Within minutes, the crew piled back into the canoe and pushed off the dock. Daylight filtered through low-hanging clouds, turning the world just too sharp, just too high in contrast to look real. An ice-cold breeze rippled across the surface of the water and burrowed under Rede’s jacket — unpleasant, but at least it grounded her in reality. She took a breath of the frigid air and willed her mind to settle.

Mara turned them toward the west bank, away from Ducky’s turf. At her call, Rede lifted her paddle and set a brisk pace. The others wouldn’t object; they needed to stay warm and focused just as much as she did. Her eyes watered from the wind; she blinked impatiently, trying to watch the shore.

Good thing she did, too — she looked beneath the water to see a cluster of wooden pylons close enough to knock against their paddles, then looked up just in time to warn Mara about the tip of a drowned buoy tower up ahead that stubbornly protruded an inch or so above the water.

Mara wouldn’t know the area well enough to avoid these obstacles: before the quake, the team had stuck to the industrial areas, far from the ritzy houseboats that used to populate the area and the golf course on the upper east bank. Even now, most people avoided the area. Mara had only chosen to cut through to avoid the jackers. If they wove through these less populated waters, they could avoid the clusters of boats that hung out on the edge of town, hiding themselves in broad daylight until they spotted someone worth going after. Or a group of someones — say, four teenagers and their gun-toting maniac passenger in a canoe.

Gradually, as the crew approached the downtown area, the water grew shallower — five, maybe six feet deep at the most — and signs of life started to appear. The middle and upper floors of half-submerged office buildings had been reclaimed by survivors, hidden but no doubt peeking through the cracks in the perpetually drawn blinds. A faint earthy smell lingered in the air: decomposing plants laced with the acrid tinge of human waste.

After a while, the people started to appear. The sun was out and this place was safe, so most of them were going about their daily business. The crew passed a handful of children washing dishes in the water, ducked under a line of laundry stretching between what was once commercial towers. These people were cleaner than the ones Rede was used to seeing, and healthier; their faces, though gaunt, weren’t dirt-smudged or twisted with the rage that comes with hunger. They looked up and smiled as the crew passed by. A few even waved.

Shay made a small noise.

“You hurt?” Rede asked. If Shay was secretly injured, she’d rather know now.

“No.” Shay shifted her weight. Rede realized belatedly that she’d tucked away her handgun. “I just haven’t been here in a while, is all. I kind of forgot how nice it is.”

Rede couldn’t argue with that.

Mara steered them down a different waterway, through an open area that used to be a park, and toward the squat cement building whose shield emblem peeked stubbornly through layers of dirt. The top of a pair of double doors peeked out above the waterline. Access to the second story, Rede assumed, would have to be through the crudely constructed window frame-turned-single door in the middle of the wall.

Mara pulled up alongside the door. While the crew braced the canoe with their paddles, Shay half-stood and knocked insistently.

They didn’t have to wait long. “State your business,” someone said through an intercom Rede hadn’t previously noticed. She jumped so hard, she almost lost her grip on her paddle.

Luckily, Shay was unfazed. “We’re here to report a missing person,” she said, trying to stand as tall as possible without falling out of the boat.

The voice waited a few seconds before responding. “Anchor your craft next to the door and come inside,” they said. The intercom pinged and went dead.

#

Rede wasn’t sure what to expect when she entered the police station. She hadn’t been inside one either before or after the quake; all she had to go off of were stories from her classmates and Lacey’s sparse descriptions. Before, she’d pictured harsh lighting, cracked tile, walls painted in beige and blue. She definitely did not picture a carpeted open plan office with a humming A/C unit and the smell of coffee lingering in the air. The whole atmosphere reminded her of the bond trading firm where her mom used to work.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

At the thought, a tendril of buried grief fought its way to the surface. Rede’s throat contracted as though gripped by some invisible hand.

The officer behind the intake desk shifted their weight, distracting Rede from her distress. She couldn’t discern the officer’s age or gender, but those weren’t important. What was important was their height, their breadth, and the way they stared down their nose at the newcomers. Massive biceps bunched beneath their uniform sleeves as they beckoned the crew forward.

