down here?”
“Far as I know. That’s what her paralegal said, too.”
“Mind another question?”
I shook my head.
“You think you’re gonna get your … this Simington off the row?”
I appreciated him not referring to him as my father, but it didn’t change anything.
“No. I think Darcy thought she could, though.”
“Doubtful,” he said, shaking his head. “Just doesn’t happen. So I’m glad you don’t have any wild ideas.” He looked at me. “And I hope that means you’ll stay out of the way.”
“She’s in my house, Klimes.”
“We’ll get her out,” he said, grinning. “I promise. But after that, I hope you’ll let us do what we are paid so shittily to do.” I laughed. “I’ll try.”
“Good,” he said, then waved me out of the car. “Zanella’s gonna be here any second. Scoot.”
I got out and shut the door.
The window slid down, and Klimes leaned over, his rotund face looking up at me. “You owe me.” “How do you figure?”
He held up three fingers. “I let you use the computer, I gave you the ‘she didn’t struggle’ info, and I flattened you before Zanella could take your head off.”
“Woulda been hard for him to take my head off while he was sitting on his ass.”
He waggled a thick finger in front of me. “Whatever, son. You owe me. That Keene name rings a bell, I expect you to ring mine.”
Klimes was sharp. He hadn’t taken my bluff. I liked him. I didn’t want to lie to him.
“Deal,” I said, doing it anyway.
EIGHTEEN
The lights on the Coronado Bridge shone brightly in the early evening. The long gone sun had forgotten to take the heat of the day with it, and the wind blowing in my window as I crossed over to the island felt like an industrial-strength hair dryer.
Liz’s house was perched on a nice little curve of street that fronted San Diego Bay. She was on the rooftop deck when I pulled up, and she waved me in the front door.
She was sitting in a beach chair, facing the lit-up buildings across the water. Her long, tan legs were stretched out in front of her, and she wore an old Chargers T-shirt and blue running shorts. She motioned with her beer to the small fridge on the corner of the deck.
“I splurged for you,” she said.
I opened the fridge and found a bunch of Red Trolley bottles. I grabbed one and sat down in the empty chair next to her. “Thanks.”
We sat in the dark for a while, drinking but not talking.
When it came to our relationship, Liz being a cop had a lot of drawbacks. But one of the things I appreciated most was that she understood silence was a necessary thing. It didn’t mean anything was wrong or one of us was mad. It was just a way to decompress. Most people didn’t understand that.
“Was it odd?” she asked as I grabbed us a couple of new beers.
I knew she was talking about Simington.
“Yes and no,” I said. “In a lot of ways, it was like going to see someone I didn’t know. Someone who wanted to hire me or something. Detached.”
She nodded.
“But it was strange that he looked so much like me,” I said, shaking my head. “Some people think Carolina and I look alike. But this was like looking down the road thirty years.”
“Except you won’t be in jail,” she said.
I didn’t say anything and took a drink.
“You know that, right?” she asked, glancing over at me.
I kept drinking.
“Don’t confuse what he looks like with what he is, Noah. You’re not him.”
I’d said as much to Simington through the window, but that had been more of a defense mechanism than true belief. It was hard for me to separate the two.
“I’ve killed people,” I said.
She pulled her legs in and sat up in the chair. “You think that makes you like him?”
“I think it means we share some of the same … abilities.”
“No one has ever hired you to kill anyone. And if they tried, you wouldn’t do it.”
I shrugged, watching the lights bounce off the water.
“You were on the
right
side when
“Far as I know. That’s what her paralegal said, too.”
“Mind another question?”
I shook my head.
“You think you’re gonna get your … this Simington off the row?”
I appreciated him not referring to him as my father, but it didn’t change anything.
“No. I think Darcy thought she could, though.”
“Doubtful,” he said, shaking his head. “Just doesn’t happen. So I’m glad you don’t have any wild ideas.” He looked at me. “And I hope that means you’ll stay out of the way.”
“She’s in my house, Klimes.”
“We’ll get her out,” he said, grinning. “I promise. But after that, I hope you’ll let us do what we are paid so shittily to do.” I laughed. “I’ll try.”
“Good,” he said, then waved me out of the car. “Zanella’s gonna be here any second. Scoot.”
I got out and shut the door.
The window slid down, and Klimes leaned over, his rotund face looking up at me. “You owe me.” “How do you figure?”
He held up three fingers. “I let you use the computer, I gave you the ‘she didn’t struggle’ info, and I flattened you before Zanella could take your head off.”
“Woulda been hard for him to take my head off while he was sitting on his ass.”
He waggled a thick finger in front of me. “Whatever, son. You owe me. That Keene name rings a bell, I expect you to ring mine.”
Klimes was sharp. He hadn’t taken my bluff. I liked him. I didn’t want to lie to him.
“Deal,” I said, doing it anyway.
EIGHTEEN
The lights on the Coronado Bridge shone brightly in the early evening. The long gone sun had forgotten to take the heat of the day with it, and the wind blowing in my window as I crossed over to the island felt like an industrial-strength hair dryer.
Liz’s house was perched on a nice little curve of street that fronted San Diego Bay. She was on the rooftop deck when I pulled up, and she waved me in the front door.
She was sitting in a beach chair, facing the lit-up buildings across the water. Her long, tan legs were stretched out in front of her, and she wore an old Chargers T-shirt and blue running shorts. She motioned with her beer to the small fridge on the corner of the deck.
“I splurged for you,” she said.
I opened the fridge and found a bunch of Red Trolley bottles. I grabbed one and sat down in the empty chair next to her. “Thanks.”
We sat in the dark for a while, drinking but not talking.
When it came to our relationship, Liz being a cop had a lot of drawbacks. But one of the things I appreciated most was that she understood silence was a necessary thing. It didn’t mean anything was wrong or one of us was mad. It was just a way to decompress. Most people didn’t understand that.
“Was it odd?” she asked as I grabbed us a couple of new beers.
I knew she was talking about Simington.
“Yes and no,” I said. “In a lot of ways, it was like going to see someone I didn’t know. Someone who wanted to hire me or something. Detached.”
She nodded.
“But it was strange that he looked so much like me,” I said, shaking my head. “Some people think Carolina and I look alike. But this was like looking down the road thirty years.”
“Except you won’t be in jail,” she said.
I didn’t say anything and took a drink.
“You know that, right?” she asked, glancing over at me.
I kept drinking.
“Don’t confuse what he looks like with what he is, Noah. You’re not him.”
I’d said as much to Simington through the window, but that had been more of a defense mechanism than true belief. It was hard for me to separate the two.
“I’ve killed people,” I said.
She pulled her legs in and sat up in the chair. “You think that makes you like him?”
“I think it means we share some of the same … abilities.”
“No one has ever hired you to kill anyone. And if they tried, you wouldn’t do it.”
I shrugged, watching the lights bounce off the water.
“You were on the
right
side when
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