Cold-Blooded Liar (The San Diego Case Files Book 1)

Sam drove faster than he ever had before.

It’s going to be dangerous. You could get hurt. Killed.

But he wasn’t going to leave Kit McKittrick. Not until her backup arrived. She wasn’t herself. Which wasn’t a surprise. He knew enough of her story to know that she and all the McKittricks were reliving the abduction and murder of Kit’s foster sister.

They were less than ten minutes from their destination. For the first few minutes, Kit had been on the phone with her new partner.

Her backup was on its way, and Connor Robinson had been yelling at her to Stay put and to Go home and to Think, Kit, think. She’d told him that she was thinking and that if he wanted to help, to hurry his ass up.

Sam had nearly smiled.

She hadn’t said a word in the last ten minutes, so when she spoke, he startled.

“Why don’t you like to have your hands restrained?” she asked.

He hadn’t expected that question. “Long story.”

“Give me the abridged version. It was why you resisted arrest, wasn’t it?”

It was a story that he didn’t tell often. Laura had understood immediately because he’d shared the story with her. His parents knew, of course, as did Joel.

Sam didn’t like to share it, but he knew so many things about Kit McKittrick. It seemed only fair. And it might take her mind off her mounting anxiety. She was visibly vibrating in the passenger seat.

“I was beaten up back in high school. Prom night, actually.”

“Did they tie your hands?”

“Yeah.” He could see the scene in his mind as if it were yesterday and not seventeen years ago. “My car had a flat after the dance. On an isolated road.” He’d taken that route on purpose. He and Marley had wanted to be alone. He’d had the promise ring in his pocket. “I didn’t have a spare. I was with my girlfriend. I’d just proposed.” Because for him it had never been just a promise ring. He’d wanted to marry Marley for two years.

“Oh. You don’t need to tell me the rest.”

He shrugged like the memory didn’t cut soul deep. “Not much to tell. Assholes came along. At first, we hoped they were there to help us, but they weren’t.”

Her hand was suddenly on his arm. “Sam.”

“They were going to rape her,” he said, speaking about it as if telling a story that had happened to someone else. It was the advice he gave his clients now because it generally worked. “They held me down. One of them wanted to see how it felt to strangle someone with his bare hands, so he did that to her first. Killed her by mistake and made the others mad because they’d lost their turn. They were going to slit my throat, but another car came. They dropped the knife and ran.”

“Were they caught?”

“Yeah. Her killer is still in prison. The other two got out a few years ago but were back in a few months later for other crimes.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“Thank you.” Because what else could he say?

“Your struggle that night makes sense now. I’m sorry I put you through that. And then I showed you the video of Naomi Beckham being killed.” Her voice hitched. “I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t like it, but I understand why you did it.”

“So you became a psychologist . . . why? To stop evil people from being evil?”

“No. Evil people are always going to be evil.” They were approaching the turnoff for the park. “I specialized in criminal psychology because I wanted to help stop them before they hurt anyone. Or anyone else if they already had. I like to keep balance, so I also do therapy with the victims. Help them regain control.”

“And homeless kids, too?”

“Yes. Many of them have been victimized, too, in some way. That’s why they’re runaways and homeless.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry about the circumstances that made our paths cross, but I’m glad I met you. My first thought when I saw your photo ID was that you seemed sincere. That’s the word I still think. Don’t ever change.”

Her words were the balm he hadn’t realized he’d needed. “Thank you.”

He slowed the car only enough so that when they turned, they didn’t tip over. “Do you know where they’re doing the maintenance?” he asked.

“The rose garden. Park in the lot and I’ll walk the rest of the way. You need to stay in the car.”

“Okay,” he said. He’d park in the lot.

He was not staying in the car.

She was out of the Subaru before he put it in park. Closing the door quietly, he followed her.

She was running along the trail, following the signs to the rose garden, using her Maglite to light the way because there were no lamps anywhere around.

They came to an abrupt halt when they saw the vehicle ahead. It must have come through one of the other gates, because there was no sign that it had driven through the park the way they’d come. The vehicle’s headlights illuminated a small patch of ground.

Where a man stood, shoveling loose dirt into a pile.

He wasn’t standing in a hole, so he must have just started digging. He hadn’t buried Rita yet.

