Lev Rosen - Depth

“There wasn’t a body.”

“Ah, well. Of course,” Kluren said, her words like little teeth sinking into Simone as she paused. “But what would make more sense is for me to put you in lockup for obstructing an investigation. Weiss can go by your place alone.” She looked back down at her desk and waved them off again.

“I can show you where the bloodstain is,” Simone offered. “If you don’t mind my swimming free a bit longer.”

Kluren looked at her and leaned back in her chair again.

“Sure,” she said after an achingly long moment. “Show us the crime scene, give us your notes, and stay the fuck out of my life, and you can swim free a few tides more—till we hook you for something else.” She sighed as she said the last few words, then stood, her body relaxed like dangling rope. “But just for fun, I’m going to have Weiss handcuff you as you lead us to the murder scene.”

“Suits me fine,” Simone said, placing her hands behind her back. Peter shook his head and clicked his cuffs loosely around her wrists.

“Now, let’s see this crime scene of yours,” Kluren said, motioning Simone towards the door. Simone led the way out. Other cops looked up briefly at her; some snickered, and most went back to work. Kluren chose a handful to accompany them to the crime scene.

Kluren made Simone take crowded streets. People stared at her, then quickly looked away. Simone held her head up, her chin pointed high. It wasn’t great for business, being paraded through town in cuffs, but it wasn’t as bad as actually being arrested. She briefly wondered if Kluren might accidentally nudge her over the edge of a narrow bridge in her handcuffed state, but Kluren wasn’t like that. Her dad had said that was why he couldn’t work with her: She was afraid to bend the rules. Simone knew that wasn’t entirely true, though. Kluren wore pants, ignoring all the bullshit federal laws everyone in the city ignored. She was clearly fine with bending some rules. Simone had never asked her dad which rules he’d meant.

Simone led them to the small building, and Kluren ordered her crime techs to start examining the place.

“Someone’s taken a sample of the blood,” one of the techs called. Kluren looked at Simone.

“Just blood type. It’s O positive, same as the vic.”

“I hope to see that in the files Weiss brings me.” Kluren glared, then tapped something on her wristpiece. Her eyes began glowing a bright blue—another ForenSpec feature. She looked around the crime scene. “There are a few blood drops leading out that way,” she said to the techs, pointing out the door opposite where they had come in. “Follow them.” She turned to Simone as though she’d forgotten she was there. “I’m done with you here. Weiss, take her home, please. Get the files. Keep the cuffs on her.”

A few blocks away, Peter took off the cuffs. Simone instinctively put her hands to her wrists to feel them, though they hadn’t chafed.

“Thanks,” she said.

“What the hell kinda waters you swimming in, soldier?”

“You don’t need to keep calling me that.”

“I like calling you that. And you dodged my question.”

“Why did you always let me be the soldier when we were kids?” Simone asked. “The soldier was the best action figure. You always got stuck being artillery guy, hanging back and bringing me guns when I needed them.”

“You liked being the solider.”

“Didn’t you?”

“I didn’t care either way.”

Simone smiled as they walked, but looked down so he couldn’t see. “And you dodged my question again.”

“What was the question?”

“What sort of trouble are you in?” Simone felt him close to her, warmth coming off him and touching her shoulder like the early sun. She stepped farther away.

“The usual kind, I guess.”

“You have no idea, do you?”

“I have too many ideas.”

“Well, do me and you a favor and drop them all.” His voice rose in frustration.

“No promises.”

“Of course not,” Peter sighed. They continued downtown in silence, walking an awkward space apart, trying to maintain a buffer of air, but sometimes knocking lightly against each other when the bridge swayed or the wind came on strong. Then they would put their hands out flat as if to apologize for that soft touch, to put more space between them again. The air smelled like salt and sweat.

When Simone unlocked the door, the memories of when she would bring Peter here after a night out washed over her for a moment. She pulled her hands through her hair, tugging at the roots.

“Everything is in the office,” she said. He followed her and handed her a compression card, which she laid down on her touchdesk. She pulled up the file marked 31-42-21, not minding if Peter saw it. If anyone could figure out her file-coding system, it would be him, but he wouldn’t give it up, either. She dragged the file to the compression card and waited as the two linked up and everything copied over onto the card—the photos of The Blonde, Linnea’s information, the recordings from Henry’s office, the video of Anika. She hoped that wouldn’t lose her a client. There really wasn’t much, it turned out. She handed the card back to him.

“Thanks,” Peter said. “Sorry you had to get mixed up in this.”

“It’s my job,” she said, smiling at him. She was sitting behind her desk; he was standing at the door. They looked at each other a while.

“I’ll let myself out,” he said and left. Simone took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She still had all her own copies of the files, but she was nearly content to let the case drop. There wasn’t much left to go on, and chances were Linnea wouldn’t be paying her anytime soon.

Then she checked her messages.

Most of them were junk, but the one that caught her eye was from Danny. The subject was “Found her again.”

There was no text, just a photo attachment. It was clearly yanked from a security camera somewhere in the city and was fuzzy, with poor color quality. Simone recognized both figures in the photo. The first was The Blonde. She was smiling, wearing a trench coat and pushing her hair from her face. The other was Caroline Khan.

SIMONE FOUND THE BONDS of friendship to be more akin to tightrope wires that she had no balance for. Consequently, she rarely walked them. Caroline was the exception.

Simone had met Caroline when she’d been hired to investigate whether the mayor was receiving under-the-table payments to favor certain city councilmen’s bills. She quickly realized that there were discrepancies in the mayor’s public itinerary, events where Caroline would stand in for him last minute, leaving his whereabouts unaccounted for. Seeing these absences as an opportunity to tail the mayor to a possible secret meeting, she tried to find the next gap by accessing Caroline’s schedule, guessing that she would know about her stand-in duties ahead of time.

She had thought Caroline would be spoiled, appointed for her family connections, and an easy mark. She had used a short-range EMF blocker to cause Caroline’s touchdesk to malfunction, then posed as an IT specialist. Caroline laughed as soon as Simone came in and, still laughing, waved Simone back out the door. Simone tried to get a word in, but Caroline just shook her head, still laughing. Outside, she got a text on her phone: “If you think I wouldn’t know what the PI investigating the mayor looks like, you must not think very highly of me. But thanks for the laugh. CK.”

Simone had tried a few more tricks, like hiring actors to stand in for her, but Caroline laughed them out of the office each time, and sent Simone a friendly text after each attempt. It wasn’t until Simone held a network extender outside the office and had Danny hack into Caroline’s touchdesk that she finally got what she needed. She tailed the mayor the next time he went off schedule—only to find that he was going home for a nap. She had Danny hack the network again and this time was surprised to find in Caroline’s schedule a note that said “1 p.m.—Coffee with Simone Pierce, MochAfloat.”