Chapter Six
Carmel Valley, San Diego, California
Sunday, January 8, 10:20 p.m.
“More pie, Sam?”
Betsy McKittrick didn’t wait for his answer. A plate with a second generous slice of apple pie appeared before him, along with a pat on his shoulder.
After leaving Kit at the mall, he’d arrived at the Shady Oaks Retirement Village only to find Miss Georgia and Miss Eloise all dolled up and waiting to be picked up by Harlan McKittrick, having been invited for family Sunday dinner. The ladies had insisted he come along and he’d been unable to say no.
He hadn’t really wanted to say no.
There was something so welcoming about McKittrick House. Entering the house was like being enveloped in the warmest of hugs.
And a fine evening it had been, too. Georgia and Eloise always blossomed around the McKittrick table. It had been only two months since they’d lost two of their dear friends at Shady Oaks, and getting out really improved their mood.
“You must give me the recipe for this pie,” Eloise said.
Georgia sniffed. “Like you’d bake a pie.”
Eloise gasped, affronted. “I’m an excellent baker.”
Georgia shot her a pointed look. “Have you ever baked anything other than pot brownies?”
Eloise giggled, fluffing her blue hair. “Nope.”
Suppressing a groan, Sam glanced at Betsy, whose lips were twitching. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “They tend to forget where they are sometimes.”
Betsy patted his hand. “It’s fine, Sam. We’ve had far worse said at this table.”
Georgia harrumphed. “We do not forget where we are. At least I don’t.” She had the good grace to look embarrassed, though. “But I shouldn’t have said that in front of children.”
Tiffany scowled. “We’re not children.”
“We’re fifteen,” Emma added. “And Rita’s fourteen.”
Rita leaned forward. “Tell me more, Miss Eloise. Do you have a recipe?”
Eloise opened her mouth, then shut it with a snap, as if just realizing there were three impressionable teenagers hanging on her every word.
Rita laughed, the merry sound making Sam smile. The girl had been through so much, but she’d also blossomed since coming to live with the McKittricks.
Harlan just shook his head, sipping at his coffee. “Never a dull moment.” Then he stiffened, checking his phone. “The entry alarm just buzzed. There’s a car coming up the driveway.”
Harlan and Betsy had added security features, including brand-new cameras, to give Rita piece of mind. She was nervous about the upcoming trial of her mother’s murderer, which Sam completely understood. The man was a vile monster with far more money than morals, and Rita had been the one to accuse him. That he’d sexually assaulted her as well—and that he remained unaccused of that crime—was more of an issue, Sam thought.
“Hmm.” Harlan pushed to his feet, a frown on his face. “I don’t recognize the car. Who could be dropping by at this time of night?”
Rita had gone pale, so Sam squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sure it’s nothing for you to be worried about. We’ll just check it out.”
“Don’t get hurt,” Rita whispered. “Not on my account.”
“You’re worth protecting, Rita,” Sam said, wishing Drummond an eternity in hell. “But we won’t get hurt.”
Betsy put her arm around the girl’s shoulders. “Go on, Sam. We’ll start cleaning up the kitchen while you and Harlan check.”
“And I heard you three took a trip to the animal shelter today,” Eloise added in her chirpiest voice. “Did you find a dog?”
Sam left the girls to explain that, yes, they had found a dog and that they’d be picking him up in a few days, as he was being neutered on Tuesday. The dog had been Kit’s doing, according to Harlan.
Harlan would do just about anything for his girls. Including standing in his driveway with a shotgun cradled in his arms.
Sam lifted his brows at the shotgun. “Prepared much?”
“Drummond’s made a cloaked threat against Rita. Nothing that could get him in any trouble, but enough that I told Joel right away. Sent her a letter saying that he hoped she enjoyed the play she and the other girls were doing at school. Just to let us know he’s watching her. Joel says he can’t trace the letter to Drummond. I want to kill the bastard myself.”
Sam understood that. That Drummond had gotten out on bail had infuriated him nine months ago. He was free as a bird until his trial. “Does Rita know?”
“Yeah. She read the letter first and immediately brought it to me, nearly hysterical with fear. I ordered the cameras that same day. One of my kids owns a security company. He installed an alarm system the next day and set up the cameras this morning.”
Harlan and Betsy had been fostering for so many years that their “kids” had grown up and now worked all over the city. They had a chef, the captain of a fishing boat, a Subaru salesman—which was why all of them, including Kit, drove Subarus—and, of course, a decorated homicide detective. That a security expert was part of their sprawling family came as no surprise.
