Chapter Eleven
Carmel Valley, San Diego, California
Tuesday, January 10, 9:30 p.m.
Kit brought her Subaru to a stop in her parents’ driveway, which was already filled with Subarus. Mom’s and Pop’s vehicles were here. And so was Akiko’s.
That could be good or it could be bad. Kit hadn’t forgotten about Akiko’s mysterious phone call from the woman claiming to have known her mother. She hoped there’d been no trouble on that front.
She started to get out of the car, then remembered her promise to Sam and opened a text window.
Am home. All safe.
A minute later she got the reply. Same. Walking Siggy. Sleep well.
Just a few words and she felt warm and…safe. Settled.
That was more than a little terrifying.
She got out of the car and locked her door. They weren’t usually a victim of crime way out on the farm, but everyone was on edge with Christopher Drummond’s trial coming up.
A tall, broad figure stood on the front porch waiting for her, and Kit’s heart settled even more.
“Hey, Pop.”
“Hey, Kitty-Cat.” He waited until she was on the porch before enveloping her in the best hug. He and Mom were expert huggers and were the only ones who hugged her without asking.
Kit loved that her brothers and sisters understood boundaries. Many of them shared her past and knew that forming attachments could be difficult.
Kit hugged him back, leaning into him longer than she usually did.
“You okay, Kit?” Harlan asked gruffly.
“Just tired.”
“Your mom has a room all ready for you.”
Kit pulled back to frown up at him. “I figured I’d sleep in my old bed.” There were two twin beds in Rita’s room, which had once belonged to Kit and Wren. And then, later, to Kit and Akiko. It was where she always slept when she came home.
“The other girls are bunking with Rita now. We rearranged the room to hold three twin beds.”
“Is Rita okay?”
Harlan waffled his hand. “Mostly. But nights are hard and the other girls didn’t want to leave her. So they’ve all moved in together. Mom’s made their old room into a new spare room. You and Akiko will sleep there.”
“Akiko’s staying over?” Her sister rarely stayed over at Mom and Pop’s house.
“Um…yeah.” Harlan winced. “Something’s going on with her, and Mom and I are worried. She came over and had way too much strawberry wine.”
Kit’s eyes widened. “Akiko got drunk?” she whispered.
Harlan nodded, his expression troubled. “Do you know what’s going on? All she’d say was that she’d had to cancel tomorrow’s charter because Paolo got the flu. She’s never canceled a charter before.”
“I know some of it, but she didn’t give me permission to tell.” Only to tell Sam, and he hadn’t asked.
Harlan nodded once. “As long as one of us knows, I’m okay. And I’m glad it’s you.” He kissed her forehead. “Should we just keep that bed open for you? You seem to be staying over a lot more often these days.”
“Oh. I didn’t think of that. All this time you could have taken another foster. I’m hogging their bed.”
“Hush. You are our child, Kit. You come when you need to. I’m glad you’re here. I’m always glad you’re here.”
She leaned into him again. “Thanks, Pop. I’m always glad to be here.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and steered her into the warm house with its unmistakable smells of home. Fresh laundry, lemon furniture polish, and apple pie. “Mom saved you some dinner. She was hoping you’d be back.”
The house was quiet, the only downstairs light the one in the kitchen.
“Rita and the others went to bed already? And where is my dog?”
“Snickerdoodle is upstairs in their room, being spoiled. The girls are doing their homework. Tiffany has a test tomorrow and she’s nervous, so they’re helping her study. I keep hearing giggles, though, so I don’t know how well they’re studying. Akiko is in bed. She got…weepy.”
Kit’s eyes widened once again. “Akiko cried?”
Harlan shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t know what to do, so Mom got her upstairs and into bed. If she’s awake when you go in, make sure she has some aspirin and some water. And maybe a trash can next to her bed.”
Kit cringed. “If she barfs, I’ll hold her hair back.”
Harlan laughed, a deep quiet laugh that was as much a part of this house as the good smells. “I knew I could count on you. Betsy, Kit’s here.”
“I heard her drive up.” Betsy linked her arm through Kit’s and walked her into the kitchen. “ And I saw you on the new camera. Who were you texting?”
“How did you know I was texting?”
“I didn’t,” Betsy said with a chuckle. “I suspected, but you just confirmed it.”
