Maybeshe’snot ready for what these pages will reveal either.
They’ve navigated the tight, grimy corridor and reached a door, once painted white, that’s secured with a dead bolt. Eureka roots in her tote, pulls out a bundle of fabric. “Hold my bag while I put this on?”
“Sure.” Nomi manhandles the tote and the envelope. “Thanks for getting me out.”
“Can’t leave you behind for the Keystone Kops, amirite?” Eureka winks, straightens her arms through the sleeves of a lightweight denim coat. She ties the belt, takes back her bag. “Nomi, you did your time in the Tenth Precinct—you don’t need to be dealing with those guys now you’re free. Okay, here we go.”
She flips the dead bolt, pulls hard to encourage the damp-warped wood to yank out of its frame, and suddenly they’re at the top of a short staircase that leads to the back alley between the Riverview and Horatio Street. It’s briskly cold, after their sweaty escape; they’ve walked back into the night. At ground level, there’s the smell of garbage and standing water, and a metallic scent like old radiators. In the distance, Nomi hears the whoop of a siren.
She shakes her head. “Why do they keep up these busts? Captain McKee from the Sixth must know it’s a waste of time.”
Eureka shrugs. “Mayor Koch said clean up the gays, so McKee’s gotta show he’s ticking the boxes, right?”
“Crazy.”
“It is what it is. And Nomi, look, I know Irma misses you, but I’m glad you’re on our side now. It feels like you’ve made a place here in the Village. Word on the street is that you’re helping one of the working girls get her kid back—no, don’t ask me how I know, I just do. But it’s a good thing, honey. You’re doing good work. I don’t know if you hear that much, but it’s true.”
“Thank you for saying that. I mean, I try.” Nomi hardly knows how to respond when, half the time, she feels like an ineffectual fraud. But if she can reunite Brittany and Solange, at least that’ll count for something. She shoves that worry aside, holds up the envelope. “Are you sure Irma didn’t give you anything else with this?”
“That was it. Hey, I’m gonna circle around and see if I can find Destiny and Skye and Georgina. Will you be okay to walk home by yourself from here?”
“Of course.” Nomi shoos with her free hand. “Get outta here. Go find your girls. Sorry the movie night got ruined.”
“Who said it’s ruined?” Eureka grins, swoops in for an air-kiss. “Bye, baby girl. See you next time.”
Eureka walks off toward Washington, kitten heels clicking on the cobblestones. Nomi looks around; they came out on the West Street side. She could walk back to Florent, get a coffee, read the file there. She could find Noone. They could read it together.
But she wants to know what the file contains. If it’s bad, she wants to be prepared so she can manage Noone’s reaction.
She heads for West Street, then turns left and walks as quickly as she can, crossing Jane Street and skirting the parking lot chain-link fence as she moves toward West Twelfth. The commotion outside the main entrance of the Riverview has attracted a small crowd; some of the taxi drivers and hookers from the highway have even wandered over. Nomi is walking in the other direction, and she makes it past the Superior Ink building, turns left again, finally reaches her destination: the bagel shop on Bethune Street.
It’s nearly ten thirty, but the store never seems to close, and it’s warm inside. Her nose is running a little from the cold. She orders a bagel and coffee, claims one of the tiny tables, uses a paper napkin from the dispenser on her nose.
Then she looks at the brown envelope on the table in front of her. Her mouth has flooded with an acidic taste, just like the moment before she unzips her yellow kit bag and reaches for her tools. She rubs her tongue over her teeth.
Okay, time to do this.
Nomi opens the flap and takes out the contents: a gray document wallet of a kind she’s seen on law enforcement desks a million times. There’s a yellow sticky note affixed to the front of the flimsy cardboard,the writing in Irma’s curly cursive: “Scene contamination for sure! Where did you get these prints?? Crazy.”
Oh shit, that’s not good.
Nomi almost jumps when the server delivers her bagel and coffee. She somehow manages to both thank the guy and not bump the table and spill everything. Once the server’s gone, she looks down at the gray wallet again. Her breathing has heightened. Her fingers feel cold.
She shakes them out, exhales. Opens up the wallet and removes the pages inside.
There are three pages. Prominently, on the uppermost page, pictures of Simon Noone’s face from the front and in profile. He looks younger in the mug shots, his full lips tender, fringe flopping over one eye. And that’s the first thing she learns—that he used to have white-blond hair.
The second thing she learns is that his name isn’t Simon Noone.
Chapter Nineteen
October 1987, Friday
It’s not until after his work shift ends—nearly midday on Friday—that Simon realizes Nomi is avoiding him.
After he and Cherie shared coffee and cigarettes in her cramped apartment, waiting out the police, he spent literally hours last night trying to find Nomi: walking home, knocking at her apartment, checking at Florent, returning to the Riverview to try again there ... He even walked up to Hector’s to see if she was at the counter. But she was nowhere. It was maddening.
Nomi had his file. The answers were right there, in her hands. Not to mention that he was worried about her: Cherie reassured him that Eureka/Enrique was not a wuss and would do a good job as substitute protection detail, but Simon still felt a responsibility.
