Night Film

76

We spent the next few hours cleaning up my office, while a locksmith replaced the bolt on the front door. Everything about Ashley and Cordova had been taken, with a few exceptions — my old Crowthorpe Falls notes, Iona’s Bachelor Party Entertainment business card. We found these items under the couch, which suggested that my study had been trashed first, then scoured for information on the Cordovas.

In another stroke of luck, they’d left behind Ashley’s coat — we found it still crammed into the Whole Foods bag behind the door, probably assumed to be garbage. We also found Sharon Falcone’s police file. Two days ago, Nora had taken it upstairs to review before bed. It was still on her bedside table — a sign the intruders had never made it upstairs.

I kept thinking about Olivia Endicott. It was certainly convenient that while we were uptown listening to her, the intruders had unmitigated access to my apartment. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d misread her. Had she been in on the whole thing from the start and tipped them off to the appointment? Why? What motivation did Olivia have to protect Cordova?

There was also an unsettling symmetry to what had happened. We were following Ashley’s footsteps; Theo Cordova had followed ours. Hopper broke into their home last night; today, they broke into mine. Searching for the man on the pier, I’d only encountered myself, my business card. Were they genuinely threatened by what we were doing? Or were they treating it as a game, mirroring our actions, boomeranging them back onto us, one violation of the Cordovas’ privacy resulting in one of mine, one invasion for another?

I didn’t know what any of it meant, but at least one thing Olivia had said seemed about right: The space around Cordova distorts … the speed of light slackens, information gets scrambled, rational minds grow illogical, hysterical.

I went upstairs and took a shower, gave Hopper some towels so he could, too. I was planning to order some Chinese food and then quiz him about the townhouse — he’d briefly mentioned he hadn’t seen very much before he was caught. I left Nora monitoring Septimus and retreated to my bedroom to clean out the old safe in my closet. I hadn’t used it in years, but going forward, all notes and evidence would have to be locked inside.

I was clearing out some old redacted files when there was a knock behind me.

Nora was in the doorway, her face ashen.

“What’s the matter? Is it Septimus?”

She shook her head, beckoning me to follow her.

She’d put on deafening music in the living room, the volume turned up so loud it drowned out our footsteps. She crept to the very end of the hallway, pointing at the bathroom door — open just a crack.

Hopper was inside, the faucet running. I wasn’t in the habit of spying on men in bathrooms, but she animatedly gestured that I take a look.

I leaned forward. Hopper was at the sink, brushing his teeth, a towel around his waist.

And then I saw it.