Kit had to laugh. “You’ve been watching TV cop shows again, Mom.”
“Yep.” Betsy busied herself warming Kit’s dinner. “So…who were you texting?”
There was a hopeful note in her voice that made Kit nervous. Kit knew what her mother hoped for—that Kit was texting “someone special.” She didn’t want to admit it, even to her parents.
Because it was terrifying. And what if it didn’t work out?
What if it does?
Her folks had been with her every step of her life since she’d hidden in their barn as a twelve-year-old runaway. Surely she could pay them back with the news they clearly craved.
She drew a deep breath. “It was Sam.”
Betsy grinned slyly. “I knew it,” she whispered.
“Betsy,” Harlan cautioned as he sat down, carving knife in one hand and some partially carved wood in the other.
“It’s okay, Pop. I figure I owe you two some good news every once in a while.”
Both of her parents stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at each other before staring at her.
“You owe us nothing,” Betsy said. “Your private life is exactly that. Private. Now, if you want to tell me, I’m all ears. But if I ask and you don’t want to share, then say so, and I’ll let it go.”
Kit smiled, inhaling when Betsy put an overflowing plate in front of her. Tonight had been Swedish meatball night and Kit was a total fan. “I know. But you do deserve to know when things are good. Not just when they’re bad.”
Harlan went back to carving. “So things are good with Sam?”
Kit chuckled. “Yes, Pop. He’s asked me out on another date, for Saturday night.”
Betsy took the chair opposite Kit and sipped on a cup of coffee. “And if you’re working?”
“Unless I’m hip-deep in a crime scene, I’m taking time off for dinner.”
Once again, her parents stopped what they were doing and stared at her.
Kit frowned. “What? I can be a grown-up, too.”
Harlan went back to his task, a smile on his face. “We know. We raised you right.”
“You did. Now let me eat. I’m starving.” She pointed at Harlan’s block of wood. “Whatcha making?”
“I don’t know. I think something for Sam. Or Georgia or Eloise.”
“Do one for the ladies first. They’ll get cranky otherwise.”
“Eloise never gets cranky.” Betsy sighed. “And now we know why.”
Kit laughed. “Pot brownies.” The old woman was famous for them at the Shady Oaks Retirement Village. “She’s very generous with her baking.”
“Rita got her to share the recipe,” Betsy said sourly.
“Rita’s not gonna make pot brownies,” Kit said with certainty. “She’s just trying to keep you on your toes. Besides, I’ll tell her to not even think about it.”
“Thank you,” Betsy said fervently. “This old woman’s going to bed now. Can you put your plate in the dishwasher, Kit?”
“Of course. Thanks, Mom. Sleep well.”
The words made her cheeks heat. Sam had said those same words. They were warm and lovely.
Harlan remained, quietly whittling as she finished her dinner. “Why are you really here, Kitty-Cat?” he asked when she’d all but licked her plate. “I want you to always come when you need to or want to. But is there anything bothering you?”
“This case,” Kit confessed. “For a while we had too many leads, but our last one dried up tonight.” She mimed slitting her throat.
Harlan grimaced. “That sucks.”
“Especially for the victim,” she said dryly. “And several of our suspects are being represented by Laura Letterman.”
Harlan’s shaggy gray brows shot up. “Sam’s ex?”
“Yep. She doesn’t like me.”
“Well, that’s not a surprise, Kit. You have the good man she threw away.”
“I don’t have him. I’m more just…I don’t know.”
“Dipping your toe in. I know. So does he.”
Kit had been picking up her plate to put in the dishwasher, but she set it down. “How do you know that?”
“I asked him. He told me. It’s called communication, Kitty-Cat.”
She wanted to be irritated, but it was Harlan, so she only huffed. “You’ve been talking about me?”
“Only a little. Just making sure he knows to be patient. I don’t want him to break your heart.”
“Somehow I can’t see Sam breaking anyone’s heart,” Kit said honestly. “If anything, I’ll break his.”
“Your heart is more fragile than you want to admit. I’m your father. I get to give Sam the speech.”
Kit had to smile at him then. “I’m so glad you’re my father.”
Harlan dipped his head shyly. “Go take care of your dishes, then sit down and tell me about this case. You know I’m a vault.”
