Depth

SEVENTEEN

SIMONE LEANED BACK IN her unused receptionist’s chair, her feet up on the desk. She waited for him to knock first and smiled when he did.

“Come in,” she called.

He walked in and sat down across from her. He ran his fingers through his hair, then grinned at her. Simone couldn’t tell if he knew what was coming, if he was prepared for it. She’d have to be careful.

“I’m happy you called,” deCostas started. “I very much enjoyed our time together the other night. I was hoping we could do it again.”

“I was, too,” Simone said. It was practically a purr, but she pulled back. Too much and he’d get suspicious. “I had such a bad day yesterday.” She swung her feet off the desk and stood, walking around to him.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, smiling. She sat down on the desk, and he put his hand on her thigh. Simone smiled, using all her self-control not to kick him.

“You remember that other detective I told you about, Dash Ormond?” deCostas shook his head. “Sure you do. I said he was the one to go to if you wanted a more forceful approach, right? You looked at his card.”

“I remember, right,” deCostas said, not meeting her eye but staring at his own hand as it began to stroke her leg. “I didn’t want to hire him, though. I knew I had to work with you.”

“Mmm,” Simone said. “Well, he tried to kill me last night.”

“What? That’s terrible!” deCostas said, standing, waiting a moment, and then looking her in the eye.

“And he tried to kill my friend Caroline.”

“He sounds like a very bad man,” he said, his voice teasingly sexual.

“He’s more a tool than a man,” Simone said. She crossed her legs, letting her foot dig into his leg. “So, I’m trying to figure out who hired him.”

“Will dwelling on it really help?” deCostas asked. “Wouldn’t it be better to forget all about it? I could give you a massage,” he smiled.

“Funny thing is—he tried to drown me. In a dry tunnel under the city.” Simone watched him carefully. His eyebrows raised, his eyes opened wider, but his pupils stayed the same, and it took just a fraction of a second too long. “So I owe you an apology. You were right. There was a place where you could walk down under the waves. But it’s gone now. I didn’t even get a picture.”

“I accept your apology,” he said, “but I’m sorry you didn’t get photos or… proof. I could have published with just that—what a discovery!” He sighed—forced, Simone thought. “Perhaps there is a way you could make it up to me?” He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Simone was positive now. It was deCostas. deCostas had money and backing from the EU, knew about the painting, and was the one who wouldn’t get just a tunnel and some money out of finding the rail. He wouldn’t care if the government took it over. He’d get a career, a reputation. There were people all over the city, maybe the world, looking for tunnels, and they’d all drown him in money to find another one once word got out that he’d found the first. And he didn’t seem to care that she’d found it.

“Maybe there is,” she said. “You see, the police caught Dash. They’re hacking his wristpiece now.”

“Oh?” deCostas said. Now his pupils shrank.

“Maybe I can find out who hired him, if I can get my hands on the data they extract. And then you can go talk to them and find out how they knew.”

“Oh, I don’t know if that’s very important,” he said. His eyes narrowed. “When did they catch him?”

“Last night,” Simone said, “maybe early this morning.”

“Mmm,” deCostas said, and leaned back a little, suddenly relaxed. Simone forced herself to smile. She was losing him.

“Don’t you want to know all about it?” Simone said, almost whispering in his ear. She wrapped her legs around his and drew him close, locking him in place. His eyes met hers, and he smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile. He wasn’t trying to be charming now.

“I think I know enough. Would you like to move this to a more comfortable location, perhaps?” He wrapped his arm around her, ground his hips into her. He was teasing her. He’d figured out it was a setup. Dash must have contacted him sometime recently—after “early this morning.” Simone held back a scream of frustration.

“Later,” she said. “I’m really caught up in this case. I want to check in with my contact at Teddy. See if they’ve hacked the wristpiece yet.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t count on that,” deCostas said.

“No?”

“No. These criminals. They always have a way of slipping away. Even when they’re caught.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Simone let her legs relax, letting him step away. “It’s a real pity,” she said with some violence. The charade was mostly over now. She was just keeping it up to make him think she didn’t think she’d lost.

