright yellow briefs he was wearing. They had a large cartoon octopus over the crotch. “These? I like these,” he shrugged, then looked back up at her. “Come on in. What happened?”

  “Client’s dead body showed up at my place, police hauled me in, Caroline got me out, but told me she really didn’t want to see me, so now I can’t go home, I can’t go to Caroline’s. I was hoping I could crash here.”

  “Why not call up that delicious tourist of yours?” They walked forward through his office and up the back stairs to his apartment.

  “deCostas?” The thought of it made her mouth bitter. “No.”

  “How about you give me his number, and I call him up, then?”

  “I forgot to take photos of him naked for you, sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Some things are better left to the imagination. Anyway, the couch is yours. I have some blankets and a pillow somewhere around here.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hey, you took me in when I had nowhere to go. This is the least I can do—besides all the free help I give you.” He walked into his bedroom, and Simone sat down on the couch. It was comfortable. It would do for the night. She took off her boots and lay back. Danny came back out with a thick blanket and pillow and put them down on the sofa next to her. For a moment he stared at nothing, that vague look he got when searching the web, then he smiled down at her. “You wanna talk about it?”

  “You just read the police report, didn’t you?”

  “A prelim report from one of the on-the-scene techs. Your apartment is still being processed, but the word torture stuck out.”

  “My client. Linnea,” Simone breathed the name out softly and felt a stab of guilt in her lungs. She fished in her pocket for a cigarette and took it out. “You mind?” Danny shook his head. She lit it and inhaled deeply, filling her chest with something else. “Linnea. Tortured, left in my office. Some sort of warning.”

  “Who from?”

  “Dash Ormond, I think. Don’t know who he’s working for, though.”

  “Dangerous Dash? I thought we liked him.” Danny sat down next to her on the sofa.

  “We liked him when we weren’t in his crosshairs. But he’s just the weapon. Someone else is pulling his strings, and that someone wants the painting Linnea had and thinks I know where it is.”

  “Why do they think that?”

  “Because she hired me to spy on her husband, to make sure he didn’t double-cross her.”

  “You want to go over this from the top for me?”

  Simone inhaled deeply on her cigarette. She didn’t usually share her cases. She didn’t like asking for help.

  “Can I ask you something else, first?” she said, without looking at Danny.

  “Sure.”

  “What do you know about my dad?”

  “Only what you’ve told me.” Danny leaned back into the sofa.

  “Seriously?”

  “I know he ran the business before you. I know he taught you. I never looked into him. It seemed . . . You’re the first person I met when I escaped, you know? You’re the first person who saw me for who I was and helped me, and, yeah, we both know you did it ’cause you knew I’d come in handy, but you also did it ’cause you’re a good person.”

  “I’m really not.”

  “You are. You’re not always a good person, and you don’t trust people, and you’re kind of a bitch sometimes, but I don’t mind that. I was raised assuming no one could trust anyone except the people we worked for. That’s why I don’t mind it in you. That’s why you’re still one of my few real friends. And I know you might not trust me completely, but it doesn’t matter to me that you don’t, because I know I’ve never dug into your past—or your family’s. That’s not what friends do. Or so reruns of ancient TV shows on the web tell me.”

  Simone smiled and inhaled deeply on her cigarette. “You’re a good guy, Danny.”

  “I’m the product of a secret government experiment, all the information on the Internet, and what’s left of New York.”

  Simone shrugged. “Still . . .” Her cigarette was nearly out; she had been dropping ash on the floor. “Sorry,” she said, staring at it.

  “I’ll get it in the morning. Just put it out in the sink.” Danny motioned at the kitchen, and Simone rose and walked over, throwing the butt in the sink and running the water. “Why did you ask about your dad?”

  “Something Kluren said. Can you .
. . will you find out what you can for me?” She shut off the water and looked at him. He was staring at her—really staring, not online.

  “I can . . .” he said slowly. “But are you sure you want to know? I never had real parents, exactly, but it seems like a weird thing to go looking into. What if I find something—I wouldn’t say bad, but . . . something you wouldn’t want to know?”

