Chapter Seventeen
San Diego PD, San Diego, California
Thursday, January 12, 4:45 p.m.
Kit slumped into her desk chair and frantically searched her drawer, sighing in relief when she found the Snickers bar she’d left there for just such an occasion. It was king-sized, but still not big enough for the amount of stress she needed to assuage.
“You’re not okay,” Navarro said, perching on the edge of her desk. “So I won’t even ask.”
“Good,” Kit said through a mouthful of chocolate and caramel. She swallowed the first bite and put the candy aside, because Navarro wanted an update. “Alicia Batra said the bathwater fucked with Aylene’s body temperature, so TOD’s not clear. Sometime between seven last night and seven this morning. Her husband said she was in the tub when SDPD showed up to bring him in for questioning and that was at nine fifteen last night, so that narrows the window a bit.”
“When did we pick up the other suspects?”
“Between nine and midnight. So any of them could have done it if TOD is on the earlier side.” She flung her arms wide. “Or none of them could have done it. We don’t know!”
Navarro remained silent, patiently waiting for her outburst to subside.
Kit took another huge bite of the candy bar and crossed her arms over her chest as she chewed. “I’m sorry,” she said when she’d finished the entire king-sized bar. She checked her drawer, but there was no more. “Dammit.”
Navarro pulled another Snickers bar from his jacket pocket. “I bought the party pack. Have one of mine.”
“Thank you. I’m going to save this one because I haven’t had food today and the sugar’s gonna make me sick if I have any more.”
Navarro rolled his eyes and pulled a wrapped sandwich from his other pocket. “I figured you wouldn’t have time to eat. Marshall and Ashton brought a bunch of Cuban sandwiches from the corner deli.”
“You are a prince among men,” Kit said and dug in. “Connor’s taking a break. He needed to go home to CeCe for a little while. Probably a better way to decompress than me eating a party pack of Snickers bars.”
“Probably,” Navarro said mildly. “When is he coming back?”
“Soon. He said he just needed a hug.”
Navarro’s lips twitched. “I heard you got a hug this morning after nailing Drummond to the wall.”
She remembered the way Sam had held her as her adrenaline had crashed. “I did. Got something to say about it?”
“Nope. If I say it’s a good thing, you’ll leave Sam just to be contrary. And if you leave Sam, your parents will have my hide. And I like your mom’s cooking.”
Kit chuckled. “Everyone does.” She sighed and sobered. “Mr. Tindall— the Duncan Tindall—was distraught. He had to tell his wife and grandchildren. The oldest daughter is flying home as we speak. Tindall sent his personal assistant on the company jet to pick her up and bring her home. I mean, private planes aren’t great for the environment, but at least she doesn’t have to endure a plane ride while her world is falling apart.”
“She’s not much older than you were when Wren died,” Navarro noted.
“She’s seventeen. First time away from home. The twins are only eight. I gave Mr.Tindall Dr.Carlisle’s number. She’s done so much for Rita.”
Navarro squeezed her shoulder, just a brief touch. “You’ve got a good heart, Kit. Don’t get too hard-nosed.”
“Trying.” She rubbed her hands over her face. “So are Wilhelmina and the others okay?”
“We’re still checking. Of the seven remaining suspects, we’ve confirmed that five of their families are alive and well. The Dalys are in protective custody and I spoke with Hugh Smith’s wife personally. I’m expecting news on the remaining two families in the next hour.”
“Okay. Why kill Peter Shoemaker’s wife? Why her? Why now?”
“Maybe he intended to kill more people but hasn’t gotten around to it yet.”
“Maybe. I keep thinking that Peter Shoemaker’s sin is much worse than simple adultery. Why else would Munro even bother blackmailing him? Two grand a month? I mean, that’s a lot of money for me. That’s a lot of money for most normal people. But for someone with Shoemaker’s money?”
“You’re assuming he had access to her trust fund.”
“True. She kept her name and he said she kept a tight hand on the funds. But Aylene’s father said that they were happy together. Shoemaker really seemed to hate his wife, but his father-in-law said he treated her like a queen.”
“And now his alibi can’t be corroborated.”