“You can go inside,” Harlan added. “I’ll wait.”
The car was winding up the long driveway. “I’m not leaving you out here alone, Harlan. Wait a minute…” Sam squinted at the approaching sedan. “I think that’s the SDPD car Connor checked out this morning.”
Harlan tensed. “Why is Connor here this time of night?”
Kit. It had to have something to do with Kit. She’s okay, Sam told his suddenly racing heart.
Facing down a potential threat to Rita hadn’t scared him. But that something had happened to Kit? That terrified him.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Sam murmured, more to convince himself than Harlan.
“She can take care of herself,” Harlan said, but he sounded as unsure as Sam had.
Sure enough, when the car stopped, Connor Robinson got out, a finger pressed to his lips.
“She fell asleep when I was driving back to the precinct,” he whispered. “She was heading back here tonight, so I just brought her.”
“She was in the office early this morning,” Sam said quietly. “I got there at seven and she’d already been there for hours.”
Harlan sighed. “It’s coming up on the anniversary. She always works too many hours in the months leading up to April.”
The anniversary of Wren’s murder. That went without saying for anyone who knew Kit.
“I know,” Connor said, then pointed to the shotgun. “What’s with that?”
“Threats to Rita,” Harlan said.
Sam left the two of them to discuss Rita’s safety, going around to the passenger side of the department sedan. He opened the door and crouched so that he looked up at Kit. She was sound asleep, her face softer than usual. The frown lines were smoothed over and Sam wished he could make it so that those lines would never reappear. But they were as much a part of Kit as her sharp wit and tender heart.
She looked so peaceful that he hated to wake her, but she couldn’t stay out here all night.
“Kit?” He gently jostled her shoulder. “Time to wake up.”
He thought she’d jolt awake, disoriented or irritated. Instead, her eyes slowly opened and she smiled at him.
His heart was in free fall. She’d never smiled at him like that before.
Then her eyes widened and she sat up so fast that the seat belt engaged and she was thrown back into the seat. “What?”
Sam chuckled. “Let me help.” He reached over her and popped the seat belt latch. “You fell asleep. Connor brought you home.”
She drew a breath, the frown returning, and suddenly she was his Kit again, prickly and a little bit dangerous. And what did that say about him that he liked prickly and dangerous?
“That little shit,” she muttered. “He made it so that someone will have to drive me in tomorrow morning and he knows I won’t make Pop take me in as early as I’d go in myself.”
Sam laughed. “I think you’re rubbing off on Connor. He’s gotten sneaky.”
Kit’s eyes narrowed but then she laughed, too. “I guess I’m a good teacher. What’re you doing here?”
But it wasn’t said with any ire. Just mild curiosity.
“Your folks had invited Georgia and Eloise for dinner. I was dragged in their wake.”
“What was for dinner?”
He held out his hand. “Come and find out. I bet your mom has already made you a plate.”
“Sucker bet.” She took his hand and let him pull her to her feet. “I guess I was more tired than I thought.” She took one look at the shotgun in Harlan’s hand and her eyes widened once more. “Why does Pop have a gun?”
“Christopher Drummond’s threats against Rita. We didn’t recognize the car.”
Kit scowled. “That motherfucker. Thinks he can scare a little girl out of testifying against him in court. I want to smash his face in.”
“I want to help you.”
She closed her eyes on an exhale and when she opened them up, she was calm and collected once again. “Hey, Connor.”
Connor stopped talking to Harlan and slowly turned to face her, the sudden fear on his face a thing of beauty.
Sam waited for Kit to flay Connor alive with her sharp tongue, but instead she smiled sweetly.
Connor took a step back. “You were tired.”
“Oh, I know. And I’ll be sure to repay your kindness someday.”
Connor frowned. “I don’t know if that’s thanks or a threat.”
Harlan’s laugh boomed in the night. “The second one, son. Definitely the second one.”
“That’s what I thought,” Connor said with a sigh. “Just…leave me pretty, okay? CeCe likes my face.”
Kit chuckled. “Okay. Go home, Connor. I’ll see you in the office tomorrow. Eight sharp. I’ll catch a ride in with Pop.” She linked her arm through Harlan’s and gestured for Sam to follow them into the house. “Is the shotgun loaded?”
“Yep. Never know when I’ll have to shoot a snake.”
Kit sighed. “Don’t shoot unless your life’s in danger, okay? There are some things I can’t clean up.”
“Understood.” Harlan dropped a kiss on Kit’s head.
She leaned into him. “Go on in. I need to talk to Sam about some interviews.”
