Page 107 of So Close

I grab his wrist as he starts to straighten. “Is everyone okay?”

“Everyone’s good.”

I sit up, wrapping my arms around my tucked legs. Salma wheels her trolley to the tub.

“They questioned me,” he elaborates, turning his back and walking a few feet away to give me privacy. “Just routine. I was visible to the UCs through the window the whole time, looking at my phone, so they’re probably done with me. They’ll interview all the employees and look at my man in the restaurant, but everyone saw him cleaning up broken glass when the hit went down.”

I exhale my relief. The bathtub sits parallel to the window, and I rest my cheek on my knees to look at Central Park and Harlem in the distance. Millions of people are going about their day, having no idea I’ve just taken a man’s life.

“The plan is holding so far,” he reassures. “My NYPD source says they like your mother for the hit since the UCs watched her stroll out of the restaurant in broad daylight. We’re already in Laska’s cloud backup, deleting anything that could tie to you. The authorities don’t know Steph Laska had a daughter, and we’ll keep it that way. If someone’s paying attention, the IP address is the NYPD’s, which won’t be a surprise.”

“You never miss a trick.”

“That’s my job description. Listen … I’m proud of you. Thank you for what you’ve done for all of us. We’ll talk later. Aliyah’s been blowing up my phone since yesterday. It would’ve been better if you hadn’t mentioned the contractor in Seattle – she’s going to wonder how you learned that info. I’ve got to clean up and get to work.”

“Tilt your head back,” Salma orders, a spray bottle of glue remover in hand.

“Rogelio.” With my neck resting against the lip of the tub, my gaze is on the ceiling. The marble veining in the corner by the sink looks like a spider’s web. “I need to know if there’s anything about a boat in Val’s cloud. Photos, mentions … anything.”

“Close your eyes,” Salma instructs.

“What kind of boat? A yacht?”

“Possibly a small boat. A sailboat.” Abruptly, the hot water isn’t warm enough to fight a chill, and I shiver. “He told me to find the boat.”

“Yourboat?” he asks sharply.

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“It’s a sick joke. The only way to find a shipwreck is to sink to the bottom of the ocean.”

“He wasn’t in any condition to make wisecracks.”

“Okay.” His words are clipped. “We’ll look.”

“Something else … I think she might be alive.”

“Who?”

“You know who,” I retort wearily. “When Val first saw my face, I’m sure he thought I was her for a split second. He didn’t look shocked.”

“You can’t know that. You rushed the guy with a knife. It’s all instinct at that moment, for you and him. You can’t read anything into facial expressions.”

“He said she’ll be proud of me. Not that shewould havebeen, but that shewillbe.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Salma dismisses, rubbing the spray into my hairline.

“He was lying on a bathroom floor with a knife in his heart,” Rogelio argues. “That he even said anything at all tells you he had the strength of an ox. He was dying and gibbering. Not to mention you’re in shock. What you’re thinking and feeling, what you remember or don’t … it’s all going to be scrambled in your head. Remember, eyewitnesses are notoriously unreliable.”

“Forget what I saw,” I tell him. “Go with what I felt. Okay?”

“There’s no way she’s alive,querida. I know you’d feel better if you’d buried her body, but she went overboard miles out to sea during a storm. The chances of her surviving are non-existent.”

“I survived.”

“You didn’t have a bullet in your chest!”

“Rogelio, please.”

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