“Maybe,” deCostas said, stepping away. “But if you’re going to be busy with your police friends, I think I’ll take my leave. I have some things to wrap up before I head back to the EU.”

“Head back?” Simone asked.

“I’ve been asked to head up an exploration for a tunnel under Barcelona. A small one, not like the pipeline here, but I’ll have a whole team.”

“Impressive, considering you never found anything here,” Simone said, her voice edging cold now. “I mean, I found something, but it wasn’t because of your little metal balls or your tools. It wasn’t even the guy you hired. It was me.”

deCostas narrowed his eyes at her and stepped forward. He looked angry—that passion was back, the kind she’d seen spark up violently in his eyes before—the desire to prove something.

“I mean,” Simone continued, “you really just stumbled across it. And no one will ever know it existed, unless I tell them. And I’m not going to do that. So how exactly did you get a team? Wouldn’t they want to know more? I could call them.”

deCostas’ eyes were all fury now, and he raised his hands as if to strangle her, but Simone was ready and had her gun to his head before he could squeeze.

“You didn’t find a damn thing,” Simone said in a near whisper. “I did. Remember that. And you won’t find a damn thing without me.”

deCostas let go of her neck and swallowed. Then his eyes went cool again, and he smiled.

“Next time, I’ll know better,” he said.

“So you did hire Dash,” Simone said. “You admit it.”

deCostas smirked again. “You’re recording this?”

Simone rolled her eyes. “Why would I bother?” she asked.

“So you have evidence when you haul me into the police station. Maybe your friend Caroline already made a phone call, got a warrant drafted? Well, maybe you should get this on your recording, then: You know where my funding came from?”

“It comes from the EU, some foundations, your university,” Simone said, trying to sound confident. What did his funding have to do with anything?

“Partially. But a very large part of it also comes from right here in New York. From a very prominent family.” Simone clenched her jaw. The door to the hall behind her opened, and Caroline stood in the door, Peter just behind her. They had earpieces on, listening to the bug under her desk. Caroline’s eyes were hard, but her mouth was soft. Her lips were separated enough to let in thin whistles of breath. deCostas glanced up at Caroline, then back at Simone, and the corners of his mouth popped up like switchblades. “The Khans,” he said. “In fact, I probably never would have hired Dash to find Linnea if I hadn’t gotten a call from Mr. Khan saying he had just bought a painting he wanted me to look at. I thought that was funny, since Marina told me the painting was still for sale. When I told Khan that, we decided to put Dash on it. He found out who Marina was working for, and then he tried to find the painting and the location on it. You’ll find he was paid by Mr. Khan. I believe you told me, Simone, that Dash has a reputation—he’s who one goes to for dirty work?” Simone stared at him, silent. Outside the water was calm, lapping at the building, the sound of a slow breeze. “All for the Khans,” he said slowly, each word pointed. “Is that the evidence you want? Because if it is, I think, perhaps, the reporters who cover the story may suggest that the Khans were fully aware of Dash’s reputation and his actions. Which would be true.”

Simone turned to look at Caroline, whose eyes were fixed on deCostas. Behind her, Peter had taken out his handcuffs but wasn’t moving.

Caroline stepped forward and slapped deCostas across the face. It left a deep red mark, but it sounded weak, like one drop of water hitting the floor in an empty room.

“It’s been lovely,” deCostas said, stepping back. “Look me up if you’re ever in the EU.” He headed for the door and opened it but turned to look at Simone one more time. She saw his real face again, lacking charm and painted over with ambition. She smiled at him, and then he left. She realized she was still holding the gun up, and that her neck was warm as if he’d actually grabbed it. She inhaled deeply, salt and sweat and a touch of cologne, and she put the gun down on the desk.

“We got a confession,” Peter said. “I could go arrest him.”

Simone plucked the bug from under her desk and crushed it in her hand. Caroline was still staring at the door.

“Not an option,” Simone said. “Caroline’s career would be over, that kind of scandal. I’m going to go after him, wait till it’s dark. Kill him.” She started to get down from the desk, but Peter put his hand on her arm and pulled her back.