Sam knew that Kit wanted the girl to still be alive. So did Sam, but he knew the likelihood was low and he’d tried to prepare himself for that eventuality.

He knew he hadn’t, though. He kept seeing Rita’s face as she’d shared the photos of Snickerdoodle on her phone.

Don’t let her be dead.

He’d prayed the same prayer that night seventeen years ago, but Marley had already been gone.

The universe owed them a boon, him and Kit. And Rita, too.

Kit looked over her shoulder, glaring at him for not staying in the car before extinguishing her Maglite. Together, they crept along the darkened trail, coming up behind the RAV4 that was almost identical to Sam’s. Trying to frame me.

Sam was so glad he’d listened to Laura and Joel and hadn’t gone out by himself.

The man—John Scott—hadn’t heard them yet. His face was covered by the same balaclava that he’d worn when he killed Colton Driscoll.

Kit crept to the RAV4 and peeked inside. She glanced back at Sam and shook her head.

Dammit. Rita wasn’t in the SUV.

Kit rounded the SUV, staying out of the headlights. If Scott turned around now, he’d be blinded by the light. One fact in their favor.

Sam really wished he had his gun.

At least Kit had hers and she’d drawn it.

Dr. Scott froze and Sam’s heart stopped. Scott had heard them.

Kit had frozen, too, her head moving side to side as she searched for Rita in the dark.

Scott dropped his shovel and lurched to the right, out of the headlights. “Stay back!” he shouted. “I will kill her.”

He hadn’t yet. Sam’s knees nearly buckled in relief.

His relief evaporated a moment later because he could see Scott in the shadows and he had the girl in his grip, Rita’s wrists cuffed in front of her.

He was holding a gun to Rita’s head.

“You’ll kill her anyway!” Kit shouted back, her gun aimed at Scott.

“Maybe not,” Scott said, no longer shouting. “Do you want to take the chance?” he continued smoothly in a tone that Sam recognized well. It was Dr. Scott’s therapist voice. “Do you want to live with the consequences if I pull the trigger? Her blood would be on your hands, Kit.”

Kit stiffened and Sam wanted to tell her that Scott was bullshitting her. Scott had been Kit’s therapist and, while she hadn’t revealed to Sam what she’d told the man, guilt over her failings was a given.

It was always a given with cops.

Damn this bastard for using that against her.

Because it was working. Kit was faltering. Sam couldn’t see her face well, but he could see the outline of her body and her shoulders were slumping.

He wanted to scream for her not to listen. To follow her instincts. But he was her last resort. Her backup. Right now, he’d hold his tongue because she still had her weapon trained on Scott.

But she rallied, her spine straightening. “Let her go, Dr. Scott,” Kit said with a calm that surprised Sam. This was the McKittrick he’d read about. The detective who got results. “She’s just a child.”

“Just as I like them,” Scott taunted. “She was good, Kit. Gotta say. Great lay. Thank you for telling me about her.”

Kit was silent for too long and Scott laughed.

“You expected me to deny it?” he asked. “While I’m holding her in my arms? You thought I wouldn’t do to her what I did to all the others?”

“Why?” Kit asked and Sam realized that she was stalling for time. “Why do you use the pink handcuffs?”

Sam squinted. Were they pink? Had all the victims been handcuffed that way? Sam bet that was the case, that Scott had been taunting the cops for years with those pink cuffs.

Scott laughed. “You can thank your boss for that.”

Kit’s flinch was visible even in the near darkness. “Navarro?”

Scott chuckled. “Oh, yes. He was so frustrated that the first two victims he found had no connecting characteristics, even though he was sure it was the same doer. Such a dedicated young detective he was back then. Only a little older than you are now. So I gave him something flashy, just in case he found more of them. I even helped him find a few. The kid who found the dog walker wasn’t the first person I paid to play with metal detectors.”

This went so far beyond a betrayal of a client relationship. There were no words to describe how this would affect Dr. Scott’s clients.

Such a breach of trust.

“There were more?” Kit demanded. “Before the first body we found with pink handcuffs?”

“So many more. But not your Wren, if that’s what you’re wondering. I wish I had killed her, though. That would have been the icing on a very delicious cake. But I’ll make up for it with this one.” He tightened his hold on Rita.

“Why Rita?” Kit asked, still managing to sound calm. “She’s not your usual victim.”