He was. So was Betsy. Anything she said to either of them would never be repeated.
She obeyed, then settled back down in her chair to watch him carving the block of wood. It was soothing.
“Well, we have one suspect. All we know is that he’s got a neckbeard. We don’t even know if he really has one or it’s just a disguise.”
“Hard to get features if his face is covered in hair,” Harlan agreed. “Smart disguise. No one even thinks about looking at the rest of his face.”
“That’s right. So far he’s killed four people and maybe a fifth,” she said, thinking of the guard shack guy. “And that’s just this week. We’re out of leads except for the fact that he used a trailer to steal the first victim’s Ferrari.”
“And Bruce Goddard hasn’t been able to find it?”
“Nope. Nor the Rolex the first victim was wearing when he died. I want to believe the widow had nothing to do with it, but she was hinky, too. Says he hit her, so she ran away. That she planned to divorce him, but he died first.”
“That could be true.”
“It could be. Alicia Batra thinks more than one person killed the first victim. Like Murder on the Orient Express .”
Harlan made a face. “That makes it harder on you.”
“Yeah. And we don’t even know where to start with the possible perpetrators. The first victim was blackmailing a lot of people. Enough to buy a Ferrari and a Rolex. Enough to finance a wealthy lifestyle when his wife had him on an allowance.”
“Ouch. That allowance had to have chafed.”
“I know, right? But I keep wondering if we’re starting in the right place. The wife—the illegitimate second wife who has an ironclad alibi—is rich enough to hire someone to do all this, to make it look all elaborate when it’s really just a pissed-off wife.”
“And the other three murders?”
“Loose ends. Snip, snip, snip.”
“So what are you going to do next?”
“I guess we go back to the whiteboard and figure out what we’re missing. What we need is the list of people he was blackmailing. That would satisfy the ME’s multiple-hands-stabbing-him theory, even if I hate her theory with the passion of a thousand suns.”
“But do you hate it, Kit?” Harlan teased, then he sobered. “If it was multiple people, how did they communicate with each other? How would they have known the others existed? It’s not like someone tacks a postcard up on a bulletin board saying, ‘Hey, I’m being blackmailed, how about you?’?”
He chuckled, but Kit did not. “That’s a damn good question, Pop. How would multiple people have communicated? It’s likely to have been electronic, so there would be some data trail. Even if they met in person to discuss the details, they might have had phone calls or a group text to tell folks where they were meeting. I really need that list. I don’t know where to start.”
“How did he get the names of his blackmail victims?”
“He had a PI, unlicensed. He was the most recent body we found. The PI dug up the dirt, and the first guy who was killed—”
“You can say Brooks Munro, Kit,” Harlan interrupted. “Everyone knows that’s the case you’re working.”
“I know,” she said with a sigh. “Munro made contact with the victims, and his admin—who’s also his legitimate wife—collected the money.”
“Where did she collect it? I mean, did she do it in person or was there a drop box? Did they pay her electronically by wiring funds or was it cash?”
Kit tilted her head. “It was cash,” she said, “but as for where the money changed hands, she never really said. That was sneaky of her. Maybe Joel can include that in his plea deal arrangements.”
“You’d support cutting her a deal?” Harlan asked, looking surprised.
Kit shrugged. “Sometimes it’s the lesser of two evils. She’s not a nice woman, and she knows more than she’s telling. We didn’t follow up on where her marks dropped their money, and that’s on us. I’m going to text Joel right now and ask him to try to get that information as part of her plea agreement.” She got to her feet and dropped a kiss on Harlan’s cheek. “Go to sleep, Pop. You can whittle tomorrow.”
He dutifully sheathed his carving knife and slid the block of wood into his pocket. “I was just waiting on you.”
Kit hugged him again, hard this time, getting a grunt of surprise. “I love you, Pop. I don’t say it often enough.”
He stroked a hand over her hair, just as Sam had done earlier. “I love you too, Kitty-Cat. Always have and always will. Now make sure your sister has a barf bucket next to her bed.”
“Will do, Pop.”
Stopping in one of the bathrooms to grab an empty trash can, Kit slipped into the spare room and quietly set the can next to Akiko’s bed. Her sister wore a serious frown, even in her sleep. Kit stroked her hair, hoping to get her to let go of whatever had followed her into her dreams.
