FIFTY-SIX
“What are we going to do?” Carter asked.
We were headed back to Mission Beach, a light rain slicking the highway.
“Moffitt first,” I said. “After I talk to him, I’ll have a better idea of what I want to do.”
“Miranda’s getting restless,” Carter said, swinging his car onto Mission Bay Drive. “She feels like Darcy’s getting forgotten in all of this—”
“I don’t care. Tell her to go home. Or don’t. But I don’t care what she does.” The gray clouds were sinking lower, obscuring even the rooftops of the hotels as we moved over Bahia Point. “I’m off Darcy’s case. The police can worry about her. It’s not my concern.”
“She still thinks you’re working to help Simington,” he said.
I laughed, but it sounded harsh and bitter. “She’s wrong. I’m done with him.”
Carter pulled to a stop behind my place in the alley. Klimes’ Crown Victoria was a block up, but I didn’t mention it.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll get it settled with her and wait to hear from you. Then we get it done.”
I opened the door and stepped out of the car. “Right. I’ll call you.”
He sped off down the alley.
He kept saying “we,” and I knew he meant it. I knew he’d do anything—no matter the consequence—to help me.
But there wasn’t going to be any
And now I was going to take Keene from everyone else.
FIFTY-SEVEN
I walked into my living room and saw Klimes, Zanella, and Wellton standing outside on my patio, each holding an umbrella. Klimes was peering in the door and raised an eyebrow when he saw me.
I opened the slider and let them in.
“Didn’t see you today,” Klimes said, closing his umbrella and dropping it on the patio. “Wanted to make sure you were fine.” Zanella and Wellton came in behind him. “I’m fine,” I said.
“This always sounds empty,” Klimes said, running a hand across his jaw. “But I’m really sorry, Noah. Not just for you, but for us, too. She was a good cop.”
I nodded but said nothing. Zanella looked uncomfortable, refusing to meet my eyes. Wellton looked exhausted, his eyes rimmed with red, his tie pulled loose at the neck.
“We’re looking for Keene now,” Klimes said. “Have you heard from him?”
“No.”
Klimes nodded, like that’s what he expected. “Okay. Alright.” “Why are you here?” I asked.
Klimes bit his lip and glanced at the other two. Zanella still looked nervous, and Wellton’s eyes just seemed vacant.
“We wanted to check on you. We know how hard this must be,” Klimes said.
“I’m fine. But you’re lying,” I said. “Why are you here?” “We want to make sure you don’t do anything stupid,” Zanella blurted out.
“Like what? Hit you again?” Color rose in Zanella’s cheeks.
“I’m ready to go anytime,” I said. “Say the word.”
I felt drunk. The exhaustion and emotion had pulverized me. I knew that if Zanella made even a minute move in my direction, I would shred him. I was saying stupid things and acting even more stupid. But I didn’t care.
“Noah,” Klimes said, his voice a little more official now. “We know what you’re going through. It’d be natural for you to wanna go get Keene. Hell, you’ve got an entire department that wants him now. But we need to make sure it goes down the right way.”
“Really? And what’s the right way?”
“You know what that is, Noah,” Klimes said, trying to soothe me. “Let us do our work and bring him in the right way.”
I shook my head, the bitter laugh coming out again. “Right.”
“Think about it,” Klimes said. “We find Keene’s body, you know who the first person is we have to come to? You. We don’t want that. We’ll get him. And trust me. Nothing a bunch of cops like more than bringing in some piece of shit who killed one of our own.”
“How about you, Zanella?” I said, turning sharply to him. “You feel that way too? I mean, before, you told me that Santangelo didn’t mean shit to you. I believe because she was fucking me.”
That wasn’t exactly what he’d said, but I wasn’t thinking exactly straight.
Zanella flushed again, started to speak, then stopped. He cleared his throat. “She was a cop. He killed her. That’s all I care about.”
I wanted to fight with someone, but even Zanella could see it and wouldn’t take the bait.
