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Then he turned and looked at me, his expression assessing.
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“No shit,” I countered.
To my surprise, he smiled, though the expression was fleeting.
“That won’t do,” he said.
“Why not?” I responded, though I was in no mood to hear his answer.
“It just won’t,” he said.
“What kind of answer is that?”
“Mine,” he responded.
“How did you do that?” I asked, changing topics.
“Do what?”
“Make it look like Keenan had died in a car accident,” I said.
He shrugged. “There are ways.”
“I just…”
I trailed off, wondering if I wanted to go down this path. What would be the point? The more I knew, the more compromised I was, the more danger I was in.
But then again, could my position be even worse than it was?
A question I decided I didn’t want to even consider the answer to.
Instead, I looked at him, and he returned my gaze before he again gave me one of those fleeting smiles.
“What? Did you think I was just going to make him disappear?”
“Yes,” I said.
He shook his head. “People watch too many movies. He disappears without a trace, and there are questions,” he said.
“And you hate a questions,” I added.
“Yes, I do. Now it’s a clean, simple story. A promising young man cut down in the prime of his life. What bullshit,” he said with a scoff.
I didn’t respond, and he looked at me, tilted his head.
There was something in his expression, perhaps irritation, and despite my desire to keep my distance, I couldn’t help but ask.
“What is it?” I said.
“At the memorial today, it looked like you were going to cry,” he said.
His disapproval couldn’t be any clearer.
“Why wouldn’t I? I mean…”
“You mean what?”