“I can’t let you do that, soldier.”

“It’s what he deserves,” Simone said.

“I… I’m a good cop, Simone,” Peter said softly. “I’ve never overlooked a confession before… I will if you ask me to. But I can’t let you kill him.”

“He’s right,” Caroline said. “Don’t kill him. This is my fault. I can weather a scandal like that. Peter, go arrest him.”

“Absolutely not,” Simone said, grabbing Peter’s wrist. “You’re not the mayor, Caroline. A scandal this big, no matter how much the mayor needs you, he’s going to get rid of you. Your chances for running for mayor will be over. Your career will be over. You know that. We all know that.”

Everyone was quiet for a long time. Simone took her gun from the desk and stuck it back in her boot. “I’m going to kill him.”

“No,” Peter put his hand on her shoulder. “Please, Simone. I can’t.”

“Then leave,” Simone said, pulling away.

“No,” Caroline said firmly. “Besides, if he vanishes, or his body turns up, how do we know it won’t create just as much of a scandal? This is my fault.”

“This is deCostas’ fault!” Simone shouted, throwing a hand towards the door. “And you’re all just going to let him get away with it?”

“Yes,” Caroline said, softly. “He gets away with it.”

“And Dash vanishes. Maybe becomes someone new but with the same job description in some other city.” Simone said. They all stood for a moment in silence.

Caroline finally moved, turning and going over to the sofas in the corner of the room. She fell into one, and looked out the window.

“Sometimes I hate this city,” Caroline said.

“Hate it and love it,” Simone corrected, coming to sit beside her. “All the time.”

“Yeah.”

They all sat in silence a moment. Outside, the waves were crashing loudly, almost cheerfully.

“I should go report something to Kluren…” Peter said, finally. “I’ll say he didn’t confess. He was too cool.”

“Let me come,” Simone said, getting up. “I need to talk to her anyway.”

Caroline stood with them. “I should go, too,” she said, her voice like metal. “I need to talk with my parents.”

THEY PARTED FROM CAROLINE a few bridges from the apartment. She hadn’t spoken as they walked, but had looked straight ahead, and the wind had blown her hair back like spilled ink. Simone said goodbye as they split up, and Caroline reached out and squeezed Simone’s hand. But she hadn’t said anything, and then she’d walked away. Simone and Peter walked in silence for a while.

“So you slept with him?” Peter asked. “I mean, I know it’s none of my business. Sorry.”

“It was a thing,” Simone said. “Which I regret, obviously.”

They walked in silence a while longer.

“It’s been nice, you know. Hanging out with you again. We haven’t really done that in a while.”

“Yeah. That’s my fault. I thought it would be easier if it was a totally clean… you know.”

“But it hasn’t been bad, has it? Using me for information and not returning the favor? Just like old times.”

“Yeah,” Simone said grinning. “Just like old times.”

They walked a little faster now, their hands in their pockets because though the day was sunny, it had turned cold, and the wind had bite.

KLUREN LOOKED UP AS Peter and Simone walked in.

“What are you smiling about?” she asked. Simone shook her head. She didn’t think she’d been smiling.

“It was deCostas who hired Dash,” Simone said. “But he won’t admit it.”

“And you have no proof.”

Simone shook her head.

“Then I repeat, what the fuck are you smiling about?”

“I went under, and I came back up,” Simone said with a shrug. “Doesn’t happen too often.”

“I sometimes think it happens too much.” Kluren looked back down at her desk, as if done with the conversation. But Simone wasn’t done. She didn’t want to be Kluren’s punching bag anymore.

“I know about you and my dad,” Simone said. Kluren’s face, already hard as stone, seemed to stiffen.

“Weiss, you leave.” Peter nodded and walked out of the office, closing the door behind him.

“You see her when you see me, don’t you? The woman you couldn’t get my dad to leave for you.”