Akiko stirred and stared blearily up at Kit. “You’re here.”
“I am,” Kit whispered. “You’re drunk.”
“I was,” Akiko said sadly. “Still am, li’l bit. Sorry.”
“Hey, no judgments. But I am worried. Does this have to do with that call you got about your mom?”
Akiko nodded. “Was thinking about how she just left me on the steps of a firehouse, in a box . When I was really little, I was told that I’d had a photo of her, but it got lost somewhere. She put a picture of herself in the box with me.”
Kit sat on the edge of the bed, continuing to stroke her sister’s hair, unsure of what to say. It was unusual for Akiko to be so melancholy. “I never had anything of my mom’s. I’m sorry you lost that picture.”
“I don’t know what she looked like. If I do meet with that woman, how will I know if she’s telling the truth? Any pictures she shows me will be like a stranger.”
“Maybe she has more than photos. If she’s got hair, maybe we can do a DNA test.”
“Thought about that. But how likely is she to have my mother’s hair?”
“I don’t know. But you will wait to call her back, right? Until I can go with you?”
“I promised I wouldn’t go alone. Mmm. Feels good.”
Kit continued to stroke Akiko’s hair. It was long, black, and so silky. “You’ve always had the prettiest hair. I wished mine looked like yours when we were teenagers.”
Akiko huffed a laugh. “I wanted blond hair like yours. You’re pretty.”
“You’re prettier.”
Akiko pinched her hard.
“Ouch! What was that for?” Kit asked, rubbing her arm.
“For not just saying thank you. Just say thank you, Kitty-Cat.”
“Thank you,” Kit said obediently. “You ready to sleep now?”
“You’ll stay here with me?”
“Until I have to go to work in the morning.”
“I got no work in the morning,” Akiko lamented. “Had to cancel my charter because I’m too chickenshit to go out on my own.”
“Not chickenshit. Smart is what you are. Say it with me. Smart.”
Akiko giggled, sounding like the girl she’d once been. “Smart. Love you.”
“Love you, too. Here.” Kit got an aspirin from the bottle Betsy had left on Akiko’s nightstand along with a bottle of water. “Take this. You’ll thank me tomorrow.”
“Can I thank you tonight?”
Kit leaned down and kissed Akiko’s forehead. “Sure.”
Akiko snuggled closer. “You kissed me. Is it my birthday?”
She’d meant the question in jest, Kit was certain, but it still stung.
Am I that stingy with my affection?
That had to stop. She was protecting her own heart and hurting those she loved in the process. No more.
“Not your birthday. Not yet. Go to sleep. I won’t leave you.”
“M’kay.” Akiko rolled over and in less than a minute was snoring delicately, just as she’d done when they’d been McKittrick House roommates all those years ago.
Kit got in her own bed, immediately noting that Betsy had set out her old quilt. Betsy had made two back then, one for her and one for Wren. It was as close to a security blanket as Kit had ever had.
She snuggled under the quilt and took out her phone.
Her first text was to Connor. We never found out from Veronica about where their marks would drop the money.
Three little dots appeared before Connor’s reply. Shit. You’re right. She said it moved, but we need the last few places. We can check surveillance footage if we know a few places.
Yep , Kit answered. I’ll ask Joel to put it on his list of things to bargain for. Just wanted you to know.
Let’s focus on that tomorrow first thing. You okay?
Kit was startled at the question. Why wouldn’t she be okay? I’m good. You?
At CeCe’s. All is well.
Why did you ask?
Because Letterman was mean to you. Wanted to smack her.
Kit laughed softly, touched. Thank you. I can handle meanness. Go to sleep.
She texted Joel about the drop location, then sent an email to Navarro. Everyone was all caught up, but she wasn’t done yet.
One more text.
Sweet dreams, Sam.
His reply was immediate. You too.
He added a heart emoji and Kit stared at it for the longest time before sending a heart back.
Now she could go to sleep.
San Diego PD, San Diego, California
Wednesday, January 11, 8:00 a.m.
“Thank you?” Kit said in surprise when a large chocolate cupcake was deposited into her hand as soon as she walked through Homicide’s double doors.
Detective Kevin Marshall nodded with a wide grin. “You’re welcome.”