“Right.” And that made her wonder about what else Shoemaker had done. He was the right size to be Neckbeard and his was the only family member of the ten co-conspirators who’d been targeted. “Were the rest of the alibis corroborated?”
“As much as they can be. There’s still some work to do on a few of them, but everyone seems to have been where they said they were.”
They both turned when the Homicide double doors opened and a young woman walked in. Kit sucked in a breath, recognizing the woman’s face from the photograph on Duncan Tindall’s phone.
“That’s Kennedy Shoemaker,” Kit murmured. “She must have come straight from the airport.”
Kennedy was pulling a suitcase behind her. Her face was red and blotchy, her eyes swollen. She was still crying, wiping her face with a tissue that had seen better days.
Kit stood. “Miss Shoemaker. I’m Detective McKittrick. Would you like to sit down?” Kennedy nodded and took the chair next to Kit’s desk. “This is my boss, Lieutenant Navarro. How can we help you?”
“I’m not Miss Shoemaker. I’m Kennedy Tindall. Or I will be by the end of the month.”
Kit sat down, studying the young woman. She had the sweetest face, but her words had been sharp and venomous. “Why?”
“I don’t want anything to do with my father.”
Okay. Kit leaned forward, her instincts setting off every alarm in her head. “Why, honey?”
Kennedy swallowed hard and looked Kit right in the eye. “He sexually molested me from the time I was nine years old until I got out of the house in August for college.”
And there it is. She glanced up at Navarro. “Much worse than adultery,” she murmured.
“Indeed.” He smiled gently at Kennedy. “Thank you for telling us. You’ve had a long trip. Can I get you some water or coffee?”
Fresh tears filled her eyes. “Yes, please. Water is fine. I’ve cried so much that I have a headache.” She fished a bottle from her purse. “It’s just Advil,” she said defensively.
“Then you’ll need something to eat with it.” Kit held out the sandwich. “I’ll split it with you.”
Kennedy shook her head. “I think I’d throw up. But thank you. You’re very kind.”
Navarro returned with a bottle of water. “Can you tell us what you know, Kennedy?”
“I will. But first…my grandfather said my mom was murdered because my father was being blackmailed. Is that true?”
Kit nodded. “We think so, yes.”
“That was why you said that incest was worse than adultery. He was being blackmailed for adultery?”
“He said he was,” Kit said. “Your statement puts that in doubt.”
“You had doubt to begin with.”
Smart cookie. “Yes, I did. You said the abuse started when you were nine?”
“Yes, ma’am. My mom was pregnant with the twins. She had a difficult pregnancy. She was older and she was on bed rest for most of the time.”
“Your father started touching you.” Kit kept her voice calm when inside she wanted to scream.
“Well, he started touching me before that. The actual sex started when I was nine.”
“Did you tell your mother?” Navarro asked gently. Still, Kennedy flinched.
“No, I didn’t. My father told me that if I told my mother, she wouldn’t believe me. That she’d send me away to boarding school and I’d be all alone.”
Sonofabitch. “Do you think your mother would have?”
“Maybe? When I started to tell her once, she cut me off. Said that I was being dramatic, so I didn’t say any more. But if I had told her, I know it would have hurt her. She loved him with all her heart, even when he hurt her feelings.”
“How did he hurt her feelings?” Navarro asked.
“He’d leave for a weekend here or there. He was cheating on her. I knew that and I think she did too, but she loved him. Maybe more than she loved us. I don’t know. Maybe if I had told her what he did, she would have sent him away.” Her shoulders heaved in a sob. “I’ll never know now.”
“The woman your grandfather told me about would have loved you,” Kit said softly. It might not have been true, but it was what the young woman needed to hear right now.
Sniffling, Kennedy dabbed at her eyes with the soggy tissue. Kit gave her the box from her desk and Kennedy took one with a nod of gratitude.
“It wasn’t all the time,” Kennedy went on. “My father, I mean. He waited until my grandparents took the twins for a sleepover and then…he’d come into my room. I think he put something in my mom’s bedtime tea because she always slept through it, even when I yelled.”
“For help?” Kit asked.
Kennedy shrugged. “And because it hurt.”
Beside her, Navarro took a long breath through his nose, but said nothing.
“Can we ask a few questions about your parents?” Kit asked. “How was money? Did they both have enough? Did they argue?”