Kluren shook her head, her face almost soft. “I see your dad, who quit the force because both of us fucked up. I didn’t quit. I worked hard to get past it. So I see a coward, and, yeah, I see your mom, but I always liked her okay. When I see your mom I don’t think about how your father didn’t leave her. I think about how she disappeared all of a sudden after your dad confessed.”

“Yeah, she left us ’cause she was angry.”

“I didn’t say left. I said disappeared.”

Simone let the words sink in and suddenly realized she wasn’t smiling anymore.

“What are you saying?”

Kluren stood and walked around the desk so she was close to Simone.

“I was never in love with your father,” she said, her voice gentler than usual. “Maybe you have some fairy-tale idea that he was perfect and no woman could resist him, but it wasn’t like that. It was time together, boredom, stakeouts, restlessness.” Simone thought maybe she’d seen her dad as irresistible as a kid, but now she remembered what he’d spent his life teaching her, and it made her think that he had been lonely. Lonely, sad, and angry.

“It wasn’t love,” Kluren continued. “I don’t know if he even liked me very much. Hell, I didn’t like him. So when he said we should stop, I said fine, and applied for a new partner. He said he was going home to tell his wife. Next thing I know he’s retired and your mom is gone. He was a cop. A good cop. He always got the evidence, even if he had to put it there. You can’t be that good a cop without having a little darkness in you. Not out here. So, yeah, I wonder sometimes where your mother went. She ever write to you? Did she leave you a goodbye letter?”

Simone crossed her arms.

“Didn’t think so. Makes you wonder about how he went out, doesn’t it?” Simone willed herself not to blink, to keep staring forward. “When I look at you, I see all that. But that’s not why I’m hard on you, Pierce. I’m hard on you ’cause you’re sloppy. You follow your instincts, but nothing else. That’s why deCostas is getting away. That’s why people are dead.”

Simone opened her mouth but had nothing to say and closed it again.

“Right.” Kluren walked back around to her side of the desk and sat down, looking at the papers in front of her while Simone stared, waiting for something, though she couldn’t say what. “You should go now.”

Peter was outside, waiting for her. She tried to smile at him but then realized she looked angry and shook her head. He followed her out of Teddy.

“What did she say?”

“That the ocean is deep and dark and we’re all just a few feet from drowning,” she said tonelessly. She could feel Peter stepping forward, reaching out to put his hand on her. Ten minutes before she would have wanted that, but now the thought of it made her sick. She didn’t know who he was. She didn’t know who anyone was. Her dad had been a corrupt cop. She was probably dirty, too, in some way, and she didn’t want to get that on Peter, if he was clean. And if he was dirty, she didn’t want to know.

She turned around before he could touch her and locked her eyes with his. She sidestepped his hand. “I should go,” she said. “I’m supposed to meet Caroline and Danny. I’ll see you later.”

“Sure,” he said. He looked confused and sad and Simone knew it was her fault, but she couldn’t fix it.

“We can all drown together,” Simone said. Peter nodded, though he clearly didn’t understand, then went back inside. But Simone stayed on deck a few minutes longer, staring up at the sky, where the seagulls flew like dirt in the wind. The air was getting even colder, and the salt smell was stronger now, burning her nose and eyes.

She remembered the day she’d poured her dad into the water. She’d found him dead in his office armchair one morning, gun in his hand, bullet in his skull. She’d taken his body to the recycling center herself, wrapped up in sheets in the back of a taxi boat with a driver who kept staring at her. She asked them to take care of it as quickly as possible, but when they saw the red button on his temple, the entrance and exit wounds, they asked her to wait in the other room.

She’d sat alone there, didn’t call anyone, didn’t cry, didn’t check her messages. The room was small and white and brightly lit like a freezer. Eventually, one of the attendants had come back in and brought her back to the room where her father was. She was led in as Kluren was walking out. They stared at one another as they passed in the hall, and Simone looked back as she went into the room. Kluren stood outside, arms crossed, waiting.

They had burned her father and handed her the ashes in a black plastic cylinder. She’d held it in both hands as she walked back out, as though it held something more than dust. Kluren was still there. They looked at each other from across the room, and Simone felt her eyes water up but then swallowed, deeply, and forced her face straight. She’d never spoken to Kluren alone. It had always been her dad who handled things when they got hauled in to the police.

