Liquid Smoke Read Free

working for someone,” I said, folding my arms across my chest. “You know that for sure?”
    Darcy shook her head. “Not for sure, no. But looking at his history, Simington’s never been a leader. His record shows that he’s always been a middle man. A guy who takes orders.”
    “What else has he done time for?”
    “Armed robbery, assault, and various weapons charges. He did five years on the robbery and less than a year each on the others. Walked on several other charges.”
    A bank of clouds moved in front of the sun and shaded the beach. The shadows added to the sour feeling in my stomach.
    “Any idea who he was working for?” I asked.
    “Not really,” she replied. “But I found a pattern in his employment. For the previous three years until his final arrest, he was working as a security guard for some different casinos.”
    Putting a convicted felon in a casino was enough to raise anyone’s eyebrows.
    “Any explanation for the murders?”
    “None that Simington would give,” she said. “The detectives that put his case together tied him to an alien smuggling ring, but he never confirmed. Or denied.”
    “Alien smuggling. You think Simington helped bring Mexicans across the border?”
    She fixed me with her gray eyes. “Yes. I’m not sure exactly what his role was, but I believe Russell Simington—your father—was involved with that.”
    I forced my mouth to keep from asking another question. I hated the fact that I was already curious, wanting to know more about Russell Simington. I didn’t want to want any part of this, and yet, I was already feeling a gravitational pull.
    “Look, I know this will be difficult for you,” Darcy said.
    “Will
be difficult?” I said, equally amused and annoyed. “When did I say yes? Did I miss it?”
    She pursed her lips, accepting the chastisement. “I understand that you never knew him. But I’m not asking you to develop a relationship with him.”
    “That’s exactly what you’re asking,” I said. “The moment I look at him, it becomes a relationship.”
    She pulled at the yellow rash guard as if the neoprene T-shirt was too tight. Her intensity was almost tangible, like a force field around her.
    “I don’t believe in the death penalty,” she finally said. “It’s wrong. I decided a long time ago that I would commit my life to stopping it. I don’t apologize for that. But I can’t control who it brings me to or whose lives I have to disrupt in order to stop it.” The first bank of clouds passed, and the sun splintered through. “This time, it’s brought me to you.”
    “Lucky fucking me.”
    “Just go talk to him,” she said, leaning closer. “Just once. If he won’t talk to you or it gets ugly, fine. You’re out, and I won’t bother you again.” She leaned back and shrugged. “I’ll figure out another way to get his story, and I won’t involve you.”
    “How about not involving me now?” I said. “Or for that matter, ever? I don’t recall any of this being on my Christmas wish list.”
    She shook her head and looked away, not appreciating the remark.
    The ocean was dying as the storm trudged in, going flat with thin lines of white foam trickling in to the shore. We stood there for a few moments, not saying anything. We both knew she was getting to me, yet I wasn’t willing to acknowledge it and she seemed content to wait me out.
    “Where is he?” I asked.
    “San Quentin,” she said. Her cheeks were bright pink, a combination of sunburn and emotion. “It’s the only place in California that houses male death row inmates.”
    “Do I just show up?” I asked. “Knock on the door and ask when visiting hours are?”
    “I’ve already set up a visitation time,” she said. “I’ve booked a flight that leaves for San Francisco the day after tomorrow. For both of us.”
    I laughed and shook my head at her bravado. “At least you’re confident.”
    She rose from the wall and stood in front of me, the muscles in her jaw