  “You won’t,” Simone said. “You’ll get some files and some information, but you won’t know what it means. I’ll know.”

  “So?”

  “So, you can’t hold anything back, and anything you do tell me—I won’t blame you. That’s what you’re looking for, right?”

  “And I don’t want you to be . . . hurt, I guess.”

  “I’ll be fine, Danny.”

  “You want me to do it right now?”

  “No,” Simone said, walking back over to the sofa. “We can do it in the morning. And then I’ll tell you all about the case . . . and then maybe I’ll throw myself in the ocean.” She smiled without meaning to.

  “It worries me when people say things like that and smile.” Danny stood, and Simone lay down on the sofa, pulling the blanket over her.

  “Thanks, Danny.”

  “Anytime, boss.” He shut the light and padded quietly to his bedroom. Simone closed her eyes. Outside, she could hear the ocean washing softly against the building. It was so dark in this room—nothing but waves and black.

  THIRTEEN

  * * *

  A HIGH-PITCHED WHISTLE WOKE her up, and, for a moment, Simone forgot where she was. But then it all came back at her like the vibrant slashes on Linnea’s arms, and she lifted herself up on the sofa so she was sitting. Danny was in the kitchen, and the whistling was from a tea kettle.

  “You have coffee, too, right?” Simone said.

  “I do, but only decaf,” Danny said. Simone frowned. “I have the Internet in my head. It’s hard enough getting to sleep as is.”

  Simone groaned and put her head in her hands. Her hair streamed over her face, bright red in the morning light.

  “There’s a coffee boat that docks right down the bridge in the mornings. If you need it, go get yourself a cup.”

  “I will in a minute. Can I shower first?”

  “Sure—right there.” Danny pointed at the bathroom and poured himself some tea. Simone showered quickly, splashing the water over her face until she felt awake. When she got back out, Danny was sitting on the sofa, drinking his tea and staring ahead vacantly.

  Simone sat down next to him, toweling her hair. He glanced over at her, anxiously, then went back to staring ahead.

  “What’d you find out?”

  “I . . . I looked into your dad like you asked. It was just hacking NYPD files. You probably could have done it yourself . . .”

  “Probably,” Simone admitted. “But I don’t like computers. That’s why I have you.”

  “I do so love the way you make me feel like a complete person, after my time being raised as a tool for the government.”

  “You’re just angry I didn’t bring you those naked photos of deCostas.”

  He looked at her, his eyes focusing on her, his brain going offline. “You’re really not good at apologizing, are you?”

  Simone stopped drying her hair and raised her eyebrows. “I was just kidding.”

  “I know, but it was a little over the line, considering you’re the only one who knows how not-human I am. But I don’t mind that. I’m just making an observation. Did you apologize to Caroline?”

  “I sent her a bunch of straws.”

  Danny laughed in a way that seemed a little cruel. “That’s something, anyway.” Simone stared at him in silence, and he looked away for a moment.

  “What did you find out about my dad?”

  “You sure you want this?”

  “Yeah . . . And hey. I am sorry—you know, if I offended you with that crack. You are a person.”

  “Your dad and Kluren had an affair.” He said it quickly, like he’d been holding it in.

  Simone looked down. “How can you know that from hacking a server?”

  “Kluren admitted it.” Simone felt her face go warm. “They had an affair. Your dad broke it off. They figured it out when Kluren asked for a transfer, asked her flat out. They were both reprimanded, and Kluren was demoted. They were going to demote your dad, too, but he went for early retirement instead.”

  “And that’s when my mom left, too.” Danny didn’t say anything. Simone felt a chuckle leave her mouth, but the rest of her was cool. “Never make assumptions,” she said quietly to herself.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Simone looked up at Danny and smiled.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, thanks. I’m just going to get that coffee,” Simone said, heading for the door.

  “Okay. And sorry about your dad.”

  She didn’t turn around as he said it but paused before opening the door. Then she kept walking.