Simone walked across the room to her. Kluren’s golden eyes seemed to dilate slightly, taking her in. They’d stared at each other, Simone trying to figure how to ask what she wanted to ask.

“Clearly a suicide,” Kluren said, as if reciting to a judge. “No need for investigation. Case closed. File sealed.”

Simone let out a deep breath and stared down at the black cylinder.

“And you won’t tell anyone?” she asked.

“No,” Kluren said.

“Then it was a heart attack,” Simone said, looking back up. Kluren’s expression didn’t change, but she leaned forward very slightly.

“You have a lot of potential. You should join the force. I could make sure you moved up the ranks quick, lose some bad habits.”

Simone shook her head, her eyes watering again, though she didn’t know why. “Dad always said the cops had too much red tape to deal with. Couldn’t get things done.”

Kluren let out a disappointed sigh. “Look around, Simone. You’re alone in the middle of the ocean. We all are. Do you really think it matters what color the tape is, as long as it holds us together?”

“My dad—”

“Don’t be him.” It wasn’t so much an order as it was a warning. “Be better.”

Simone realized how close they were now, how she could feel the heat off Kluren’s body, almost see the circuits in her eyes, and she stepped backwards. She stroked the black cylinder in her hands and looked down at it. It was made of cheap plastic. It felt like if she squeezed it, it might crack and explode in her hands, sending ashes everywhere in a cloud.

When she looked back up, Kluren was gone. Simone told everyone it was a heart attack. Her dad hadn’t taken great care of himself. No one doubted it. They told her how sorry they were and offered to cook for her and take her in and make everything better. She smiled and shook her head. She was fine. Never trust anybody. Not even Dad.

There had been clouds on the horizon that day, and the water had been choppy. It had looked to Simone like the waves were reaching out to pull the ashes down, to sink them as low as they would go, to the blackest part of the water.

Her mother had never left her a note, but that didn’t matter much anymore. It didn’t even matter if what Kluren was implying was true or if when she met Simone at the recycling building that day, she’d been unsurprised. Relieved. However her mother had gone, she’d gone.

Simone turned and walked off Teddy. She tapped her earpiece and called Caroline.

“I hate my parents,” Caroline said, when she answered. Simone laughed at this and found she couldn’t stop. She laughed as she walked down a rickety bridge and the water reached up to grab her. “What’s so funny?” Caroline asked over her laughter, and Simone stopped.

“Nothing,” she said.

“You okay?” In the background, Simone could hear Caroline walking through City Hall Plaza, her footsteps on the solid wood, the fountain in the background. She pictured her there, staring up at the city, about to go into work after an awful morning, and still as poised and put together as a statue.

“Let’s have dinner. I want to tell you some things.” She stopped next to a large cruise ship and lit a cigarette.

“Okay,” Caroline said. “But not out. I’m sick of eating in public.”

“So come over. I’ll grab some food from one of the noodle carts or something.”

“Get the pad thai from Suzy’s,” Caroline said. “I’ll be by after work. I’ll complain about my parents some more.”

“Me too,” Simone said, exhaling smoke. It spread out into the air like vanishing ghosts.

“Okay, see you then.”

“Yeah,” Simone said. “And thanks.”

“For what?”

“For listening, I guess.”

“Sure,” Caroline said. “Later, stalker.” Caroline hung up. Simone stood where she was for a long moment. There were no other people in sight, and she could hear the waves underfoot and the way they hit the boat’s side. She could smell the salt and the vague gasoline smell of boats. She took another drag on her cigarette. There were a lot of bodies under her, their ashes piling up to make underwater trenches and caves. Tunnels, maybe. She smiled at that. Tunnels made of ash leading all the way back to the mainland. But she was still floating. She threw her cigarette into the water. Its burning red end went out immediately, like the final flash of lightning in a storm. She watched the cigarette bob there for a moment—just another bit of trash in the ocean. Then, she put her hands in her pockets and started walking home.