“They never argued, not that I heard. Not even when he’d disappear for a weekend. Mom just cried and made excuses for him. As for money, there was always enough. I guess, in that, we were lucky. My dad handled all the bills, so Mom never worried about it. He said he didn’t trust an accountant with their finances. That was how people got ripped off.”
Also made it so that his wife would never know how much he was paying Brooks Munro, Kit thought. So much for Aylene keeping a tight hand on the family purse strings. “How did you get away?”
“I applied to colleges outside of San Diego. I wanted to be far away from him, but I didn’t want to be too far from my sisters. They’re only eight.”
Kit regretted having eaten that entire Snickers bar. “Do you think he’d molest them, too?”
“You believe me?” Kennedy whispered.
“I do. That’s why I asked about your sisters. Are they safe?”
She shrugged again. “I FaceTime them every week. My roommate laughs at me for being homesick, but it’s not that.”
“You’re checking on them,” Kit said.
She nodded. “I’ve seen photos of me before and after. I was so happy before, but after…my eyes were just dead. Y’know?”
“Yes,” Kit said simply. “So you figured you’d be able to see the signs in your sisters’ eyes if he started abusing them?”
“I thought so, yes. That’s why I came in today. I couldn’t keep the secret anymore.” A sob rose in her throat and her voice broke. “My mom’s gone, but now that means he’ll be alone with the girls. I can’t allow that.”
“I understand. You’re brave, Kennedy.”
She shook her head. “If I’d been brave, I would have taken up for myself years ago.”
“You were a child. A child being abused and manipulated by her father. The person who should have been making sure the world never hurt you, yet he was hurting you in the worst possible way.”
Kennedy dropped her chin, her shoulders shaking as she cried. She seemed so alone. And Kit knew she had to do something. Even if it made her feel like she was wearing a coat two sizes too small.
“Do you want a hug?” Kit asked softly. “No worries if you don’t. But you look like you could use one.”
Not looking up, Kennedy sobbed harder. But she nodded. So Kit opened her arms and pulled the girl close. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered into Kennedy’s hair. “I’m so sorry this happened to you.”
“Will you make him pay?” Kennedy asked as she cried.
“I will do everything in my power to do exactly that.” She glanced up to see Navarro staring at her curiously, his eyes bright with unshed tears.
He patted Kit’s shoulder and went to his office. Kit just held on to Kennedy, figuring the young woman would pull away when she got tired of the hug.
Kit wasn’t sure exactly how hugs worked, but that made sense to her.
She looked up when Connor came through the double doors. He too stared at her like she was a stranger. Then he approached cautiously.
“You okay?” he asked quietly, and Kit became aware of how often he asked her that.
“I am. This is Kennedy Shoemaker, soon to be Kennedy Tindall. She’s just given us some very valuable information.”
Kennedy pulled away then, glancing up at Connor.
“This is my partner,” Kit said. “Detective Robinson. He’s a good guy.”
Kennedy nodded. “I need to go to my sisters. Do I need to sign anything for you?”
“If you could write out a simple statement and sign it, we’d appreciate it. Now, while everything is fresh in your mind.”
Kennedy scoffed. “Like it ever disappears.”
Hopefully it would someday. Or maybe just not be the first thing she thought of every morning when she woke.
“I already wrote out my statement on the plane,” Kennedy added. “I can email it to you now. You can print it and I’ll sign it.”
Kit was impressed. “Thank you, Kennedy. Do you think your grandparents will believe you? Do you expect trouble from them?”
“I think they’ll be okay, once they’re over the shock. That my father’s blackmail led to the death of my mother will be in my favor.”
“Okay.” Kit gave Kennedy her business card. “Send your statement to me at this email. And, trust me, honey. You are very brave.”
“Thank you,” Kennedy whispered.
New Horizons, San Diego, California
Thursday, January 12, 6:30 p.m.
“Dr.Sam?”
Sam turned his gaze from the window of his office at New Horizons, immediately feeling a smile curve his lips at the sight of Emma in his doorway. “Emma. How are you? How is Rita?”
That Rita’s understandable meltdown had happened only twenty-four hours before seemed impossible. It had been a very long night and an even longer day. But he was nearly finished with his volunteer shift at the shelter and could soon go home and finally get some sleep.
