The Secret Songs of D.C. Silverenn

| 32

I suspect Emi secretly expected that I'd end up going to the police station one day. But I'm sure she always thought it'd be because I was too broke to pay for my rent, not because we finished a decades-old treasure hunt. The title "treasure hunt" might be generous, though, considering that we never actually got anything in the end. At best, we got a HIIT workout from too many near-death experiences. Isn't that what a HIIT workout is — doing exercises that make your heart race in between periods of rest?

Every time I think about it, my spirits sink a little lower. Three days after the treasure hunt, we're still broke. I'm still broke. Emi was right. This was a complete waste of time, time that I could've spent looking for a job or practicing my viola, which I would still have if it hadn't been stolen as collateral damage. The police didn't recover any stolen instruments when they apprehended the mobsters and searched their car.

Going into this, I knew there was a chance we wouldn't get anything. But now, I realize just how foolish I was. It was a risk, but I thought I had nothing to lose. How wrong I was. In this gamble, I lost everything and gained nothing. If the pendulum of luck had swung a little further from us, we could've lost our lives, too.

That might be the reason why Emi and I more than willingly agreed to drive to the police station. For one thing, we're both still too scared to sleep in our apartments, so there aren't many options of places to go during the day. My hopes have shrunk to almost nothing when it comes to getting the alleged treasure, but something inside me thinks there's still a chance that our efforts won't be in vain.

No. That's just wishful thinking. That's the logical part of my brain trying to justify all this time wasted with no payout.

Emi strides ahead of me, past the few police cars parked outside the station. Automatic doors slide open for her, not wanting to block her mission to the lobby. She's barely spoken to me since the cave. She doesn't need to. Anger, maybe a hint of betrayal as well, radiates off her, more intense than any time she's practiced the Mahler Five violin part.

I catch up to her inside, standing beside her as she speaks with the desk sergeant.

"Officer Robles will speak with you shortly. Please take a seat."

I take a seat on one of the stiff chairs. The upholstery is made of a green tweed that scratches the back of my thighs, exposed by the cut-off shorts I'm wearing. Sadness rushes through me thinking of houndstooth pants I just bought. I'm going to sell them now, though it probably won't cover the debt I incurred in buying them. I scoot to the seat's edge so it no longer touches my bare skin, taking a straight-spined orchestral posture.

Emi stands across the room, flicking her finger across her phone screen. Whether she's reading emails or playing subway surfers, we'll never know. I'd bet money on the former.

A door opens several minutes later. The dark-haired female officer from the cave stands behind it, a file in her hand.

"Cerise Lenoir and Emi Sung?"

We follow her to an open room lined with empty cubicles. I can't imagine how confining it'd feel if they were all occupied.

"Take a seat." The officer motions to two wooden chairs pulled up beside one station. She does the same in a large rolling chair. I return to my rigid posture, and I notice Emi sits the same way. Old habits stay habits.

"Thank you so much for helping in this matter," Emi says. "We, er, I really appreciate it."

"All in a line of duty." Officer Robles doesn't spare a glance our way as her fingers fly over the computer keys. The rapid tapping reaches a ceasefire after a few seconds, and she peers at us over a thin pair of rectangular glasses. "Actually, we'd like to thank you. If it weren't for your treasure hunt, we wouldn't have uncovered an organized crime operation spanning the past few decades in Dewhurst." She looks up from her computer screen. "Looks like you were right when you came and reported the break in and shooting outside your apartment."