  Outside it was bright and clear, the sort of day that makes happy people smile and inhale deeply and unhappy people go back to bed. The light glared off the water, hurting her eyes. She put her hat on and kept her face down, pacing to the end of the bridge, where a small coffee boat run by a man with a large mustache was docked. She got a hot black coffee and sat down on the edge of the bridge, her legs over the edge. There was only a cheap rope railing, barely noticeable, and she stared through it at the ocean, drinking. When the coffee was nearly done, she lit a cigarette and called Caroline at work. She picked up after three rings.

  “I don’t know if I want to talk to you,” Caroline said.

  “Fair enough. I shouldn’t have, but . . . Did you know my dad had an affair with Kluren?” There was silence.

  “That explains a lot,” Caroline said, her voice sounding cautious.

  “Yeah.” More silence.

  “Look, I have work to do.”

  “I’m sorry. I just . . . I saw you in a photo with The Blonde, Marina, and my brain went into work mode. Imagine if I tried to park a boat in the city without a permit.”

  “That’s a crap example, Simone. I thought we were friends and then one photo and you think I’m trying to kill you. That’s not friendship. That’s . . . I don’t know.”

  “I didn’t want to ask you about it. I didn’t want to put you in a position where you might have to lie to me.” Simone stared at her cigarette, then tapped the ashy end of it into the water.

  “This isn’t helping your cause.”

  “I just was afraid that if I told you about it, you’d get angry and . . . well, we’d end up where we are.”

  More silence. A seagull soared over her, then dove into the ocean like a brick.

  “So your plan was a failure,” Caroline said.

  “Big time.”

  “So you had Danny ask me—”

  “No—that was all him,” Simone interrupted. “He found the picture, and I told him to keep his mouth shut. But he’s Danny.”

  “Did you think I had anything to do with the case, though? Did you think I’d hired Marina to threaten you?”

  “No . . . Can we talk about this in person?”

  “Afraid the line is tapped?”

  “I’m being closed in on right now. Lot of pressure.”

  “I’ll call you back, then. I’ll use the mayor’s fancy encrypted scrambler line. That good enough? Or do you think he’s involved, too?”

  “That’s good,” Simone said, and they hung up. The sun beat down on her, making her clothes cling. Her earpiece rang, the little light from under her ear projecting the incoming call from “unknown.”

  “Yeah?” she clicked the phone.

  “Secure line. I think you were apologizing? Poorly?”

  “Okay, I thought maybe you were involved. Bu
t I didn’t think you’d sent Marina after me. Marina pointed the gun at me ’cause I was following her. She wasn’t hired to do that. I just didn’t know how you fit in. And I didn’t want to ask you. So I kept investigating. Once I knew how you were involved, I would have told you.” Simone tossed what was left of her cigarette into the ocean. It cartwheeled into the water, one end leaving a trail of sparks like blood splatter.

  “Instead of asking.”

  “Yeah. That was the dumb part.”

  “In case I was involved in something bad.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You didn’t want me to lie to you about it.”

  “Yeah.”

  Simone could hear Caroline typing something. She took a long sip of the coffee. It tasted bitter and chalky.

  “I got your straws,” Caroline said after a moment.

  “Did you like them?”

  “It’s a lot of straws.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m still pissed.”

  “Yeah,” Simone said, closing her eyes. She waited for Caroline to hang up. She didn’t.

  “So do you know where my painting is? My parents are asking.”

  “Your painting?” Simone asked. The sun felt a little brighter on her neck.

  “Yeah. We won the auction. Marina said she’d get me the painting as soon as it was recovered, but I guess one of the losers didn’t like being a loser and went after it themselves.”

  “You won the auction?” Simone said.

  “That’s what Marina said.”

  “Sorenson told me he won the painting. In front of Marina. She said he won it.”

  “That bitch,” Caroline said.

  Simone let the silence hang intentionally this time, and smiled. “I know you’re not my biggest fan right now,” she said.

  “Yeah?”

  “But maybe you want to tag along when I go visit her?”

  “Are you asking me along to watch you interrogate someone I’m angry at in an attempt to repair our friendship?”

  “That is exactly what I’m doing.”

  “Will you let me hit her?”