“So…someone solved a case?” she asked, dragging her finger through the cupcake’s icing. She licked it off, humming in appreciation even though her mother’s baked goods were a thousand times better.
These cupcakes had come from the bakery near the precinct and were the standard celebration food whenever someone closed a homicide.
“We did,” Marshall said, then his grin turned sheepish. “Or you did. The Munro case is still open, of course, but we closed the Crocker case. The gun you found under Walter Grossman’s body last night was a ballistics match for the gun that killed Jacob Crocker, William Weaver’s PI.”
Kit wasn’t surprised. “I wonder if Munro ordered it or if Grossman took it on himself to kill Weaver’s PI.”
“Ask Veronica,” Alf Ashton said, coming to stand with his partner. “She recognized Jacob Crocker’s name, so she at least knew about him. We asked Joel to add it to the things he wants to get in her plea bargain.”
“Joel’s going to be busy,” Kit said. “I hope Laura Letterman doesn’t find out exactly how much we want to know.”
“Joel’s going to offer reduced prison time in exchange for her full cooperation,” Marshall said. “So Veronica’s attorney won’t know the details until he starts asking questions.”
“Letterman’s pretty good.” It hurt to admit, but it was the truth. “If I were Veronica’s attorney, I wouldn’t agree to full cooperation. I’d make everything à la carte.”
Navarro walked up to them, coffee in one hand and a cupcake in the other. “Then I’m glad you’re not Veronica’s attorney. Solve this case fast, if you don’t mind. The bakery cupcakes are okay, but I want something your mother baked.”
Kit laughed. “Fine.” But she sobered when she stopped to study Navarro’s face. He was frowning. Not his normal “everything sucks” frown, but the one he got when something in particular was bothering him. “What’s going on, boss?”
Navarro sighed. “Come with me.” He left them, crossing the bullpen to his office.
“What did you do?” Marshall whispered.
“I don’t know,” Kit whispered back, racking her brain for what might be the problem.
“Close the door,” Navarro said as he sat behind his desk. “And have a seat.”
Warily, Kit obeyed. She set her cupcake on the corner of Navarro’s desk, her appetite gone. “What did I do?”
His smile was rueful. “Nothing. It’s what you might do, and I need you to stop and think before you act.”
“Okay.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Let’s have it.”
“Christopher Drummond contacted the DA’s office this morning.”
Kit had to breathe through a sudden rise of rage. “What did he say?” she asked, proud that her voice held steady.
“He says he has information about Brooks Munro,” Navarro said. “He’s willing to share if the DA drops all charges.”
Kit was out of her chair before she knew she was even moving. Her fists clenched and her whole body was taut as a wire. “No.”
Absolutely not. That man killed Rita’s mother. He raped Rita.
Over my dead body will that piece of shit walk free.
Navarro waved a hand, indicating she should retake her seat. “Sit down, Kit. No one wants to give that man air to breathe, much less a get-out-of-jail-free card.”
Shaking from pure fury, Kit sat, but her fists remained clenched. “Are Joel and his boss considering that fucker’s offer?”
Navarro shrugged. “Depending on what he has to offer, they might be interested, but Drummond’s up on a murder one charge. He only made bail because he’s rich and has powerful friends, but still I think he’d have to have some pretty compelling testimony to get any concessions. Personal opinion? The best Drummond could even hope for would be life with parole.”
“He could get twenty-five years with parole,” Kit said, using every ounce of control she possessed not to fly out of Navarro’s office and strangle Christopher Drummond herself. “That’s the minimum mandatory.”
“I know,” Navarro said quietly. “And he might get that. This is his first offense and they have nothing more on him. He can claim he killed her in a fit of rage and he could even get his charges taken down to manslaughter. All of that could happen.”
Kit closed her eyes. Stay in control. She couldn’t have Navarro thinking that she was a loose cannon.
Breathe. She did so, then breathed again when she realized the voice in her mind was Sam’s. Breathe, Kit. That’s the way.
When she was calm, she opened her eyes to find Navarro watching her carefully. He nodded once. “You okay now?”
“Yes, sir.” She unclenched her fists and gently shook her hands. “I suppose the best way not to give in to Drummond’s demands is to figure out what he wants to tell us some other way.”
“Exactly what I was thinking.”
