Liquid Smoke

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 we in getting this thing done. Keene had taken Liz from me.

And now I was going to take Keene from everyone else.