The paddlers shuffled toward the desk like a pack of schoolchildren.

The officer’s attention went straight to Shay. Their jaw tightened. They stood and scanned her from head to toe, nodding once as their eyes met hers. “Beatty Junior. It’s been a while.”

The others’ heads swiveled toward Shay. She stared straight ahead, one bouncing leg the only sign of her unease. “It’s good to see you, Hollingsworth,” she said evenly.

“You two know each other?” Inna asked, clearly desperate to break the tension.

Hollingsworth’s mouth twitched. “Sure do. We’ve known each other since she was rolling around in diapers.”

Shay looked like she wanted to melt into the ground.

“You must be family friends, then.” Inna mustered a smile. “That’s really nice.”

Rede’s eyes fell onto the outline of the gun in Shay’s waistband. Military-grade waterproofing, she’d said. And Ronan had told her to check the scanner.

How the hell had she not figured it out sooner?

“We don’t have time for pleasantries,” Mara butted in. “Our friend is missing.”

Hollingsworth gave a wooden smile. “Right. Of course.” They reached into a drawer and rifled through a stack of forms. It seemed to take forever for them to find the right one. They licked their finger, withdrew the form, and uncapped a pen.

“How long is this going to take?” Mara asked.

“That depends on you,” Hollingsworth said pointedly, without looking up.

Mara’s lips thinned.

“First off, I need the name of who’s filing the complaint,” Hollingsworth continued.

“Mara Caruso.”

“And the name of the missing person?”

“Miriam Zhou.” Mara stepped toward the desk. Shay’s eyes widened in alarm. “She goes by Mimi. The man who took her goes by Ducky. He’s a broker on the East bank, which I hope you already know. He’s after us because your little friend dragged us into her mess, and, frankly, I don’t have the time or the patience to wait around for your bureaucracy. Just call up whoever you need to call, get yourselves in a boat, and let’s go get her back!”

Rede resisted the urge to flinch. The wild edge in Mara’s eyes, the slight hoarseness of her voice — it wasn’t like her to come undone like this. Rede’s body already hummed with nerves from her revelation; now, trying to keep herself calm in the face of Mara’s agitation, she worried she’d come apart at the seams.

Hollingsworth looked up at Mara with hooded eyes. “I understand you’re upset,” they said, carefully enunciating each word, “but there is a process we have to follow. As you already know from your dealings with Beatty, not following protocol leads to…complications.”

“Better than leading to nowhere,” Shay snapped.

“Following the rules doesn’t lead to nowhere. It just takes longer.” Hollingsworth punctuated their words by tapping their pen on the desk. “Look, Beatty, we both know he should’ve listened to the sheriff instead of going off on his own.”

One by one, Rede watched the realization hit the rest of the team.

“Drew was a cop,” Inna said numbly.

Genuine surprise flashed across Hollingsworth’s face. “You didn’t tell them?”

“I didn’t want to be associated with you,” Shay replied, tone stiff as a board.

Without warning, Rede’s pulse slowed. She looked at the girl next to her — shoulders bunched, lips trembling — and her nerves coalesced into a solid thing that settled in her chest. She knew how it felt to

Without thinking, she reached out and grasped Shay’s arm. “Shay’s helped us so far,” she said, ignoring Thanh’s incredulous snort. “She said you guys could help us find Mimi. Can you really do what she told us you can, or not?”

Hollingsworth stared her down. Rede tried not to avert her eyes. From the way the officer was looking at her, it was clear they’d understood her message loud and clear. It was up to them whether or not to prove Shay right.

“All right.” Hollingsworth placed the pen on the desk and stood. Rede hadn’t expected them to be as tall as they were; she tried not to let her intimidation show. “I’ll talk with the squad. You all can wait in the back.”

There was no time to argue amongst themselves: the crew followed Hollingsworth between two rows of cubicles and into what looked uncomfortably like an interrogation room.

It wasn’t until the door closed behind them that Rede realized she was still holding onto Shay’s arm. She let it go with a murmured apology.

Shay turned to her, eyes wide and shining. “Don’t be sorry,” she said. She offered a tiny smile.

Something in Shay’s face seemed painfully familiar. Without knowing why, Rede smiled back.