“She’s okay. She stayed home another day.” Emma’s smile was fleeting, but real. “Mom McK’s orders. Can I come in for a minute?”
“Of course, Em. Please, sit down.”
“I hope I’m not bothering you.”
Sam took the chair beside her. It was much less threatening than having a desk between them. “You could never bother me. What’s on your mind?”
Emma was studying his face. “You look tired.”
“I am, a little. But not too tired to hear what you have to say.”
“Look, I’m new here and I know that I haven’t earned the right to—”
“Emma,” Sam interrupted, because he wasn’t going to let her continue that train of thought. “You don’t have to earn rights here. We value you—your time, your empathy. Your brain, because you are so smart.”
Emma blushed. “Tiffany’s smarter.”
“Tiffany is a little more street smart, perhaps, but she was on the street longer than you were. She had to be street smart to survive. You are both highly intelligent young women. And I think that you see things adults might miss.”
He had the satisfaction of knowing he’d hit the target when Emma straightened, confidence filling her eyes. “The kids talk. The new kids, I mean. Not so much around you, but around Tiff, Rita, and me? They talk.” She blew out a breath. “I overheard something two nights ago at McKittrick House that I shouldn’t have listened to.”
“Kit’s conversation with Harlan?”
She nodded. “I didn’t mean to. Honest.”
“I know. Kit knows that, too.” And Sam figured that Kit would be a lot more careful where she discussed cases with her father in the future. “She’s not mad at you, you know.”
“I know.” She was quiet a moment, but that was Emma’s way. She thought first, then sometimes spoke. Her best friend Tiffany was the opposite. Thoughts flew from Tiffany’s brain through her mouth with no filter. “I heard Kit say that the killer has a beard. Like one that goes all over his face and down his neck.”
Sam stilled, because this wasn’t what he’d been anticipating. “Yes. It’s frustrating because that’s the only feature on this man that people remember.”
She grimaced. “That’s what makes a good disguise.”
“Do you know anything about this man, Em?”
“Not me. But one of the girls—one of the new girls—she does. She was just telling some of the others that if they went back on the street and started…” She hesitated. “Well, you know…hooking.”
“I know some of the kids sell their bodies, Em. I hate that for them, but they’re doing it to survive. No judgment. Not from me.”
She relaxed a little more. “I didn’t think so. Well, this girl was telling some of the others that when they left and went back on the street to be careful. There was this guy with a beard like that. A neckbeard?”
Sam realized he was holding his breath. Quietly he exhaled. “Yes. That’s what it’s called.”
“She said not to go with him. That girls go with him and they don’t come back. It’s probably nothing and I’m probably being stupid, but…”
“You are not stupid,” Sam said firmly. “You are so smart. And like I said, you see things we don’t see. And hear things, too. When did she tell you this?”
“It wasn’t me personally. She said it to a group and I was there. But it was just now. Like five minutes ago. The neckbeard thing caught my attention.”
“See? You’re observant. Can I talk to this girl?”
Emma’s sigh didn’t bode well. “She’s here, but she’s twitchy.”
“Like on drugs?”
“Maybe, but I don’t think so. More like she’s so used to being watchful that she can’t stop. More than the rest of us. I wish she could come home with me, but Mom and Pop McK are full up.”
“Like I said, you are smart and empathetic. A lot of kids who’ve been on the street like you were would only be thinking of themselves. You’re looking out for others.”
Her smile became a little brighter. “Kit looks out for other people, too. She was like me, once.”
Another Kit worshipper. They all saw Kit as a superwoman. And they were right. “She was like you.” He remembered what Kit had shared with Connor, about the foster father she’d had to stab with his own letter opener because he’d planned to assault her. “She had Harlan and Betsy to guide her. Just like you do.”
“And you,” Emma said loyally. “You’re the reason Tiff and I are safe now.”
That made him warm inside. “You just made my day, Em. Let’s see if this girl can give us any information on Mr.Neckbeard, and maybe we can make Kit’s day.”
Emma was on her feet in a second. “She’s in the common room.”
“If she doesn’t want to talk to me, we aren’t going to force her to,” Sam warned.
“I know. But maybe she will.”
