Chapter Two #2
Harlan leaned into Sam. “What do you think? Is he safe? Can we ask him to come inside? Because Kit is shivering again.”
Sam put his arm around Kit, still not taking his eyes off Leo Sherman.
She was shivering, this time because she’d come outside in January with no shoes.
It wasn’t a particularly cold night, but…
no shoes. “I think he’s sincere in his grief,” he replied, but didn’t drop his voice.
He wanted Sherman to hear him. “But I’d ask him to let us check him for weapons before asking him into the house. ”
Sherman immediately stretched out his arms. “Check me.”
Harlan glared at Kit. “You go inside. Now.”
Kit made a face but complied. “Check his boots.”
“I’m not wearing boots,” Sherman said softly. “I don’t own a gun.”
“I know,” Kit said, and then she went back into the house but stood in the open doorway, two dogs having come to flank her sides.
One was her standard poodle, Snickerdoodle.
The other was Petunia, a mix of some very large breeds, including mastiff.
Petunia was still a young dog but already stood as tall as Kit’s hip.
The dog growled loudly enough to be heard, and it was an impressive growl, Sam had to admit.
Sherman would have to be a fool to try anything with Petunia on the scene.
Together, Sam and Harlan checked the cardiologist for weapons, then escorted him into the McKittricks’ living room.
Kit returned to her place on the sofa, the quilt now tucked around her bare feet. Sam put his jacket around her shoulders and she smiled up at him.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And if you get sick, I’m telling your mother that you went outside without shoes.”
“I already know,” Betsy said, coming in from the kitchen. “I was watching the camera feed. Dr. Sherman, can I get you some coffee?”
Sam turned to the doctor when the man remained silent. He was staring, open-mouthed, at Akiko, who stood at Betsy’s side. All the color had drained from his face.
Suddenly he swayed, and Sam rushed to his side. “Are you all right, Dr. Sherman?” he asked, lowering the man into a chair.
Sherman waved him away. “I’m…”
He didn’t finish the sentence because he clearly wasn’t “fine.” He was staring at Akiko as though he’d seen a ghost.
“Who are you?” he whispered.
“This is my daughter,” Harlan said. “Akiko McKittrick.”
“Dr. Sherman?” Sam asked. “What is this?”
Sherman clutched his hands together so tightly that his knuckles were white. “My Mary,” he whispered. “She’s…I’m sorry, Miss McKittrick,” he said to Akiko. “You look just like her when we were first married. You could be my Mary’s twin.”
Carmel Valley, San Diego, California
Saturday, January 28, 8:55 p.m.
Kit’s gaze went from Leo Sherman to Akiko and back again. If the man was faking it, he was a master actor. She didn’t think he was faking it.
Who was Mary Sherman to Akiko?
Was she Akiko’s mother?
That had, of course, occurred to Kit when Akiko had first told her about Mary Sherman’s phone call. It had occurred to her when she’d seen Mary’s driver’s license photo and the woman’s Facebook feed.
There had been a resemblance, to be sure.
But to see Leo Sherman’s face right now…
“Was Mary my sister’s mother?” Kit asked softly, because no one else was saying a word.
Akiko stood with Betsy’s arm tight around her shoulders. Both she and Betsy still stared at Sherman, who was dangerously pale.
“Rita!” Sam called. “I know you’re there listening.”
A teenage girl with blond hair streaked with pink and blue entered the room, her expression sheepish. “Sorry, Dr. Sam.”
Sam waved the apology away. “Can you get our guest a glass of water? And maybe something to eat? Cheese and crackers or something? But the water first.”
“On it.” Rita disappeared and Kit heard the activity of six teenagers snapping to attention in the kitchen.
They’d likely been listening to every word all evening. Kit couldn’t blame them. She’d have done the same at their age.
“Dr. Sherman,” Kit said softly, “can you tell us about your wife? All we know is that she called Akiko a little more than two weeks ago and said she’d known her mother.
They arranged to meet at a diner today, after what your wife said would be a trip out of town, but your wife didn’t show up. So we went to your house.”
Sherman quietly thanked Rita when she brought him a glass of water. “How did you know where I lived?”
“I reverse searched your wife’s phone number and found your address. All available online, sir.”
That she’d searched the police databases for photos, past arrest records, and gun ownership was something she’d keep to herself. She shouldn’t have done it, but she’d felt a visceral wrongness in her gut. And she’d been right.