“Because she’s yours. And because Reeves met her.”

What the fuck? How did he know that?

“How did you know that?” Kit demanded.

“Put your gun down, Detective,” Scott said. “You’re trying to stall until your backup arrives, and I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

Dammit.

“What will it take for you to let her go?” Kit asked.

Rita might not be alive, Sam wanted to scream, but he shifted his body until he could see Rita’s face in the shadows at the edge of the area lit by the headlights. Her eyes were open. She looked disoriented, but she was alive.

Kit had to have seen that, too.

Oh, Kit. Sam had no idea of how to help, but he edged closer, coming up behind Scott. Gotta figure something out. And fast.

“Drop your weapon, Kit,” Scott said loudly, but pleasantly.

“You’ll kill me.”

He shrugged. “You or her. Your choice.”

“How do I know you won’t kill her afterward?”

“You don’t. But I will kill her if you don’t drop your weapon. You’re here, Kit, so you know a lot more than I expected you did. I didn’t know you’d gotten so close. You don’t talk as much in session as Navarro does. He gave me so much information. All these years.”

Her jaw tightened. “You’ll leave her here? Alive? No one else will know.”

“After you’re dead?” Scott sounded amused.

No! Sam wanted to scream, then he realized what she’d just said. No one else will know.

I would know.

She’d said that for Sam. She wanted him to take care of Rita if Scott killed her.

Dammit, Kit. He crept a little closer, waiting for what, he didn’t know.

“If it will save her life, I will,” Kit said.

“She’s seen me, Kit,” Scott said mildly. “She’ll tell.”

“She’s disoriented. You drugged her. She won’t remember your face. Let her go and I won’t kill you. You have my word. Do I have yours?”

“Sure,” Scott said, still sounding chuffed. “But I am a liar, you know.”

“A cold-blooded liar,” she agreed. “I thought that was Colton Driscoll, but I know now that it was you all along. But you did help me once or twice. I’m hoping there’s enough decency left in you to let Rita live. She’s already been through so much.”

She was still stalling, Sam realized. She really was good at this. Navarro had to be getting close.

“Stop stalling, Kit,” Scott snapped. He tightened his hold on Rita and shoved the gun harder into her head. “Drop your gun, or she dies in front of you. You want to see that? I didn’t think so. Kick the gun away.”

Kit didn’t take her eyes off Scott as she placed her gun on the dirt, then kicked it way. “Now let her go.”

“No.” Scott pulled the gun from Rita’s head and pointed it at Kit.

Sam couldn’t breathe. And then he saw the shovel that Scott had discarded. Leaping for it, Sam grabbed the handle and swung the thing at Scott’s head in one motion, making contact with a sickening thud.

That was for Skyler, you motherfucker. And for all the others.

Scott staggered forward, falling to his knees. He still had both Rita and the gun, but he no longer pointed it at anyone.

So Sam hit him again.

Scott dropped the gun that time.

Sam kicked Scott’s gun away and, keeping hold of the shovel, grabbed Rita. Swinging her up into his arms, he carried her to the back of the RAV4, out of the line of fire. Just in case. He laid her gently on the ground, then ran back to Kit, raising his shovel again. Just in case Scott got his gun back.

But Kit had it under control. She’d retrieved her weapon and had Scott flat on his stomach, her knee in his kidney.

Sam had nearly forgotten what that knee had felt like. It had sucked.

That she was doing it to Scott made Sam happy. She slapped her handcuffs on Scott’s wrists, restraining his hands behind his back.

“Sorry they’re not pink,” she snarled. “You motherfucker.” She ripped his mask off. “You coward. Hurting girls. You’re disgusting.”

Scott turned his face to glare at her, his hatred apparent. But he said nothing.

Kit looked up and saw Sam. “Thank you,” she said, her voice breaking. “Thank you so much. Where is she?”

“Behind the SUV. She’s safe.”

She nodded once, rising to point her gun at Scott, as if he could magically get out of the cuffs. Maybe he could. Sam wasn’t negating any possibilities at this point. “Can you wait with her?” she asked. “She might be in shock.”

Sam should have thought of that. “Of course.” He hesitated for a moment, contemplating kicking Scott in the head for trying to frame him. But that wouldn’t do any good, so he backed away, confident that Kit had it under control.