Sam followed Emma into the New Horizons common room, a cozy space with murals on the walls painted by the teens. There was a TV with video games, a small library, and an area for arts and crafts. Sam was always surprised at how many teens he found painting or drawing in the craft corner.
This room was the heart of New Horizons.
The teens watched as Sam entered. He knew most of them, but there were a few girls in the conversation pit who he didn’t recognize.
One of them, a sharp-edged girl of about sixteen, rose slowly when she saw them coming. “You narced on us,” she hissed to Emma.
For a moment Emma cowered, but then she held herself tall. “I did not. That’s not why he’s here.”
The girl crossed her arms over her chest in a gesture of defiance, but Sam saw the scared kid beneath. “I’m Dr.Reeves, but everyone calls me Dr.Sam.”
“The shrink,” the girl said, clearly unimpressed.
“Guilty as charged,” Sam said lightly. “I’m not here to get anyone in trouble. I’m hoping you can help me.”
“How?” the girl said, tensed in suspicion.
“Emma heard you warn the other girls about a guy with a neckbeard.”
The girl gave Emma a narrow-eyed sneer. “You did narc.”
Sam held up his hands. “No, Emma was helping me with a case I’m working on.”
The girl’s sneer softened to a scowl. “What case? Are you a cop ?” She said the word like others might say “serial killer.”
“No, but I work with cops. I’m a police psychologist. Some people call me a profiler.”
“Yeah?” The girl tried not to look interested, but there was a gleam in her eye.
“Yeah. So, there’s this guy who we’re looking for. He’s got a neckbeard, just like you saw.”
“Lots of dudes have neckbeards,” the girl said dismissively.
“True, and the guy you saw may have no relation to the guy I’m looking for. But…what if he does? What if you could help us crack a case?”
The girl tilted her head, watching him. “What do I have to do?”
“Can you describe him for me?”
She sighed long-sufferingly. “He has a neckbeard.”
“I got that part. Is he tall, short? Fat or thin? Did he have tattoos?”
The girl’s face crunched as she considered. “He was totally average.”
Sam’s flicker of hope grew. “How did he sound?”
“Deep voice. Like…” She pursed her lips. “Almost like Darth Vader but without the…you know.” She exaggerated breathing in and out.
“Oh, oh,” one of the other girls said. “Like Simba’s father in The Lion King . That was the same actor.”
“Yeah,” the first girl grudgingly agreed. “Like that.”
“James Earl Jones,” a third girl said. “That’s the actor’s name.”
“Then that’s what he sounded like,” the first girl said.
“Can you tell me your name?” Sam asked. “Doesn’t have to be a real one. But it would be nice if it were.”
“Why?” The girl went back to being suspicious.
Emma giggled. “The night we met Dr.Sam and Kit—that’s his girlfriend—Tiffany thought they were sus. She said our names were Jane and Janey.”
The first girl guffawed, then slapped a hand over her mouth, looking appalled that she’d laughed.
Sam’s lips twitched, both from the memory and the thought of Kit’s face if she’d heard Emma calling her Sam’s girlfriend. If Sam had his way, that would be true, but Kit wasn’t ready for that step yet. “It took Tiffany a bit of time to trust me with their real names. I had a feeling they weren’t really Jane and Janey.”
“Dawn,” the first girl said. “I’m Dawn.”
Sam smiled at her. “Hi, Dawn. I appreciate you talking to me.”
Dawn shrugged as if Sam’s appreciation meant nothing, but she was standing a little taller than she had before. “Whatever.”
“So this guy is average, but his voice is deep. Any tats?”
“Didn’t see any.”
“Eyes?”
“He had two.”
Sam let himself laugh at that. “Good for him.”
Dawn’s lips curved, just a little. Then she scowled some more. Kit would like this girl, Sam thought.
“He has a rash, I think,” one of the other girls offered. “I’m Amy,” she added shyly.
“Hi, Amy. Why do you think he has a rash? Did you see one?”
“No, but he, like, did this. A couple of times while he was talking prices with us.” Amy pushed two fingers under the cuff of her long-sleeved shirt and rubbed her wrist. Then she tugged her sleeve into place. “That’s why I didn’t get into his car, honestly. I didn’t want to get a rash.”
