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Eliana shrugged out of her jacket and hung it on the coatrack. She switched on the radio. Threw out the coffee bag. Stuck the GONE ON VACATION sign into her desk. Put the files away.
As good as new, for the rest of the uncertain winter. Of course, she needed clients. That had been the other reason for coming back, to save more money to expedite the visa process. She knew how Hope City worked. You could get pretty much anything if you paid someone enough.
Eliana pulled out a notepad and wrote an advertisement to put in the classified section of the Hope City Daily. Suspicious about your husband’s fidelity? Worried about an employee’s honesty? I can help. Private investigator, fully licensed. It was hokey, but that’s all she wanted from her work right now, to tail some cheating husband around to all the different motels in the city. After a moment’s thought, she added, Very discreet.
Writing that out reminded her of Marianella, the way she had stood by as Diego was attacked by a maintenance drone. She hadn’t even tried to help him.
Eliana pulled out her typewriter and typed up the advertisement. Then she stuck it into an envelope along with the fifty cents it cost to place an ad in the newspaper, made out the address, added a stamp, and set the envelope on the corner of her desk for the mailman.
The whole thing took fifteen minutes.
“Oh, hell,” Eliana muttered. No one was going to come by her office, and she didn’t know if she could sit in here much longer, breathing in the thick musty air. Maybe she should open a window. She didn’t. Instead, she put her coat back on and slapped a sign on the door that said WILL RETURN IN FIVE MINUTES and walked down to the mailbox at the end of the block.
It was nice to be out, nice to be moving—inasmuch as anything could be nice to Eliana these days. Quite a few people crowded along the streets, jostling one another, but Eliana knew that her grief set her apart. It was a knife that could slice through all the bustle of humanity, clearing a path for her. She was tainted.
The same could be said for her knowledge about Sofia’s plans, that slow-growing crack in the glass of the dome. Her knowledge, and her willingness to believe it.
She dropped the letter into the mailbox and stood for a moment, trying to decide if she should go back to her office. But if she didn’t, then what? She’d just wander back to her apartment, curl up on the sofa, listen to records, try not to think about Marianella or Diego or the city crashing down around her. She would fix her lunch knowing that her food had been distributed to the grocery store by fucking Sofia.
The office was better.
Eliana took her time walking back. The bustle distracted her. And when she came up the stairs, she found a man waiting outside her door. He wore a gray suit, a gray fedora, and he had golden eyes. She recognized him immediately.
Juan Gonzalez.
“I need to speak with you.” Then, lightly, “How was your holiday?”
Eliana took a deep breath. “It was fine. Thank you.”
“The files you gave me were most excellent,” he said, slipping off his hat. “And I’d love anything else you could bring me along those lines.”
Eliana studied him closely, wondering if he knew they were fake. His face was so impassive, she couldn’t tell. His appearance here made her skin crawl.
“I’m sorry. I just don’t know how to get anything else,” she said. She unlocked the office door. She’d rather not have this conversation out in the hallway.
They went in, bell jangling. Mr. Gonzalez draped his coat and hat over the coatrack, as always. Eliana tossed her own coat over the back of her chair.
“Look,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t know what you expect me to do. I can’t exactly stake her out. I step foot into the amusement park, she knows I’m there, and it’s not like she ever leaves.”
Mr. Gonzalez’s mouth turned up in a coy smile. “Ah, and that’s where you’re wrong, Miss Gomez. Our Sofia has come into some good fortune this last week, and I believe you’d have some luck lurking around a particular bar near the docks.”
Eliana went rigid. She wondered if Mr. Gonzalez knew about Sofia’s plans, if that was why he’d had Eliana investigating her all along. Well, she wasn’t going up against Sofia. She was just going to get out before the city went to hell.
“The Florencia, I believe it’s called?” He smiled again, more genuinely this time.
“I know it.” The words were thick in Eliana’s throat. “But the Florencia is Ignacio Cabrera’s place. I don’t know why you—”
“Ah. Not anymore.” Mr. Gonzalez settled back in his chair and crossed his legs. “That was the good fortune I spoke of. She seems to have taken over Mr. Cabrera’s criminal dealings.”
He was telling Eliana all this like he didn’t expect her to know. She let out a deep breath. She tried not to think about the last time she’d been to the Florencia, but it was no use. Her heart started to beat more quickly. Sweat prickled over her palms.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not interested.”
Mr. Gonzalez stared at her. His eerie light eyes bored into her thoughts.
“I don’t want to mess with gangsters,” she said. “Doesn’t matter if it’s a man or an andie. Too dangerous. Come back when you think your wife’s cheating.”
“I refuse to believe there’s so much infidelity in this city to allow that sort of thing to be your primary source of income.”
“It is. Now, please leave.” Her body trembled, and she gripped the arm of her chair, trying to steady herself. She kept seeing Diego’s back, his skin ruptured, blood pooling around him. He didn’t even get a funeral, and she never got to watch the flames dance and the smoke and ash drift up through the narrow tube leading to the open air outside the dome. His soul, released to God. She didn’t get to see any of it, because Sofia had burned the bodies all together, at an abandoned factory on the edge of the dome. A sacrilege. Sometimes Eliana wondered what Marianella thought about it.
Eliana didn’t care about sacrilege herself. She only cared that she never got to say good-bye to Diego. Not properly.
Mr. Gonzalez was still watching her. “Are you sure you’re not interested?”
“Yes, I’m sure!” she snapped. “How many times do I have to tell you?” Darkness moved over his features. She fumbled around for an excuse. “A friend of mine got hurt investigating a Cabrera case, and an andie’s a damn sight more terrifying than a human. So no, I don’t want to get involved.”
For a moment she was afraid he wouldn’t leave, that he had been stringing her along all this time, that he worked for Cabrera, or he worked for the city, or he was here to take revenge for what Sofia had done. She expected him to pull out a gun and point it at her chest. But he only straightened his tie and said, “Forgive me, Miss Gomez. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Eliana’s trembling subsided. She slumped back in her chair and watched as he pulled on his coat and hat in smooth, easy movements. She wanted him out of her office. She wanted to forget everything that had happened these last few months—no, everything that had happened this last year. She wanted to go back to a time before she’d ever even met Diego.
Mr. Gonzalez put his hand on the doorknob. Then he looked over his shoulder at her, his golden eyes unsettling.
“I really would appreciate your help on this, Miss Gomez,” he said. “Sofia could bring a great deal of harm upon our city, if we let her.”
If we let her, Eliana thought. It wasn’t a matter of letting her. It was going to happen.
“You’ll have to find someone else,” Eliana said.
Mr. Gonzalez smiled. “Yes, I suppose I will.”
And then he left.
* * * *
Eliana almost didn’t bother returning to her office after lunch. No one other than Mr. Gonzalez had called or come by all morning, and it was dull sitting behind her desk, listening to the radio and reading over old case files to see if there were any former clients she could rope into a follow-up.