There was no anxiety or nervousness about him. His repeated statements that he was fine with all this seemed proven by his attitude and his appetite.
“I guess,” I said.
He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Surprised you came back. Thought we were done the last time.”
“Me, too.”
He folded his arms across his chest, the tattoo on his wrist flashing at me like a neon sign. “So. You take care of things in San Diego?” I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah.” “Good for you,” he said, his voice lower now. “Not really.”
“Yes, it is. It needed to get done.”
Discussing a murder in a prison was doing nothing to alleviate the tension in my body and my mind.
“Been a long time coming,” Simington said. “Never thought it would happen, really.” A thin, dry smile appeared on his face. “Almost didn’t, I guess. But I knew I could count on you.” He reached for one of the hamburgers.
It had been sticking in my skin for the previous two weeks. Why had he sent Darcy to me in the first place when he’d had no intention of fighting his sentence? Why had he talked to me when he’d spoken to no one else? Why had he thrown out Keene’s name in the first place? His answers had always seemed hollow, but I’d accepted them at the time. Maybe because I’d been looking for some sort of connection with him. Maybe because I’d wanted to believe that some part of him was good. But somewhere in my head and in my heart, I knew there was something else, something much less altruistic, in his actions. And now, finally, I heard it in his words.
“This is what you wanted from the first day, isn’t it?” I asked.
The hamburger was halfway to his mouth. “What?”
“You didn’t give a shit about me,” I said, seeing it all again in my head. “You wanted Keene.”
He set the burger back on the plate and wiped his hands on the thighs of his pants. “What are you talking about?”
“You were never going to work with Darcy,” I said. “You sent her to me to get to Keene. And then you sent me after him.”
He leaned back in the chair and said nothing.
“Gave me just enough to keep me going,” I said, shaking my head at how stupid I’d been. “Just pointing me in the right direction.”
Simington cleared his throat and fixed his eyes on me. “Some things need to get done.”
His voice had dropped an octave, like someone had poured sawdust down his throat. His eyes had hollowed out. And I finally saw the man whom everyone had talked about. The thug, the killer, the man who belonged on death row.
“You used me,” I said.
“You let me use you.”
“Fuck you.”
He laughed. “Whatever it takes. That son of a bitch was gonna die before I did. I just seized an opportunity.”
I thought of Darcy and Liz. They had died because Simington had been looking for revenge. Revenge that I had carried out for him.
“You’ll find another girlfriend, Noah,” he said. “That’s what you’re really upset about. It’ll pass.”
It was like his words were on tape and they’d gotten stuck in the player, coming out slow and garbled. I ran them through my head again to make sure I’d heard him correctly.
“How do you know about her?” I asked, an invisible spear digging into my spine.
“What?” he said. Something flashed across his face. He realized he’d made a mistake.
I was rewinding the tape in my head. The last time I’d been there, Kenney had said something that hadn’t made sense to me. Something about Simington having old friends visit him. Visitors.
“Keene came to see you,” I said, as much for me to hear as for Simington.
“Noah, look—”
“What did he tell you about her?” I asked, the spear digging in further.
He hesitated for a moment, probably trying to decide whether he should keep up the act. I could almost see the mental shrug, him deciding it wasn’t worth the effort. His face hardened. “He told me you were dating a cop.”
“Did he threaten her?”
“Does it matter?”
The anger was building, but I tried to remain calm. “Did Keene threaten her?”
He watched me, then nodded.
“And you didn’t tell me? When I was here last time, you didn’t tell me?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Keene came here to scare me. Fuckin’ moron.” He waved his hand around the room. “Thinking I’d be scared of him after living here. He was pissing his pants if he was crazy enough to walk in here and be seen with me.”
