Chapter Eleven #3
“She might not know. I think she’s put it behind her, but I’ve kept up with them. One of them ended up in prison, where he was beaten to death.”
“Good,” Sam said viciously, taking out his anger on the vegetables he was chopping for the omelet. Die, bell peppers, die.
“Like I said, I knew I liked you. The other had an aneurysm or something. Didn’t suffer.”
“Too bad.”
“I agree.” Harlan took out his phone and tapped the screen. “I just sent you the contact info for the social worker who placed Akiko with us. Wren had been gone for a few months and we hadn’t filled her bed. We…” He sighed. “We couldn’t.”
Sam heard the sorrow in Harlan’s voice. All these years later, he still mourned Wren, the girl he hadn’t been able to save. “I understand.”
“Then Kit’s social worker called and said she had a girl who needed a home.
She was Kit’s age—and Wren’s age, of course—and was in a bad place.
She was a skilled martial artist who had used her skill to defend herself against a predatory foster father.
Same story, different day. So many good foster parents out there, but the bad ones are the ones people remember. ”
Sam whipped the eggs and poured them into the pan. “I think every person who’s been through McKittrick House remembers you. You’ve made a difference in so many lives.”
Harlan’s smile was fond. “Thank you, Sam. That’s all Betsy and I set out to do.
Make a difference. Anyway, the social worker told me about this girl, Akiko.
That she’d really hurt her foster father.
The social worker had convinced the man not to press charges, but she had no proof of the man’s wrongdoing other than Akiko’s word.
She believed Akiko and was investigating the foster father but wanted her somewhere safe in the meantime.
She’d held off calling us for any placements because we were still grieving Wren, but Betsy and I agreed it was time.
We said yes to Akiko’s placement with us.
The only special request was that we provide her with transportation to her dojo in the city once a week.
That was no issue and Akiko settled in quickly.
Well, except the feud she had with Kit.”
“Kit said she wasn’t ready for another roommate.”
“Kit wouldn’t have ever been ready. She was…well, less than kind to Akiko at the beginning.”
“She told me.”
“Really? Well, they worked it out and the two of them became thick as thieves. And when Akiko got her driver’s license, we gave her car privileges so she could take herself to the dojo. Kit always went with her, though.”
Sam glanced over his shoulder in surprise. “Kit studied with her? I know Akiko’s shown her a few moves, but I didn’t realize Kit had been a student.”
Harlan chuckled. “Not a student. Not a formal one, anyway. Kit wasn’t a fan of the discipline Ito required of his students. She chafed at it. Couldn’t take the bowing. She’d take Akiko and watch her like a hawk.”
“Ah. Making sure she stayed safe. Because of Wren.”
“She’s not all that difficult to figure out,” Harlan said.
Sam plated the omelet and slid it in front of Harlan, then sat at the table to finish his coffee.
Sam, Kit, and Baz had already eaten. Baz was on the phone with his wife, trying not to land in the doghouse for his part in Kit’s off-the-record investigation.
Seemed like neither she nor Baz did well with authority.
“I’ve always wondered why Kit joined the Coast Guard. That required discipline.”
“Well, sure. But that was the military and she accepted that. Plus she wanted the money for school, so she swallowed her natural urge to buck authority.”
Sam thought of Navarro, of the mess Kit had found herself in. “I think that her inclination to fight authority is a factor in Navarro’s behavior right now.”
“You could be right. But Kit’s a damn fine cop.
She has the highest percentage of closed cases in Navarro’s department.
They won’t fire her, but they can make her life difficult.
She’s going to need to meet with Navarro, bring him up to speed.
Especially since she hasn’t told Navarro that Nicchi shot the shooter outside Ella Sherman’s house on Sunday. ”
Sam winced. That conversation wasn’t going to go well. “I told her that I’d go with her. She plans to do that today.”
“Good. On both things. When will you see Navarro?”
“I don’t know. Probably after we contact this social worker. We also want to track down Paolo. Did he ever call Akiko back?”
“No, and she’s worried about him. It’s not like him to ghost her. He’d mentioned a charter this morning, but her boat’s remained docked. She had to deal with issuing refunds to a number of very angry customers.”
“Paolo disappears at the same time that Ito is beaten? I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I. My bet is that Ricky Nicchi is off searching for his brother. I dislike the man for not sharing what he knows—especially because it puts Akiko in danger—but he’s got to be feeling stressed. Mary is murdered, Ito is beaten, and Paolo disappears? That’s a lot.”
Sam knew he should feel sorry for Nicchi, but he really didn’t. “Why isn’t he telling us what’s happening? None of this ‘it’s Hanshi’s story to tell’ bullshit. What is this guy hiding?”
Kit came into the kitchen, her phone at her ear. “He’s not the only one hiding something. I’m putting you on speaker, Connor. Sam and my dad are here.”
“Hey, guys,” Connor said. “I reviewed the traffic cams again and guess who else went to Nicchi’s address?”
“Just tell us, Connor,” Harlan said wearily. “I’m too tired for guessing games.”
“I’m sorry, sir,” Connor said, sounding contrite. “Leo Sherman.”
Sam blinked. “Wait, what? Mary’s husband followed her to LA?”
“Yes,” Connor confirmed. “In December.”
Sam met Kit’s gaze. “That’s very interesting.”
“Isn’t it?” Her eyes were sharp and calculating. “I think we need to pay the good doctor another visit.”
“Tell Navarro everything first,” Harlan said. “Please.”
“Okay, Pop.” Kit blew out a breath. “But I’ll have to make something up about who got the information that led us to Nicchi. I’m not throwing Connor under the bus.”
“He’s going to figure out that it was me,” Connor said. “He never told me not to help you. Easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.”
Sam would bet that Connor hadn’t studied martial arts, either. Connor, Kit, and Baz were like Wild West gunslingers. “This is going to be fun.”
“It’s past time,” Harlan said.
“I know.” Kit sighed. “I better start working on my résumé.”
Sam reached for her hand and squeezed it. “He’s not going to fire you. You might get demoted, though.”
For a moment Kit looked unbearably sad, and then she squared her shoulders, a mutinous set to her jaw. “Then I might as well make it worth the punishment.”
Harlan groaned. “Kit. Just…wear a vest. Please.”
She kissed Harlan’s cheek. “Will do. I promise.”
But a vest wouldn’t have protected her if the shooter had been a little more accurate on Sunday at Ella’s house. It would have been a headshot and she wouldn’t have survived it. That the shooter hadn’t succeeded on Sunday was due to Nicchi’s interference.
Sam’s irritation at the man lessened dramatically. Nicchi had saved Kit’s life. Sam would have to cut him a little slack.
But only a little.
“You ready to go back to San Diego?” Sam asked.
“I am. Let me get Baz. Marian found out about his involvement and called him from the Panama Canal. He’s still groveling. Gotta go, Connor. Thanks for the intel.”
She ended the call and left the kitchen, leaving Harlan and Sam alone.
“Go to bed, Harlan. You’re no good to anyone if you keel over.”
“I think I will.” Harlan rose, then swayed on his feet. “Keep me updated, please. Kit forgets sometimes.”
“I promise.”