Free Silent City by Alex Segura Page B

could drive home, he thought. He snapped to attention as Emily quickly stood up.
    “Shit, I have to go,” she said, putting her cell phone back into her purse. She leaned in and gave Pete a quick peck on the cheek and an automated hug. “Rick isn’t a big fan of me being out late and he’s home with the dogs.”
    Pete wondered how married life was treating her. He wondered how married life would have treated them.
    “Come on, you can’t do one more? Rick’ll watch the dogs,” Mike said.
    Emily ignored the belligerent Mike and stood by Pete, still seated in his stool. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Be careful, OK? This whole situation sounds odd.”
    Pete’s heart jumped at her concern. He fought an urge to grab her hand. “I’ll be fine, but thanks.”
    “OK,” she said, her hand lingering on Pete’s shoulder. She was a little drunk, too, Pete realized. Her hands felt familiar still. Her eyes focused on his for a second and she snapped her fingers, shattering whatever drunken connection Pete felt. “Shit, you know who you should talk to? Do you know Amy Matheson?”
    “The news editor? She handles cops, no?” Pete responded.
    “Yeah, her,” Emily said. “She’s Kathy’s best friend—well, her only friend at work. They talk all the time. If Kathy’s not talking to her, then something is shady.”
    “Yeah, definitely,” Pete said. “I’ll check with her tomorrow when I get in.” He felt himself leaning in to Emily more than he normally would. He was drunk. She was drunk. She looked at him.
    “Stephanie says she saw you a few nights ago,” Emily said, letting the statement hang out without any context.
    Pete cleared his throat. “Yeah, we chatted for a bit,” he said, refusing to fully engage. “She seemed OK.”
    “That’s good,” Emily said, her eyes meeting Pete’s. In the past, she would have pressed the issue—asked why he’d been so wasted, why he’d embarrassed himself in front of someone they both knew. She didn’t do that anymore. They were quiet for a few moments before she spoke again. “How’s your new place?” Emily asked. The question came out of left field and didn’t at the same time.
    “That was random,” Mike commented. Emily didn’t turn to respond.
    “Uh, it’s fine,” Pete said. “Not really that new anymore.” He stopped himself. He could have continued—noted how long it’d been since she’d left in that cab. He could mention the piles of unreturned e-mails, phone calls, and letters that further confirmed for him that Emily wanted nothing to do with him. That it was over.
    “Yeah, sorry,” Emily said.
    Pete could see pity in her eyes, and that made him feel worse. He moved back slightly. She moved her hand from his shoulder. An awkward silence lingered. He thought it’d gone so well, but now his mind was spinning. He hated to think about her like this. He hated how his heart—in a second—could show him that nothing had changed. He coughed quickly and offered up a humorless smile to Emily.
    “OK, I really have to go.” She kissed him quickly on the cheek again before turning to Mike and shoving him. “You idiots get home safe. Have some water before you leave.”
    Mike giggled. Pete laughed in response. He was rarely more sober than Mike. Jimmy hovered over them, looking a little worn out after a long night of serving underage college students and depressed thirtysomethings.
    “Hey guys, last call,” he said, wiping around their respective glasses. “Can I get you something else?”
    Pete started, then turned to look at Mike, whose eyelids were at half shut as he leaned on the bar. He looked at Jimmy and shrugged.
    “I think we’re good for the night.”
    • • •
    Pete fumbled with Mike’s keys as he tried to open Mike’s apartment door. Mike, relatively useless, was leaning on the opposite wall. Pete smiled. He considered how bad Mike—and he—would be had they let themselves do a few more rounds at the Pub. It was dangerous