Simms sat by himself on the way home from Cleavland. He didn't want to talk to the others, didn't want Coop giving him a longer talk about how he couldn't have stopped the unsub from killing himself. Simms already knew that. But he didn't want to talk to Coop more than he had to until it was long enough for Coop to forget what he had told the unsub, because it wasn't true.
Simms didn't regret killing the child molester, even though it had landed him in San Quentin. Not even a little bit. It had been exactly as satisfying as he had thought it would be, maybe even more so. He didn't see what there was to regret. Because of what he had done, there were kids who were just a little bit safer, and even one kid was enough to make federal prison worth it.
He also wanted to be alone because he wasn't sure why he hadn't pulled the trigger. Simms tried telling himself that it was because Coop was watching, but he knew it wasn't true. Maybe it was because the guy had never molested the little girls he kidnapped, but that didn't mean that they were any less traumatized by being stolen from their parents and almost killed – and then there were the three girls he did kill, one of them his own daughter. That had to be worth a bullet as much as the molester Simms had shot.
Maybe it wasn't the unsub he had been lying to. Maybe it was himself.