Harlan’s chuckle was a little wicked. “Is that what the kids are calling it now?”
“Pop! I’m serious. Jeez.” Flustered, Kit shooed her father into the house. “Sorry about that,” she said to Sam.
“I’m not,” he answered, and he could see her blush in the porch lights.
She looked so young and carefree when she blushed. He resolved to make it happen as often as he could.
“Are you busy tomorrow morning?” she asked.
Sam checked his phone calendar. “I have a morning appointment with a client, but it’s early. I’ll be done by eight thirty. My next appointment isn’t until one in the afternoon. Why?”
“We’re doing two interviews tomorrow that I’d like your help with. One is Munro’s admin. She’s worked for him for fifteen years and we suspect that there’s more to their relationship than just boss/admin.”
“If they were romantically involved, she might be willing to do a lot to shield his crimes,” Sam said thoughtfully.
“Exactly. I’d like you to observe. We’ll test her grief, try to get under her defenses. I want your take on the veracity of what she gives us.”
“Done. What’s the second interview?”
“Ronald Tasker at the prison.”
Sam hated prison visits. He especially hated the thought of visiting Ronald Tasker. But of course he’d go. “You think he’ll talk to you?”
“I don’t know. From what I’ve read about him, he doesn’t respect women. Again, I’m hoping to get under his defenses. He knows something about Munro. Even if it’s only how Munro makes these under-the-table deals, that would be helpful. We talked to William Weaver tonight. I think he knows more than he’s saying, but he got the information in a less than legal way. He’s determined to stick to the straight and narrow now since he had such a pleasant experience with SDPD last time.”
The sarcasm rang heavy in her voice, surprising Sam. “You believe Weaver’s innocent?”
“I don’t know. But if he is, his life’s been ruined for no reason other than Munro’s lust for power.”
“Such a small fiefdom, too,” Sam said. “It’s not like Munro was a U.S. senator. He was a city councilman, for God’s sake.”
“But he was apparently making a buttload of cash somewhere, and that’s something he didn’t want to give up. I’m hoping Munro’s admin can shed some light on where the cash was coming from. Can we pick you up at eight forty-five? Does that give you enough time after your client?”
“I’ll be ready. Now, let’s go inside so you can eat your dinner and I can stop Miss Eloise from giving Rita her pot brownie recipe.”
City Hall, San Diego, California
Monday, January 9, 9:30 a.m.
Tall, blond, and willowy, Munro’s office admin looked an awful lot like Wilhelmina Munro, Kit thought as she, Connor, and Sam filed into the woman’s office.
Veronica Fitzgerald’s eyes were red-rimmed and swollen. Either she had the world’s worst allergies or she’d been crying for a long time. She’d tried to cover up the damage with elegantly applied makeup but had been largely unsuccessful.
Veronica sat at her desk and rested her folded hands on its surface. “How can I help you today?”
She’d flinched when she’d been introduced to Sam. It appeared that the woman remembered that Sam had visited Munro, even though the meeting had taken place at Munro’s house. And, from her reaction, she might just fear what Sam had said about the meeting.
Good. Kit wanted Veronica off her stride.
Kit smiled. “We have a few questions about Mr.Munro’s business associates.”
Veronica lifted one heavily tweezed brow. “He’s a city councilman, Detective. He interfaces with many businesses around the city. To which associates do you refer?”
“He was a city councilman,” Kit said, playing bad cop to the hilt.
It worked. Veronica flinched again.
“No need to be cruel, Detective,” she murmured.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Kit said, and on some level she was. Veronica Fitzgerald had clearly cared for Munro.
Veronica glared. “Get to the point of this visit.”
“I told you. We’re here to ask about your former boss’s business associates.” Kit took out her phone and opened the Notes app. “City council wasn’t Munro’s only job. He spent too much money for that.”
Veronica’s eyes hardened. “He had a rich wife.”
Ooh. Ouch. Veronica did not like the rich wife at all.
“She had him on an allowance,” Connor said with a faux-awkward smile. “I can’t imagine he liked that too much.”
Veronica turned her glare on Connor. “I wouldn’t know.”
Oh, I think you do. Kit made a point of scrolling through her notes. “You two were… together for fifteen years. Is that correct?”
Veronica’s eyes flashed in anger. “He was my employer, yes.”
“And you followed him to the city council from his earlier business endeavor,” Kit pressed.
“I did.”
“So you know his business associates from at least the past fifteen years.”
Veronica smiled coldly. “From before his tenure on the council, yes.”
“May we have a list of those associates?” Kit asked.
Veronica blinked. “You want his old client list?”