He lowered himself to the ground next to Rita. “Hey, honey. You with me?”

Rita stared up at him, blinking dazedly. “Dr. Sam?”

“Yeah. You’re going to be okay.”

“Kit came for me.”

“Of course she did. She always will.”

As Sam’s heart slowed, he thought about the approaching police. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the only cop whose number, other than Kit’s, he had stored in his contacts.

“Yeah?” Baz answered, his voice tense.

“She’s okay,” Sam said. “We were in time. Rita’s alive and Kit’s got the bastard in cuffs.”

“Oh my God,” Baz said on a shuddered exhale. “Oh my God.”

Sam didn’t like the sound of the man’s breathing. “Are you all right, Detective?”

“Yes. I am now. I was so damn scared. Never been so damn scared in my life. She didn’t see it when we talked, but I was terrified.”

“You didn’t show it.”

“You went with her.”

Sam looked around the RAV4, able to see Kit standing guard, her gun still pointed at Scott. “Yeah, I did. Helped save the day, too. Hit Scott with a shovel.”

“You’re okay, Doc. And I am so sorry for threatening your dog.”

Sam laughed, aware that he sounded more than a little manic. “You already apologized. Can you call Navarro? I don’t have his number in my phone. Tell him we’re in the rose garden.”

“I’ll do that right now. Thank you, Sam. Thank you.”

Sam ended the call and dialed 911, reporting their location to Dispatch. He sounded pretty damn calm. Go me.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, sirens began to wail, growing louder. He could see flashing lights in the distance.

And then the beams of a dozen Maglites cutting through the darkness.

Detectives Navarro and Robinson were the first to arrive. Robinson ran to relieve Kit while Navarro dropped to his knees next to Rita and unlocked the cuffs.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Navarro said softly. “We have an ambulance coming.” He looked at Sam. “You want a job as a cop?”

He was joking, right? He had to be joking. “Um, no, thank you.”

Rita tugged on Sam’s hand and he bent down to listen. “He didn’t do it,” she whispered.

Sam frowned. “He didn’t do what?”

“Touch me. That way. At least I don’t think so. I know how it feels after.”

Sam went cold, his first thought that she shouldn’t know what sex—consensual or not—felt like. She was thirteen. Then he realized that Scott had lied again, trying to throw Kit off her game.

The man had been terrified of Kit, even while he’d held the power.

Navarro appeared stricken. “You do? How, honey?”

“Mom’s boss.”

Navarro’s jaw tightened. “We’ll talk more when you’re feeling better, but I can do something about that legally if you want.”

“Can you call Mom and Pop? I just wanna go home.”

“I don’t have their number,” Sam said, but Navarro handed Sam his phone. It was already ringing, Harlan’s name on the caller ID. Sam took the phone. “Rita’s fine. We got her,” he said as soon as Harlan answered.

A harsh sob was all that came through the line, but Sam could hear Betsy McKittrick demanding to know what had happened. Then she was on the line.

“Lieutenant Navarro?”

“No, it’s Sam Reeves. I have Navarro’s phone. Rita is here and she’s okay. She wants to come home. Kit’s fine, too.”

Betsy choked on a sob of her own. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said brokenly. “Where . . .” She cleared her throat. “Where can we meet them?”

“I’ll let you work out the details with Lieutenant Navarro.” Because Kit had come around the SUV. She fell to her knees and gathered Rita in her arms, rocking her. Kit’s face was twisted with relief, misery, and residual fear.

There were no tears on Kit’s face. She remained strong. Stoic. But brittle, like one more thing would shatter her into a million pieces.

Sam knew how she felt. He hesitated, then gently put his arm around her. He expected her to pull away, but she leaned into him, pressing her face to his neck as she held on to Rita for dear life. He wrapped his other arm around Rita and together they sheltered the girl, denying Scott the last look he sought as the cops dragged him down the trail to a squad car.

But Kit had turned her head, meeting Scott’s eyes, and Sam thought she might confront him one last time. But she simply watched Scott until the squad car’s taillights disappeared into the night. Sam was sure she’d pull away from him then, but she didn’t, instead leaning her head on his shoulder, her body finally relaxing.

She trusts me.

Sam felt ten feet tall, especially when Navarro gave them a disbelieving look as he walked by them. Sam suspected that Kit was not normally touchy-feely and that this behavior was unusual.