The shots fired at them and the bullet hole in Mary Sherman’s forehead were proof positive.
“And when you got to my house?” Sherman asked.
“We knocked,” Kit said. “No one answered. I leaned in to listen at the door, which was a good thing. The first shot hit the door where my head had been.” She glanced at her father. “Sit down, Pop. You’re scaring me right now.”
Because Harlan had grown pale, just as he had the other times she’d shared this part of the story in his presence. But all the other times he’d been sitting down. Now he was swaying.
Sam was at his side before the words were out of her mouth, helping her father to a chair. But he returned to where Leo Sherman sat.
Just in case the man was a good actor. Sam would never let her be threatened if he could help it.
Many people thought that Sam Reeves was just a really nice guy. A golden retriever in a world filled with Dobermans. And he was a really nice guy. But he was so much more.
He’d saved her life in the not-too-distant past.
The man had her back. He was unfailingly loyal.
And for some reason, he wants me.
That still floored her.
Rita reappeared with a glass of water for Harlan and a plate of cheese and crackers for Dr. Sherman. Then she left the room, but Kit was certain that all the girls continued to listen.
Kit refocused on Dr. Sherman, who had politely moved the plate of food away from him. “I can’t eat,” he said apologetically. “But thank you. What happened next, Detective?”
“The next shot hit my arm,” Kit went on.
“Dr. Reeves and my sister, Akiko, both tried to shield me with their bodies and the shooting stopped. I don’t know if the shooter just ran or he was waiting to get another shot at me, but there were no more shots.
We didn’t know that at the time, though.
There was no cover. No place for us to hide. ”
“So you went into my house,” Sherman said, regaining some of his composure.
“The door was unlocked, sir,” Sam said. “We wouldn’t have trespassed had the situation not been so dire.”
“I understand,” Sherman said. “And then? You…found her?”
“Yes, sir,” Kit said. “I’m so sorry, but she was already gone. There wasn’t anything we could do. So we called 911 and waited for help.”
“You had a gun,” Sherman said.
Kit’s brows went up. “How did you know that?”
“I didn’t. I guessed. I know many off-duty detectives who carry their service weapons. Did the police confiscate yours?”
“They did.” She couldn’t assume that this man was too distraught to clearly think. He was more on the ball than she’d expected. “I hadn’t fired it in several days. Not since I went to the range for target practice. Ballistics will show that my gun was not the one that killed your wife.”
Sherman nodded once. “I believe you.” He turned to Akiko, who stood huddled against Betsy’s side. “What exactly did my wife say to you?”
“Only that she knew my mother,” Akiko murmured. “When I asked how she knew her, she said she’d tell me everything when we met in person. Was she…” She swallowed hard. “Was she my mother?”
“I don’t know,” Sherman admitted. “But you look just like she did when she was thirty, which is about how old you look now.”
“Thirty-two,” Akiko said numbly. “She would have been fourteen when I was born. I guess the box at the firehouse makes sense now.”
Sherman shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“My sister was left on the steps of a firehouse when she was just a baby,” Kit explained. “She and I both grew up in the foster system. We were adopted by our parents, Harlan and Betsy.”
“I was told that there was a piece of paper pinned to my blanket,” Akiko said, “with my first name written on it. I was also told that there had been a photo of my mother in the box with me, but that was lost long ago. I never even saw it.”
Kit had often wondered about the photo. Had it really existed?
She’d always thought the photo seemed like the kind of thing a foster parent might tell a kid, intending to soften the rejection.
If it had existed, was it really a photo of Akiko’s mother or someone else?
If there had been any name written on the back, it hadn’t been recorded anywhere. Might it have been a photo of Mary?
They’d probably never know, but the existence of a photo had always been a comfort to Akiko, so Kit had never questioned it out loud.
Sherman nodded silently, studying their faces one at a time.
Finally, he exhaled. “Something terrible happened to my wife when she was young. Before I met her. She would never tell me what that was. Sometimes she’d have nightmares, but she never shared with me what they were about.
Once, when she was coming out of sedation after dental surgery, she said she was sorry, so sorry.
That she did the only thing she knew to do.
But when she was fully lucid again, she said that she didn’t know what I was talking about.
My wife loved me. Of that I am certain. She loved our daughters.
Might she have had a child in her teenage years?
Perhaps. But I don’t know that much about her background.
” He rubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t think her name was actually Mary, though. ”