“What happened?” I asked.

He stared at me for a moment, then leaned against the passenger door of the rental, his arms folded across his chest. “Jacob was a screw-up.”

“Your nephew?”

He nodded. “My sister had a helluva time with him. Couldn’t get him pointed down the right road. He was just determined to go the wrong way. But that doesn’t make it any easier, you know?”

I did.

“As clichéd as it sounds, Jacob fell in with the wrong crowd,” Kenney said, his voice not as confident as it had been before. “Kept getting nicked here and there. Some theft, an assault, that sort of stuff. Not big time, but it was building.” He ran a hand across his jaw. “Started doing some work for a guy who runs a backroom operation.”

“Gambling?”

“Yeah. Poker games, horses, sports. The guy’s been doing it forever, and to be honest, so are a lot of others. It’s not a high priority to quash it all.”

I believed that.

“Jacob stole from the guy. Five large,” Kenney said, sounding like he’d bit into something that tasted awful. “Stupid, stupid move.”

The story fell into place. “And the guy hired Simington to punish him,” I said.

Kenney nodded. “Sure. It’s what they do. Let anybody steal from you and your credibility with your bettors goes to shit. He had to take care of Jacob.”

I shivered against the breeze that brushed across the parking lot.

“Simington was a pro. He came in and did what he was paid to do.” He glanced at me. “He did it, Mr. Braddock. There is no doubt. He covered his tracks, and we couldn’t get him. But he killed Jacob.”

We let that hang between us.

“Jacob was not a good kid. But he was my nephew, and I don’t believe anyone deserves to die like that,” he said. “That’s why I am preoccupied with your father.”

It was like another kick to the shins.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know what to say.”

Kenney nodded. “Thank you. And I am sorry about Ms. Gill. We were on opposite sides, but I didn’t wish her harm.” He paused. “May I ask you a question?”

“What?”

“Have you hired another attorney?” “He doesn’t want one.”

He nodded, satisfied. Then he looked at me in a strange way.

“What?” I asked.

“I had you all wrong.” “How’s that?”

“Family member appears here, in this situation, they are usually desperate. Desperate to figure out a way to stop the train. But I don’t see that in you.”

I pulled the keys out of my pocket. “What do you see, Detective?”

Kenney stepped away from the car. “I see someone who’s really confused.”

“I always look that way.”

He made a face and shook his head. “Funny, but I don’t believe that.” His eyes hardened. “Be clear on one thing, Mr. Braddock. There’s nothing to be confused about. Russell Simington is as bad as they come.” He waved a hand in the direction of the prison. “And this is where he belongs.”

THIRTY-NINE

As my plane descended half an hour late into San Diego, thick rain clouds bounced us around, and lightning was visible out the windows when we touched down.

I was walking through the terminal, getting ready for the wet sprint to my Jeep, when I felt someone fall in step next to me.

“Shitty weather we’re having, huh?” Landon Keene said, smiling.

I stopped, unable to hide my surprise.

Keene’s smile grew. “Welcome home.” He nodded toward the parking lot. “You wanna keep walking? I saw your Jeep out there.”

A subtle message that he knew what I was driving. A surge of adrenaline kicked into gear.

“Sure,” I said, trying to regain a little composure. “You can stand right behind it, and I’ll throw it in reverse.”

He laughed louder than necessary, tossing his head back like I’d told him the funniest joke he’d ever heard. His laugh died off, and he shook his head. “Sounds like your pop’s been telling you some stories about me.”

He was doing a terrific job of sticking his finger on my buttons.

“What the fuck do you want?” I asked.

“Just wanted to make sure you made it home okay. That trip from San Fran can be a tricky one.” The subtlety was gone. “I made it just fine,” I said.

Keene nodded. “Good, good, my man. Hope nothing will be waiting at home for you this time.” He winked.

I stepped in closer, looking down at him. “I’m not some degenerate gambler, Keene. I will take you outside, break off each of your limbs, and set the rest of you on fire.”

Keene stepped back, not because he was intimidated but so I could see his face. “All in good time, my man.” He snapped his fingers, like he’d just remembered something. “By the way. Your mother is looking excellent these days.”

My right hand curled into a fist, and I set my feet to throw a punch. But I knew what he was doing, and I didn’t want him to win this battle. I forced my hand to unclench.

“Thanks for the update,” I said. “I’ll tell her that.”

The smile drifted off his face, and he couldn’t force the fake laugh. It looked like my refusal to engage had confused him.

An announcement came over the PA. Something about a flight delayed due to the weather. Neither of us paid attention, caught in a staring match.

“Amazing what a guy will tell someone when he’s facing the death penalty,” I said, turning the tables. Irritation flashed across Keene’s face.

“I mean, nobody wants to take their guilt to the grave,” I continued. “Have to unload things, you know? Things like gambling, smuggling. Killing.” I shrugged. “Guys even feel compelled to name names.”

It was like I had transferred my anger right into his body. The relaxed, confident demeanor he had arrived with was gone.

“Careful, kid,” he said, his voice much harder than before. “You don’t want to step into this.”

I threw my hands up like I was confused. “Step into what? I thought we were just talking.”

“Worst thing you can do is talk,” Keene said, shuffling a little closer. “You know what’s good for you, kid, you better forget you ever heard dear old dad’s voice in the pen.”

“Why’s that? Worried about something? Maybe I should ask Ben Moffitt about it.”

Keene shook his head like I was brain damaged. “Only time I’m warning you, kid. Stay out of it.”

“And if I don’t?”

He took a couple of steps away from me, heading for the exit, the smile creeping back onto his face. “Then things are gonna start blowing up in your face.”

FORTY

Keene had gotten into my head.

As I drove away from the airport, sheets of rain falling across the windshield like a dam in the sky had burst, I was no longer sure of what I needed to do.

I spent the night wrestling with that and awoke the next morning to torrents of rain. I grabbed a jacket for the first time in forever, ignored Miranda snoring on the couch, and headed out into the crap, puddles splashing around me as I drove.

I stopped the Jeep in front of Carolina’s house. Through the rain, I could see a light on in the living room. I turned off the engine, threw open the Jeep door, and dashed up to the front door and knocked. I looked like I’d jumped in the shower with my clothes on.

Carolina opened the door. “Noah? What are you doing out?” She stepped out of the way and motioned for me to come in.

I came into the entryway, water snaking off me onto her floor.

“Hold on,” Carolina said. “I’ll get a towel.”

She came back and handed me a yellow bath towel. I wiped my face. It smelled like the laundry detergent I remembered her using as a kid, but I couldn’t place the name.

I dried off my hair and rubbed the towel over my arms before handing it back to her. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Why are you out in this?”

“I just got back from San Francisco.”

Apprehension trickled onto her face. “Oh.” She pointed toward the sofa. “Sit down.”

“Simington told me a little more this time,” I said, falling onto the couch.