An incredible sense of peace washed over him, like this was the place he was supposed to be. Beside the person he was supposed to be with. He’d been certain that she was special from the moment he’d read the first article about her dedication to her job and her compassion for the victims. Everything she’d done since then had cemented that certainty.

That they’d done this thing together, that they’d made a killer pay, that they’d rescued Rita and made life safer for the rest of the girls . . . That made it even better.

But there was sadness, too. Because dozens of young women would never come home. Skyler would never come home. I’m so sorry.

His arms tightened when he felt Kit begin to tremble. The night was cool, but not cold. This was more likely an adrenaline crash, he thought. He saw new flashing lights approaching. The EMTs were coming. They’d take care of Rita and Kit. Until then, Sam wasn’t letting go.

Navarro appeared again, wordlessly draping a thermal blanket around the three of them before walking away.

Suddenly exhausted himself, Sam rested his cheek on top of Kit’s head. “I’ve got you,” he murmured. “It’s okay. You did it, Kit. He’ll pay for Rita and for all the girls.”

It was over. They’d done the hard part. They’d survived. Now it was time for the next hard part.

Healing.

Carmel Valley, California

Thursday, April 21, 7:25 a.m.

Kit woke up in her old bed at Mom and Pop’s house, feeling completely disoriented. Until she spied a cream-colored poodle with brown flecks on the other twin bed. Snickerdoodle was curled up at the foot of Rita’s bed, snuffling softly. Rita was safe.

She was also asleep, thankfully.

That was why Kit had slept over. Rita wouldn’t let go of her after her ordeal. Not that Kit could blame her. Rita had been drugged, abducted, handcuffed, and threatened at gunpoint. Who knew how much care and love it would take to get her past this?

But if anyone could, it would be Harlan and Betsy.

Kit and her parents had been up with Rita until about five a.m., giving her hugs. When the girl had finally closed her eyes out of sheer exhaustion, Kit had flopped into bed, still wearing her clothes from the day before. That she’d managed to take off her shoes had been an achievement.

Moving quietly, Kit reached for her phone, wincing at the number of texts she’d received in the few hours she’d managed to sleep. Most were from reporters, ravenous for an exclusive. Not just the local journalists, either. There were requests from all over the world. All the major networks plus the BBC and the CBC.

It was going to be an awful ride for a while. Dr. Scott was not only a serial killer; he was a media personality from LawTV. This is going to suck. She deleted all the reporters’ texts. Any interview she did would have to be arranged by the department, and even then, she’d balk.

The next text was from Connor. Checking in. U ok?

She smiled. If she’d had to have a temporary partner during this case, she was glad it had been Connor. Got a few hrs sleep, she replied. Rita is resting. Thx for everything yesterday.

There was a text from the captain, congratulating her on closing a case that had stymied an entire generation of homicide detectives. She thanked him politely.

There was nothing from Navarro and that worried her. He’d moved around the crime scene last night like an automaton. Navarro wouldn’t agree, but he was a victim of Scott, too. Not like the dead teenagers, but a victim nonetheless.

Normally, she’d think “ripples.” But Scott’s actions directly targeted her boss. Using the pink handcuffs just to taunt Navarro was beyond sick and cruel. After this, they’d probably all need therapy, but she bet that none of them would be trusting a shrink anytime soon.

Of course, the next text was from the one shrink who’d earned her trust. He’d been there for her last night. Had been there for Rita. He hadn’t left her when she’d needed him.

How is Rita? Hoping you get some rest. And hoping we can talk for real sometime now that I’m no longer a suspect.

Kit smiled, because a minute later he’d texted: I *am* no longer a suspect, RIGHT? Followed by the scared emoji.

Right 🙂, she texted back. Let’s have a drink sometime. She’d need to debrief him. She owed him that much.

His reply was immediate. Tomorrow?

Saturday, she countered.

Sorry, folks here all day Saturday. Golfing w/my dad. Sunday?

Sorry. I have family dinner at noon.

Then coffee? 10 am Sunday?

Coffee worked. Sounds good, she texted, thinking that would be the end of it.

His reply was, once again, immediate. It’s a date.

Her mouth opened and closed as she stared at the three little words on her phone screen. It’s. A. Date.

Oh my God. What did I just do?

Whatever you did, undo it. Now.