“When did you see him?” Sam asked.
“Two weeks ago,” Dawn said.
“About that,” Amy agreed. “He was on the corner a few blocks from the high school in El Cajon.”
“That’s really helpful,” Sam said, taking out his phone. He jotted notes to himself, then looked up to find the girls watching him. “Just taking notes. I’m old, y’know.”
“You kind of are,” Dawn said, her sympathy clearly a sham. There was also challenge in her eyes. She was trying to see if she could provoke his temper.
Sam chuckled. “I can’t argue against facts. Did you see what he was driving?”
Let it be a tan Chevy Suburban.
“Big car,” Dawn said thoughtfully.
“An SUV,” Amy corrected. “Like a tan color.”
Yes! Neckbeard’s Suburban was tan-colored. Sam wanted to fist-pump the air, but then Amy swallowed and tears filled her eyes. “One of our group got into the SUV with him and didn’t come back.”
Sam’s heart squeezed painfully. “I’m so sorry, Amy. Who was it?”
“Daniella,” Amy said. “She hadn’t been with us long. Her not coming back scared the shit out of us. It was why we came here.”
Dawn nodded. “She was really young. Thirteen, fourteen.”
And you’re oh so old at what…sixteen? Sam’s heart squeezed again. “Dammit,” he muttered. “I’m glad you’re here, all of you. But I’m sorry your friend didn’t come back.”
“Is she dead?” Amy whispered.
Sam thought of the bodies he’d seen, their throats slit. But this might not be the same Neckbeard. “I don’t know. But I will ask my friends in SDPD to check this out.”
Dawn scoffed. “Like that’ll work. Nobody cares about us, especially not cops.”
“Kit does,” Emma said, her loyalty returning with a vengeance. “She’s a cop. Her parents are our foster parents.”
“Good for you,” Dawn said sarcastically. “So some cop with a heart of gold is trying to help the runaways. Big deal.”
“She was a runaway, too,” Emma said. “Grew up in foster care. She ended up with the McKittricks and now she’s got a career. She cares . They all care .” Her voice broke. “The McKittricks saved my life. Tiffany’s and Rita’s, too. They’re adopting Rita. They adopted Kit. And, maybe someday, they’ll adopt Tiff and me, too.”
Dawn’s eyes shifted from sarcasm to a childish vulnerability laced with a hopelessness that broke Sam’s already battered heart. “Good for you,” Dawn said huskily. “I mean, really.”
Sam had to help these kids. He wondered if Harlan and Betsy could handle a few more. If they couldn’t, he’d find someone else. A good place for Dawn, Amy, and the third girl, who watched them with wide eyes.
Dawn cleared her throat and tossed her hair back. “Anyway, that’s all we know. Hope it helps.”
“Me too.” He wanted to ask them if they’d come to SDPD and sit down with a sketch artist, but he knew that would send them running. “If I get some pictures of this guy, maybe some video, can you have a look? Maybe tell me if he looks familiar? Sometimes seeing a person move triggers a memory.”
Dawn shrugged. “Sure. Whatever.”
“You’ll stay here tonight?” Sam pressed. “Don’t go back on the street?”
Another shrug. “It’s cold out. We get a hot meal here and a clean bed. We’ll stay another night.”
Relief swamped him, partly because he did need their help but mostly because they wouldn’t be on the street tonight. “Thank you.” He turned to Emma. “And thank you.”
Emma’s smile was brilliant. “You’re welcome.”
Sam started for the door. “I’m going to go now. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Tell Kit I said hi,” Emma singsonged with a giggle.
“I will.”
After cleaning his desk and locking his office, Sam headed to his car and placed a call to Harlan McKittrick.
“Sam. Is everything okay?”
“Yes, sir, everything’s fine. How are you? What did your doctor say about your little heart blip yesterday?”
“My EKG was one hundred percent fine and you can ask Akiko if you don’t believe me. I even brought a copy of the results to Betsy because I knew she was scared. I’m fine. What’s really on your mind, Sam?”
Just ask. The worst he can say is no. “Look, I know you’ve got three fosters right now, but I was wondering if you had room for a few more.”
There was a creak in the background, like Harlan had sat in a chair. “Talk to me.”