“I do,” Kit said evenly. “He was going to be out of office in a year due to term limits. Surely, he had to be planning for what came next. Especially as his rich wife was going to divorce him.”
Veronica’s eyes flashed again, but this time in what appeared to be pain. “I think it would have been far easier for her to kill him, don’t you agree, Detective?”
“I don’t know,” Kit said honestly. “Do you think she killed him?”
“She had motive,” Veronica said bitterly. “She certainly had the means.”
Kit stared the woman in the eye. “She has an alibi.”
“She could have hired someone to do it.”
“We’re keeping all avenues of investigation open,” Kit said. “Which is why we are asking for his business associates.”
“No one else hated him,” Veronica said, her expression daring Kit to disagree.
“Oh,” Connor said softly, “I think a great many people hated him. He got all kinds of hate mail. As his admin, I’m sure you knew this.”
“Many of his constituents had complaints, but he was a stellar councilman. He worked tirelessly for his district.”
“Maybe you could give us your copies of the constituent complaints?” Connor asked, even though they’d already taken Munro’s file of complaints from his home office on Saturday night. “It would help us find out who killed him.”
“Absolutely.” She pulled a key from her pocket and rose to open a five-drawer filing cabinet in the corner of the office. She withdrew a large file folder and quickly relocked the drawer. “Here you are, Detective.”
“And now the list of business associates,” Kit said with a note of impatience.
Veronica sat at her desk, glaring at Kit once again. “I told you that there are no business associates.”
“What were his plans for next year?” Kit asked. “After his term was over?”
Veronica swallowed. “He was going to see the world.”
That was an unexpected reply and one that seemed to cause Veronica pain.
Kit tilted her head. “With you?”
“No. We weren’t…it wasn’t like that.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Kit said. “I heard that you were his date to many country club events. That you danced cheek to cheek. Very cozy.”
Veronica’s cheeks darkened. “Those people are gossips. Yes, I attended because his wife couldn’t be bothered to. We went as friends. Nothing more.”
Kit wondered if Veronica really believed that Wilhelmina couldn’t be bothered, or if that was the line that Munro had fed her.
“Well, that’s good,” Kit said, waiting until Veronica relaxed a fraction. “Because the country club set said you were far too trashy a date. That you couldn’t hope to match his social status.”
Veronica’s jaw tightened. “I don’t care what the gossips say.”
“Well, that’s good,” Kit said again. “Because they say that Munro was about to be thrown out. Nonrenewed, I think the term was. Connor?”
“Nonrenewed is fine,” he said mildly.
Veronica’s chest rose and fell more quickly. “Not true. As long as he paid them money, they were fine with him.”
“There are rules of conduct,” Connor said with a shrug. “Munro didn’t follow them. Rumor has it that he was going to be asked to leave quietly. And if he didn’t, they’d revoke his membership and instruct security to make sure he didn’t return.”
Veronica’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying.”
Of course they were. But the woman believed them. Kit could see it in her expression.
Kit shrugged. “Just telling it to you like it was told to us. Munro was not well liked anywhere. His constituents hated him, his social set barely tolerated him, and his rich wife was going to divorce him. And you still haven’t answered how he was able to afford his lifestyle on the small allowance his wife paid him.”
“I wasn’t involved in any of Mr.Munro’s outside endeavors,” Veronica snapped. “If he had plans for after his council term was ended, I didn’t know about them.”
Sam spoke up quietly. “I thought you said he was going to see the world.” He paused, his voice so kind. “It was going to be with you, wasn’t it?”
Veronica’s eyes filled with tears. “I have work to do. Please leave.”
Kit gestured back to the chair when Sam started to rise. “We’ll leave when the interview is finished, Dr.Reeves.” He stilled. The command left her feeling…unsettled inside. She didn’t dislike playing bad cop, but she didn’t want Sam to witness it. “Miss Fitzgerald, you were his closest colleague for fifteen years. I think you were romantically involved. I’d think you’d want us to find out who stabbed him twenty-five times, chopped off his fingers and toes, and left his body in the desert to be eaten by animals.”
Veronica had paled. “What?” she whispered.
Kit had her now. “Yes. He was tortured, his body mutilated. Someone had to have hated him a great deal to inflict so much damage. And pain, ma’am. He was alive for most of it, if not all of it. I’d think that you—as his trusted colleague and likely romantic partner—would want us to find those responsible and put them in prison for the rest of their lives.”
Tears leaked from Veronica’s eyes, streaking her makeup. “ Those responsible? Their lives?”
