EPILOGUE
Unlike most of the narrow galley kitchens Nora had seen in New York City apartments, the one at Sam Loh’s place had a little window that looked out on a small courtyard. It had always seemed a bit magical to her, that quiet space behind the building in an otherwise relatively typical, anonymous sort of New York neighborhood. The courtyard was walled in by apartment buildings that cast their shadows, one upon the other, and so sunlight only fell through that small window for a brief period each morning. Even so, on the windowsill stood a little plastic hula girl with a bright pink hula skirt, ticking side to side like a metronome, powered by the sun. The opposite of Indigo, really. Yet today, Nora felt more energized by the morning and the sunlight than she had ever felt by the shadows.
She touched the stone that hung from a string around her neck—the ombrikos, once warm but now just smooth and cold and dormant. Nothing but jewelry now, and a dreadful reminder of the malevolent power that could be brought to bear upon the world—the reason she had to remain forever vigilant.
The dusty Keurig on the counter finished trickling Sam’s coffee into a chipped NYChronicle mug, and she added cream, then picked up her own mug and carried them both out into the living room. Unlike her own cramped studio, Sam’s apartment had two closet-size bedrooms, a bathroom with an antique claw-foot tub she’d always figured must be haunted, and a living room that seemed large only because he used the second tiny bedroom as a home office, which meant no desk jammed in with the sofa, chairs, and the little dinette setup where meals were eaten when Sam had company. Any meals he ate when he didn’t have company, she knew, were taken exactly where he was now … sprawled out on the sofa in front of the television set. Nora had made him shut the TV off when she’d arrived this morning, and now he had music playing from his laptop, the elegant, jaunty sort of classical music that he’d tried to interest her in when they’d officially been dating. She’d never tell him, but she’d listened at home more than once. The music had a soothing quality unlike almost anything else, and she needed soothing more than most.
“I’ve never noticed that little hula girl by the window,” she said as she crossed toward him. “Is she new?”
Sam groaned as he shifted to a sitting position on the sofa. He knitted his brows, obviously uncomfortable as hell, but still managed to seem bemused by the question.
“Sort of. I used to have another one there, but with a green skirt. Her battery died, but I like seeing her there. Makes me smile. I ordered another one online. You really can find just about anything for sale.”
Nora frowned. How many other things in her life had she never noticed? How much had she missed?
“Drink your coffee,” she said, settling onto the sofa beside him. She tucked one leg beneath her, close to him, and aware of that closeness. “Doctor’s orders.”
Sam took a sip and sighed. “My name is Sam Loh, and I am a caffeine addict.”
“Welcome, Sam. You’re among friends.”
For a short time they sat like that, with the music and their coffee and a chilly breeze dancing in through the slightly open living-room window, and the bright autumn day outside, the way only real friends did. Sam had always been good company, no matter what Nora’s mood might be.
“All right. Shall we get to work?” he asked.
“All work and no play makes Sam a dull boy.” Nora smiled.
Sam shifted on the sofa and winced. The hospital had sent him home and he’d been eager to go, but he still had healing to do.
“It may be a while before I’m up to playing.”
Nora arched a suggestive eyebrow. “And then?”
Sam sipped his coffee, arching an eyebrow to mirror her own. “Why, then I imagine I’ll get up to some mischief.”
“I’m in favor of mischief.”
“Oh, I’m well aware.”
Nora gave a quiet laugh and took a gulp of her coffee before setting the mug down. “So, are you going to tell me what you learned from the files I brought you from Bogdani’s place?”
Sam grimaced. He looked a bit paler than she liked, and Nora wondered if he’d been taking the painkillers he’d been prescribed. It would be so like Sam to try to tough it out to avoid taking the drugs.
“I’m still pretty tired and it’s hard for me to focus. Y’know, concussion and all. But from what I’ve looked at so far, the information in there is pretty explosive. Captain Mueller intended to blow the whole thing wide-open. If Bogdani were still alive, there’d be an indictment for sure. Federal. Human trafficking is not something the FBI or local authorities can ignore. Once I can focus on all of this, I’ll start quietly looking into how many of the people in these files are even still alive—”
“Not many.” Nora didn’t add that she’d killed some of them herself. Sam knew that, and she didn’t feel like reminding him.
“—and then I’ll bring in some state and federal contacts. Not only is this story going to be big, it’s going to lead to a ton of arrests and save lives.” Sam coughed and winced at the pain it caused him. “Are you … I mean, this story is really yours, Nora. You sure you want to give me all of this?”
She dragged a blanket off the arm of the sofa and draped it over her legs. “You take the parts that you were already investigating. I’ll cover the cult and the core story about the kids they murdered. I owe that to those kids—to Maidali Ortiz and the others. If I’d gotten my memories untangled sooner…”
Averting her eyes from him, she leaned over and picked up her coffee mug again. The open window let in the crisp, refreshing air of fall, and the chill felt cozy and good, but still she wanted the warmth of the coffee and the blanket and being here with Sam. Maybe she didn’t deserve it, but she wanted it nevertheless.
“You did all you could,” Sam said quietly. He nudged her with his elbow so that she would meet his gaze, then he held her with his frown. “Don’t be like that, Nora. You went deeper into darkness than anyone ever has, and you found light there. You’ve done so much good.”
She let the gaze linger a moment longer than was comfortable, even for them, then she looked away.
“Good news about Symes,” she said.
“Yeah? The dash-cam video exonerated him?”
“That and street-surveillance video. The footage clearly shows him being attacked by Angela Mayhew and having to fight back to protect himself and a civilian—”
“Who is you—”
“Who is me, yes. Fortunately anything that looks particularly … shadowy … has been blurred so much you can’t tell what’s going on there.”
Sam raised his coffee mug in a toast. “Here’s to Indigo, then. How’d you pull that off?”
“Just the way it is. There are surveillance cameras all over this city. Indigo never shows up as anything more than a dark blur or a bit of smoke.”