stared over Liz at the window. The moon was obscured by a thick rain cloud.
“Simington was definite about not getting another attorney?” Liz asked.
“Yep.”
She put her hand on my cheek and moved my face down so I could see her.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
I nodded without saying anything. I tried to look away, but she held my face in place.
“I’m sorry that you’re having to deal with all of this,” she said, the intensity in her eyes clear even in the dark. “But it doesn’t change who you are.”
“I know that, Liz,” I said. “I do. I’m past that.”
“So where are you, then?”
I traced her spine with my fingers. “Trying to figure out what to do next. If anything.”
She shivered against me. “If anything?”
“Why am I doing this?” I said. “Simington’s going to die no matter what I do. Darcy’s dead, and I’m not going to change that. Keene deserves to go to jail—or worse—but I’m not sure it’s my place to see that that happens. If digging any more into what happened puts Carolina or me in jeopardy, I don’t see the justification. So why not just let it go?”
“Do you feel responsible for Darcy?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I said. “I really don’t. She came to me. She had to know what she was getting in the middle of. I’m not saying that makes what happened to her any less wrong, but I don’t feel like it was on my watch.”
“I talked to Klimes this morning,” she said. “They still don’t really have anything.”
“I’m not surprised. It feels to me like Keene knows what he’s doing. He wouldn’t have left any tracks.” “You’re certain it was him?”
“Yeah.”
A gust of wind blew against the house, a surge of rain hitting harder and louder with a sound like someone had overturned a bucket of water on the roof.
“You asked why you were doing this,” she said.
“Right. I’m not sure why.”
She propped her head up on her hand, her elbow buried in the pillow. She pushed her hair away from her face, so it fell over to the side, covering her arm. “I think I know why.”
I rolled on my side and matched her pose, putting my head on my hand. “Tell me.”
“You sure?”
“Your opinion matters more than the rest combined.”
She smiled, her long eyelashes fluttering in the dark. “Because it’s right. And it’s a way of helping him. Your father.”
I had blanched every other time someone had called Simington that. But Liz wasn’t saying it to make a point. She was merely stating the truth, and it was time for me to start letting that go.
“How?” I asked.
“You can’t save him from execution,” she explained. “But you can make sure he doesn’t die solely responsible for the murders of those men. You can let the world know Simington wasn’t the only bad guy involved.”
“Is that worth it?” I said. “People will think what they want to think.”
She placed a finger on my chest. “It will change the way you think. You’ll know that even if Simington wasn’t who you wanted him to be, at least it wasn’t all on him. He told you this was going to be the one good thing he does.” She leaned closer. “Maybe it’s up to you to see that that’s what happens. That the one good thing Simington ends up being responsible for is the arrest and punishment of Keene.” She paused. “And maybe that will let you remember him in another way than the way you think about him now.”
I put my hand on the finger she had in the center of my chest. I pulled it to my lips, and kissed her fingernail.
“I’m not sure if you’re right,” I said. “But thank you.” “For what?”
“You’re giving me permission to keep going on this,” I said. “You don’t even know if you’re right, but it’s your way of telling me not to give up.”
She slid closer to me, the mint from her hair washing over me again. “Just do what you have to do. Do what’s right.”
I pulled her close and kissed her. I tilted my forehead against hers. “I love you.”
She pushed me onto my back and slid on top of me, a here-comes-trouble grin flashing through the darkness. “Prove it.”
FORTY-THREE
Thick gray clouds hung outside Liz’s window when I woke the next morning. The rain had stopped overnight but seemed ready to empty out of the low sky at any moment.