“Our medical examiner has theorized that he was stabbed by multiple hands. If you know anything, this is the time to tell us.” Kit softened her tone, just a fraction, hoping to set the hook. “We need your help.”
Veronica shook her head, the movement jerky. “I don’t know anything. Please leave.”
Kit stood. “We’ll be back. You know something and we will find out what that is.”
With a shaking hand, Veronica wrote a single name on a notepad and ripped the paper free. “My attorney. All further communications should go through him.”
Kit took the paper and nodded. “As you wish. Gentlemen? We’ll see ourselves out.”
Kit left the woman’s office, followed by Connor and Sam. Kit didn’t look at Sam. Didn’t want to see the censure in his eyes. The disappointment. Because he was good and kind.
And I am not.
Veronica closed the door sharply, quieter than a slam but the sentiment was the same.
When Sam and Connor started for the stairs, Kit held up a hand, beckoning them to return. Holding a finger to her lips, she cocked her head toward the door.
From within Veronica’s office came the sounds of retching and a single, brutal sob that was immediately silenced.
A minute followed, an entire minute. Kit was counting in her head. And then, Veronica’s voice, urgent and thick with tears.
“The cops were just here. They know.”
A pause.
“I don’t know what they know, but it’s something .” Another pause. “No, I haven’t found it yet, and I’ve searched. They’ve sealed his office up—both here and at his house. I can’t look for it in either place. We need to get out of here. Today.” Another pause, shorter this time. “I’ll make the arrangements. Just be ready.”
Kit met Connor’s eyes. He looked satisfied, like he’d expected something like this. She still couldn’t bring herself to look at Sam.
More silence followed, and when it became clear that Veronica’s conversation was over, Kit led them to the stairs and out the front door, dialing Navarro as she walked.
“We need eyes on city hall ASAP,” she told her boss. “I’ll bring you up to speed when we’re in a secure location, but get someone over here as soon as humanly possible. We’ll wait in our car until they arrive. I’ll call you back in a few minutes.” She ended the call with Navarro, then glanced at Connor. “Would you mind bringing the car up to the front? I need to see if there’s a back entrance she can slip through.”
Connor saluted with a grin. “C’mon, Sammy. You can ride shotgun. Let Kit get the back seat this time.”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Sam give her a careful look before silently following Connor to the car.
She’d been a bitch to Veronica Fitzgerald, but that was required from time to time. More often than Kit would like to admit. Normally she didn’t give interviews like this one a second thought, but…dammit. She hated that Sam had seen that ugly part of her. She hated even more that she cared so much.
Shaking off the feeling of disquiet, she went back inside and found the uniformed guard. He’d been watching them outside and didn’t seem surprised to see her again.
“Back so soon, Detective?”
His name tag said D. Macek . He was an older man, about the same age as her father.
She offered him a small smile. “Can you tell me how many exits this building has?”
“More than you and the other two can watch by yourselves,” he said, his tone indicating that he knew why she was asking or at least wasn’t surprised by the question. “Everyone is supposed to file through here on their way in and out, but there are emergency exits, of course.”
“Of course.” Kit found she’d shoved her hand in her pants pocket, her thumb rubbing the cat-bird carving that Harlan had given her nearly a year ago. “You don’t seem surprised that I’d ask.”
“Because I’m not. I figured you’d be in to talk to Fitzgerald at some point today. I hear the rumors, Detective. A lot of people liked Munro. He could be very likable and a lot of the women admired him. But I think that Munro was rotten to the core and that admin of his was up to her eyeballs in it with him.”
“Are you a retired cop?” Because he sure sounded like one.
“Twenty-five years on the force. Got this job because retirement was a lot more boring than I’d expected.”
“What can you tell me about Munro and Fitzgerald, sir?”
“Nothing concrete. You know that he drove a Ferrari—the one that’s missing. That was in the newspaper. But she also drives a fancy car, and the other admins talk about the trips she takes to the Caymans several times a year. She also gets deliveries from a lot of upscale stores. She lives well. Which, y’know, isn’t a crime, but…” He shrugged.
The mention of the Caymans was interesting. That was a long way to fly when there were beach destinations so much closer to San Diego. Money laundering was Kit’s first thought. Lots of offshore banking happened in that part of the world. “When was her most recent trip to the Caymans?”
He frowned. “I’m thinking it was in October. I overheard two of the other admins complaining about her getting special treatment, what with all the vacation time she takes. It’s more than the others get—and they compare notes. One of the women said that Fitzgerald made some noise about a friend having a time-share there that they had to use or lose. Which, y’know, could be true, but…” Another shrug.