One more deep breath. “Will the brass want us to give Drummond a deal?”
“Not if we don’t have to, but I’m getting pressure to solve this case.”
“It’s only been four days,” she protested. “We’re not water walkers here.”
Navarro’s lips tipped up. “They think you are. You’ve solved some big cases recently. You have their full attention.”
“No pressure,” Kit muttered.
Navarro shrugged. “You can handle it. What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to tell Connor first and we’ll come up with a plan.”
“Good answer. And then?”
Kit knew what he was asking. “I need to tell Rita. If she hears about this on the news, she’ll freak. She’s already terrified that Drummond will come after her to keep her from testifying.”
Navarro frowned. “Has she received any threats?”
“Just a vaguely ominous letter. The writer said that he hoped she enjoyed being in Alice in Wonderland —that’s the play her school is doing this year. Rita’s part of the ensemble. He said he’d be in the front row.”
“What a fucker,” Navarro growled. “He’s been watching her. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Pop told Joel before Christmas, but I just found out Friday night. Rita knows about it, though, so she’s been what-iffing a lot. She’s a teenager who’s too intelligent for her own good and who was dealt a real shitty hand in life. She was eleven years old when she found her mother’s dead body, sir. She’s only fourteen now. She knows firsthand how rotten Christopher Drummond is and what he’s capable of.”
“What are your parents doing to keep her safe?”
“Pop’s upped security at the farm. He’s got a new home security system plus cameras and motion detectors.” He’s also got a shotgun, she thought, but no way would she offer that piece of information. “They’re also getting a dog, which means I’ll get Snickerdoodle back. I think Pop’s picking up the new pup from the animal shelter today. And I’ve been staying there most nights.”
Some of it was for Rita. Some of it for me.
“Until Drummond makes a move, that’s all you can do,” Navarro said, his voice heavy with regret. “Tell your father about Drummond’s request for a deal. Let him decide when the time is right for Rita to know. Can they keep her home from school?”
Kit wanted to say yes. She wanted to drive home and barricade them all in the warm house with its homey smells. She wanted to wrap her family in bubble wrap and never let them leave her sight.
But she couldn’t do any of those things. “Keeping her home from school would have to be a last resort. She’s finally found her footing. She’s making friends and catching up from all the time she missed after her mother’s murder. I don’t want to undo her progress.”
Navarro sighed. “This sucks, Kit. I’m not gonna lie.”
“How long before we’re pressured to make a deal with that piece of shit?”
Navarro shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll push the decision out as far as I can. That’s all I can promise.”
“I appreciate it, sir. He might have nothing new on Munro.”
“Then again, he might hold the key.”
Kit sighed. “You’re right. This sucks. They both served on the city council. How sad is it that two members are rotten to the core?”
“Pretty damn sad.”
“Although Munro operated his blackmail scheme for eight years, according to Veronica. And even though it looks like Grossman murdered Jacob Crocker, we might not ever know if Munro was involved. A jury might see Munro as being worse than Drummond. Munro committed crimes for years, while Drummond killed his maid in a fit of rage after learning she was pregnant and unwilling to get rid of the baby. That he raped the woman isn’t easily provable. He can say the sex with Rita’s mother was consensual, and she’s conveniently dead, so she can’t refute him.”
Navarro sat quietly, waiting. He knew Kit well enough by now to know that her mind was turning over all the possibilities.
“We didn’t question any of the other council members yet,” she went on, “because we didn’t know what exactly Munro had done. Now we know there was blackmail and possibly murder. I hate to think any of the other members of the council are dirty. I guess we have to find out.” She bit at her lip. “Unless there’s another place Munro and Drummond intersect.”
“Like?”
“I don’t know. We’re going to find out. Did you have anything else, sir?”
“No. Go forth, Kit. Figure this out.”
“We will. I’ll call Pop and then we’ll get started.” She looked through the window in Navarro’s office door. “Connor’s here, so we can get the party started. Is this something we can share with Marshall and Ashton? I’d like to get all hands on deck.”
Navarro fully smiled then. “Look at you, being all cooperative.” He faked wiping a tear from his eye. “My little detective, all grown up.”
Kit huffed a laugh, then grew serious. “Thank you for telling me, sir. We will figure this out.”
She left, making sure to take her cupcake with her.