By noon, I was lost in the side streets of Brooklyn. I'd given my Uber driver the address, but construction blockades made it impossible for the car to reach the house. So I jumped out two blocks away, figuring I could make it the rest of the way on foot. I was looking for 11210. But the numbers jumped from 11200 to 11300. No 11210.

I swear I spent an entire hour going up and down that street. Then another hour going up and down side streets. I had a pounding headache. I needed coffee.

I'd never been to Brooklyn before. It felt a little like San Francisco's Mission Street. An eclectic mix of row houses and apartments peppered with mom-and-pop shops, nail salons, and delis. At the end of the block, I spotted a coffee shop and headed for it. Then I saw something even better across the street: Dunkin' Donuts. Coffee and sugar.

It was cramped inside. I ordered and sat down at a table near the window. I stared out at the street as I waited for my coffee to cool down.

"Luna Valencia." The man's voice was deep and guttural. "I'm with the police. We need to talk."

I smiled.

"I never realized before. You weren't a cop when you said that the first time. Isn't that a crime?"

"What brings you to this neck of the woods? It's been a while," he said.

"Almost a year."

"No shit. How'd you find me?"

"I've been doing this a long time," I said with a smile. "You left without saying goodbye."

"I'm no good at goodbyes," he said.

Alex sat down with some effort. He was using a cane now and looked a lot older than I remembered. I could make out a purple bruise on his cheek. He asked again how I had found him. I told him about my expedition to the New York City Police Department headquarters. At first, they'd been reluctant to give me his address, but I was persistent.

"I never got the chance to thank you properly," I said. I slid my uneaten donut—strawberry frosted with sprinkles—toward him.

"Isn't that a little cliché?" he said, looking at the donut.

I shrugged. He picked it up.

"Hey, so there was something else, too," I said. He raised an eyebrow, already a bite into the donut. "You remember that day in the shipyard?"

He nodded slowly.

"You yelled something right before rushing Doug. Do you remember that?"

"No."

"You said you were doing it for Simon."

Alex stopped chewing. Then he swallowed.

"I did?"

I nodded.

"I'm thirsty," he said. He began to haul himself up out of the chair, but I motioned for him to stay put.

"I'll get it. What do you want? Coffee?"

He finished getting up.

"No, I'm going to need something stronger than coffee."

He led me to a small bar across the street. There was only one other person in the place, hunched over at the far end of the bar. We took the first stools we found. He ordered a whiskey. I slid some cash across the bar.

"Drink with me," he said.

"Too early in the day for me."

"Then thanks for coming," he said. "And thanks for the donut."

"So," I said. "Who's Simon?"

He shook his head and said nothing.

"I flew across the country to find you. I never understood why you spent so much time helping me. It bothered me. You had no skin in the game. Ancien wasn't your company. You didn't know me. I wasn't your problem. So, why did you risk your life? What was in it for you? Who is Simon?"

"I thought you were here to say thanks. You're welcome. Let's leave it at that. Goodbye."

"I thought you weren't good at goodbyes."

"You're making it easy." He sighed but didn't move to get up. "Another whiskey, please," he said. "And one for my friend."

"I'm good," I said, shaking my head.

The bartender poured two drinks anyway. I hated whiskey.

"To Simon," he said.

I picked up my glass.

"To Simon," I repeated.

We threw our drinks back. Alex asked for another round. I shook my head vigorously, unable to speak yet.

"I'll make you a deal. I'll talk as long as you drink."

I downed the second glass as quickly as I could manage. I rarely drank and I hadn't eaten much that day. One shot was enough to make me tipsy, even on a full stomach. Two made me drunk. And I'd given Alex my snack.

"Another," Alex demanded. The waiter cracked a smile.

The world was spinning. I breathed slowly and deliberately.

"Was," he said.

I wasn't sure I'd heard properly.

"Huh?"

"Who was Simon," he said. "Not who is Simon."

I nodded gently. And not just because I finally understood his meaning.

He said nothing for quite some time. I didn't know how much longer I could keep my drinks down, so finally I broke down and asked.

"Who was Simon?"

"The sweetest boy that ever lived. He was my son."

Alex sat with his head between his hands. Instinctively, I started rubbing his back.

"I'm sorry, Alex."

He didn't speak. We sat at the bar for a while longer. Finally he said, "It was locked. I always locked it."

I stopped rubbing his back. I was about to say something, when he started up again.

"I was a goddamn police officer. Thirty years. I would get home, kiss my wife, hang up my keys, lock my gun, grab a beer. Always in that order. I was like clockwork. I never forgot. Never."

After a respectful moment, as gently as I could, I asked what happened.

"I swear to God, I had just installed a new gun safe. I mean, it wasn't new-new. I got it off a buddy. Supposed to be smart, or something like that. Had a modem. I had to plug it into a phone socket. Had its own phone number. Was supposed to call me if someone tampered with it."

After this, Alex took a long break in the story. I thought he was going to order another round of whiskey, and I prayed that he wouldn't.

"If I told him once, I told him a million times. Simon, don't go near Daddy's gun. I can remember the day perfectly. Hung up my keys. Kissed my wife. Locked my gun."

He gave me a confused look.

"No. I kissed Chelsea, hung up my keys, locked the gun. I swear to God I locked it. I turned the damn dial. It was a new safe. I didn't trust it. I turned it. Well. You can guess the rest. Wife left me. They fired me. Said I hadn't protected my sidearm. It's a big deal to us, you know. But I know I locked the safe."

Alex mumbled for a while and put his head back in his hands. I rubbed his back again.

"So. When Titus Andronicus—"

"Taye?"

"Yeah, whatever. When the kid said there was a computer virus causing deaths, I thought."

Alex trailed off into murmurs. Or I was drunk and couldn't make out what he was saying. Hard to tell the difference.

"You think Gaia opened your safe?"

Alex buried his head deeper into hands.

"Bartender. Another round."

"Alex, it's been great seeing you, but I can't do it."

"Great. More for me," he said.

I leaned up against him and gave him a hug. He smiled.

"You didn't come here just for an old man's story, did you?"

"Yes," I lied.

"To Simon," he said, and he downed another whiskey.