“Do you remember which admins were talking about her?”
He snorted a quiet laugh. “All of them. They say she’s self-important and a real bitch. Some of them are jealous that she works for Munro because they wish they did, but others have been shredded by her sharp tongue. I don’t one hundred percent remember who made the comment about her vacation, but if I do, I’ll tell you.”
“Thank you, sir. Have you had any media in here today?” She was specifically thinking of Tamsin Kavanaugh, the reporter who’d been having an affair with Munro.
Macek rolled his eyes. “They were all over the place at the end of last week when he went missing. I thought they’d be back in force today, since his body was found on Saturday, but so far they’ve only been hanging around outside. Doing reports with the building in the background. Sound bites, that kind of thing.”
“Do you remember any media visiting here in the past? Asking to see Councilmember Munro?”
“Oh.” He scowled. “You’re asking about Tamsin Kavanaugh.”
Kit had to fight back a smile at his aggrieved expression. It appeared that Mr.Macek shared her dislike for that woman. “She visited?”
He gave her an impatient look. “I think you know about that already. The two were going at it hot and heavy a few years ago. Afternoon delight in his office and all that. The staff all over the building knew. That woman would leave here with a smirk.”
“You didn’t approve?”
“He was married. And Kavanaugh’s…well, she’s just awful. I’m not sure what Fitzgerald thought about it, although that was heartily discussed, let me tell you. Admins, council staff, even guys in the mail room. Everyone had an opinion. It couldn’t have made Fitzgerald too happy, having to share him.”
“So Fitzgerald and Munro were involved?”
“Of course. Everyone knew about that, too. Fitzgerald is this ice queen. Holds herself like she owns the earth. Never threw herself at Munro like the Kavanaugh woman, but they were totally doing it.”
“Did you see them in the act or is that your opinion?”
“My opinion based on twenty-five years as a cop.”
“It does seem…convenient that she followed him here from their old job.”
“Exactly. They both seemed to be living a good life. Fitzgerald looked like ground hamburger this morning, she’d been crying so hard. I was surprised to see her here, honestly. I thought she would have taken the day off. I didn’t think she’d let us see her that torn up.”
Kit thought that Veronica Fitzgerald had probably come in to search Munro’s office for whatever it was that she’d been unable to find. “Can you call me if you think of anything else, even if it’s not concrete?”
“Absolutely. And for now, I can have my guys watch the monitors. If anyone leaves through any door other than that one”—he pointed at the front door—“we’ll let you know.”
“Thank you, Mr.Macek.”
“You’re welcome, Detective McKittrick.”
Connor had the car waiting at the curb, so she jogged over and slid into the empty back seat. She couldn’t avoid looking at Sam any longer. He was in the front passenger seat, twisted so that his gaze was locked on her face.
She readied herself for the disappointment. But there was none in the green eyes behind his Clark Kent glasses. They were clear and filled with respect.
Kit exhaled. “You okay, Sam?”
“I was going to ask you the same question. You had to be hard on her in there. Can’t have been easy.”
So he understood. She was nearly dizzy with the flood of relief. “Not my warm and fuzzy side.”
“Your awesome side,” Connor corrected. “Now, all awesomeness a side —get it?—we owe the boss a call back.”
San Diego, California
Monday, January 9, 10:30 a.m.
Sam listened quietly as Kit and Connor brought Navarro up to speed with what they’d learned from Veronica Fitzgerald and the security guard.
None of what they were saying surprised Sam at all. He’d known Veronica was a snake from the moment he’d first interacted with her, back when he was trying to schedule a meeting with Munro about the New Horizons funding. The woman oozed arrogant malice.
No, what had surprised Sam was Kit’s reluctance to meet his eyes as they’d left Veronica’s office. She’d consciously avoided him. And when she did look at him, her eyes had been filled with something close to fear. And shame.
She’d thought he’d disapprove of her tactics with Veronica Fitzgerald. That he’d thought her too rough on a clearly grieving woman. The opposite was true. He’d known what kind of woman Veronica was and Kit put exactly the right kind of pressure on her.
They’d waited outside city hall until several unmarked cars had arrived. Leaving them to guard the exits—and to follow Veronica when she inevitably made her escape—Connor had begun their drive to the prison where Ronald Tasker was serving life without parole for murdering his wife.
Sam was wary about meeting the man face-to-face. He had, after all, been the reason Tasker had stood trial.
Well, that wasn’t true. Tasker had stood trial because there had been enough evidence for the prosecutor to charge him. But had Sam caved to Munro’s demands, Tasker could have gone for an insanity plea. Still not pleasant, but not nearly as bad as a murder charge.
Sam wasn’t looking forward to this interview.
He pushed the concerns away and turned around in his seat to study Kit, who was bringing the call with Navarro to a close.
“If you can get us a search warrant for Fitzgerald’s office and home, that would be great,” Kit was saying. “The evidence is light, but it’s worth a try.”
“The three of you heard her say she’d searched for something that belonged to Munro,” Navarro said, “and that she and her caller had to get out. I think it’s at least enough for a search warrant for her suitcases if she tries to run. I’ll let you know when I have it. With all the focus on this case, I think I can push it through quickly if I get the right judge.”
“Thank you, sir. We’ll continue with our plan for the day. We’re a few minutes from the prison.”
“Tasker’s something of a loose cannon,” Navarro cautioned. “I’m not pinning great hopes on what he’ll give you.”
“We at least have to talk to him.” She ended the call and sighed. “He’s right, you know. Tasker isn’t going to tell us anything.”
“It’s not like we can even offer him anything,” Connor grumbled. “Guy’s serving life without parole.”
“There’s always something they want,” Sam said quietly. He hoped. “Can we talk about Veronica Fitzgerald before we see Tasker?”
Kit’s gaze twitched away, then slowly returned. Sam could almost feel the effort it took her to meet his eyes. The fear was gone, but the shame was still there and that could not stand.
“What about her?” she asked.
“You asked me to be a part of this for my opinion, but you never asked me what I thought about her.”
Connor glanced at him briefly before returning his eyes to the road. “What did you think?”
Kit drew a breath. “Yes. What did you think of Veronica Fitzgerald?”
“She’s a snake. I think you could have been rougher with her.”
Kit’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
He almost laughed but didn’t dare. Kit seemed too fragile at the moment. “You were rough on her, giving her the list of Munro’s injuries like you did, but I think you could have gone further. You never mentioned the damage done to his genitalia.”
As if on cue, Connor winced. “Fuck,” he muttered.
“Yeah, well, not my favorite topic, either,” Sam admitted, “but it’s a reality of this case. Seeing as how they were almost definitely involved—sexually if not also romantically—I think that could have enraged her into saying something. I mean, they were together for fifteen years.”
Kit’s mouth was working but no sound emerged.
Connor smirked, looking at his partner in the rearview mirror. “You broke her, Sammy.”
“I doubt that. It would take a lot more to break Kit McKittrick.” He sighed. “Did you think I couldn’t take seeing you play bad cop?”
“No,” she finally said. “I knew you could take it. We did it to you, after all.”
They had. When he’d been suspected of murder nine months before. He’d had the same reaction as Veronica Fitzgerald after his interview. He’d barely made it to the bathroom before he’d thrown up everything he’d eaten that day.
“True enough. I knew about Veronica before we walked into her office. She gave me the runaround when I was trying to make an appointment with him over the summer, when New Horizons’s funding was up for a vote.”
Kit’s eyes were suddenly sharp. “What did she say to you?”
Good. Kit was back. “Said he was a busy man, that he didn’t have time for such matters. Said that I might be able to get on his calendar…” He trailed off, the details of the conversation coming back in a rush. “Well, shit. She was shaking me down.”
Kit leaned forward as much as her seat belt would allow. “What do you mean?”
“She said I could get on his calendar several weeks from my call, but that would have been too late. I told her that, and she said that campaign donors could ‘sometimes be worked in.’?” He used air quotes. “She was trying to shake me down for a campaign contribution. At the time I didn’t think anything of it other than she seemed sleazy, but I wonder how many people had to pay to see Munro.”
Kit frowned. “Why would she be able to ask for a donation to begin with? He’s not running again. He’s not allowed. Term limits.”
Connor held up a finger. “What if he had higher aspirations? State senate or even higher than that? Remember that list of campaign donors that Marshall and Ashton found in his files? A number of those donations were recent, like within the past few months.”
“Let’s check that out, then.” Kit typed it into her Notes app. “I almost wish you’d paid her, Sam, so we could know what she would have done with it. If it was a simple shakedown and not a contribution, there would have been no paper trail.”
“We can search his calendar,” Connor said. “Check the people he did meet with before he disappeared, find out if any of them paid to play.”
“What a dirtbag,” Sam muttered.
Kit met his eyes, one side of her mouth lifted in an almost-smile. “Yeah, well, we knew that already.”
Everything was now back to normal. The reticence was gone, along with the shame. Sam was relieved, but he still wanted to talk to her about what had happened in Veronica’s office.
But not with Connor around. This was private. He’d wait until they were alone.
She was tapping on her phone again, her brows furrowed. “San Diego has limits to how much city council members can accept from any one individual. It’s not much. Munro would have needed over three hundred donors giving the max to buy that Ferrari.”
“And, again,” Sam said, “there would be a money trail. Candidates aren’t allowed to use campaign funds for personal expenses like that.”
Kit pursed her lips. “Or there were other ‘donations’ that were never recorded. Simple shakedowns. I wonder what Fitzgerald was doing on all those trips to the Caymans?”
“Offshore banking,” Sam said with a sigh. “Why is it always a secret bank account?”
“So they can buy Ferraris,” Kit said lightly. “Everyone would have just thought it was a gift from his rich wife. Only Wilhelmina would know differently.”
“ Was the car a gift from Wilhelmina?” Sam asked as Connor pulled up to the guard shack at the prison.
Connor showed his ID and they passed through. There would be a more rigorous identification process inside the prison walls. Sam really hated going to the prison. He’d been here several times over the years, meeting with clients, but every time it gave him the creeps. He knew that he was helping people and that the work was worthwhile, but the sound of those slamming doors never failed to shake him up.
Connor shook his head. “Her caretaker—Rafferty—told us that Munro had bought the car himself.”
“Maybe Rafferty didn’t know,” Kit said thoughtfully. “Maybe Wilhelmina didn’t tell him. He would not have approved.”
“Good point,” Connor said. “We need to pay another visit to Mrs.Munro and ask her questions with Rafferty outside the room.” He found a parking place and turned off the engine. “Let’s get this visit over with. I hate this place.”
“So do I,” Sam muttered, then turned to Connor. “Can you give us a minute? We can meet you in the lobby.”
Connor’s brows lifted but, to his credit, he asked no questions. “Sure thing.” He handed Sam the car keys. “Lock up. Not a great neighborhood.”
With a chuckle at his own joke, Connor was out of the car and headed for the prison’s front entrance.
Sam drew a breath and met Kit’s eyes. “Why did you think I’d be upset about your interview with Veronica Fitzgerald?”
Kit sighed. “I…I guess I didn’t want you to think I was…” She shrugged. “Mean. I guess there are good reasons not to date coworkers.”
Sam felt a frisson of fear dance down his spine. “We’re not coworkers. We’re…colleagues.”
Kit huffed. “Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.”
“No.” Sam shook his head because the thought of not working with her was overshadowed by the thought of having to walk away from dating her. “I’m a consultant. And I know what you do. I know how you have to do it. And today I think you held back because of me. All that I’m saying is you don’t have to hold back. Do your job. I won’t think less of you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Kit. You arrested me. Your old partner threatened to shoot my dog .”
“Baz wouldn’t have done that.”
“ I didn’t know that at the time.” Sam shook off the memory, not one of his better ones. As meet-cutes went, his and Kit’s had been severely lacking any cuteness whatsoever. “What I’m saying is, when the dust settled, I understood. I didn’t like it because it was happening to me, but I still understood. I know you. You might think that you’re mysterious, but I at least know enough to be certain that you’d have shown compassion for her grief this morning if Fitzgerald weren’t hip-deep in Munro’s crap.”
“The security guard said she was eyeball-deep.”
She was deflecting and he needed her to listen. “ Kit. You did your job. And if I had a problem—which I did not—I would have told you. But nicely and not in front of the witness. Or suspect, whichever she is. You have to trust me, Kit.”
She drew a deep breath and slowly let it out. “That’s hard for me.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “But I’m worth it.”
That earned him a full, brilliant smile. “I know. I’ll try very hard.”
“Good.” It was his turn to draw a breath. “Now, let’s go visit the guy I helped put behind bars because I wouldn’t say he was batshit crazy.”
Kit flinched. “Oh my God. I didn’t think…Sam, why didn’t you say you didn’t want to see him?”
That irritated him. “Because it’s my job , Kit. Just like Fitzgerald was yours. I trust you, personally and professionally. If you can’t trust me with your heart, at least trust that I know what I’m doing in my job .”
She flinched again. “I did that, didn’t I? Distrusted you.”
He grimaced. “Kind of. Yes.”
“I apologize,” she said sincerely. “I didn’t think of that. I…I’m protective over you.”
“And I like that. To a point. I’m good at my job, Kit. Let me do it.”
“Okay. And, just so you know, I’m not giving this asshole any concessions. No offers of time off. No offers to transfer to a better prison.”
“I didn’t expect anything else.”