But he’d saved her life last night. She couldn’t say No, it’s not a date. That would hurt his feelings, and she’d done enough of that already.

She wanted to groan, but Rita was still asleep. Don’t panic. You can fix this.

But do you want to?

That thought hit her like a brick, knocking her out of her panicked spiral. Did she want to fix it? Or did she want to have a date with Sam Reeves? Sweet, kind, sincere Sam Reeves with his green eyes and nerdy Clark Kent glasses? Who was no longer a suspect?

Maybe?

She was still staring at her phone, trying to decide what she wanted to do, when a new text came in from Baz.

We need to talk. It’s important. Can I call?

That didn’t sound good. New worry for Baz layered over the panic about Sam, which had settled over the fatigue due to Rita. Give me 5. At Mom and Pop’s. Need to go outside.

She rolled out of her old bed and shoved her feet into her shoes. Snick looked up for a moment before settling back onto Rita’s bed with a delicate snore.

Kit blew her a kiss.

You need to spend more time with your dog.

She grimaced as she went down the stairs because she’d heard those words in Dr. Scott’s voice, which had been distasteful even before she’d known he was a raping, murdering monster. It would probably be a long time before she worked him out of her brain. That would probably make him smugly happy.

Asshole.

The kitchen was quiet, maybe for the first time in Kit’s memory, which was weird. But Mom needed to sleep, too. Someone was up, because a pot of coffee sat on the coffee maker and it was still warm.

Akiko, probably. Kit poured herself a cup and added a lot of sugar because she needed it this morning. Looking out the window, she saw that Akiko’s Subaru was gone. Her sister had a charter today, so she was on her way to the marina.

I should help her more often, too. No more working myself into an early—

Kit closed her eyes. Early grave. How many times had Scott said those words to cops while secretly smirking about the grave he’d just dug?

Asshole.

Taking her coffee, she went to the barn and, feeling strangely young again, slid the door open just enough to squeeze through. She drew a deep breath of hay-scented air before sitting on one of the bales.

Baz, you better not be dying, she thought as she dialed him on FaceTime. She’d watch his face while he talked because she could always tell if he was minimizing a problem.

No, you can’t. He hid a heart condition from everyone.

Dammit.

“Kit.” His face filled her screen. He was smiling, but tentatively. His eyes were bright, though, even if his skin was a little sallow. “Good morning.”

His hospital bed was his backdrop, but he had a cup of coffee in his hand. “Good morning to you, too. Are you drinking coffee, Baz? Really? Did your doctor say that was okay?”

“It’s decaf,” he said glumly.

She chuckled, despite her concern. “I’m sorry. Mine’s not.”

“Rub it in, why don’t you?”

Her smile faded, because something was not right. “Okay, so are we done with morning banter? You’ve got me scared, Baz. What’s so important?”

“I wanted you to hear it from me because things are already going up on Facebook.”

Don’t panic. “What things?”

“I’m retiring.”

She stared at his face, hoping to see a twinkle in his eye. He threatened to retire all the time, but it was always a joke. This time, though, he was serious. “When? Why?” When he didn’t answer right away, she blurted, “Are you dying?”

He smiled at that. “No, Kit. I’m not dying. But I could have. I’ve been thinking a lot about the time I have left and how I should be using it. I’m retiring effective May first, but I have vacation to use, so it’s really effective immediately.”

Her heart was in her throat. He was retiring.

“Kit?” He leaned into his phone’s camera. “Say something.”

Her mouth worked, but no words would come out and she couldn’t stop the tears that filled her eyes.

“Kit, no,” he whispered. “Don’t. Please.”

He was right. She needed to pull herself together. “Sorry. Just a shock. I guess I should have seen it coming, huh?”

“I didn’t,” Baz said honestly. “I’ve spent more time with Marian this week than I have in years. It only took a heart attack to make it happen. She deserves better, Kit. So do my daughter and my granddaughter. I want to see Luna grow up.”

“I understand.” And she did. Still . . . She drew a breath and pasted on a smile. “Gonna take up golfing?”

Baz shuddered. “Hell, no. But I might call Akiko and set up a fishing trip. Last time we went fishing was when you made detective.”

Akiko had hosted the celebration party on her boat. “That was a nice day. You deserve all the nice days, Baz.” Her lips trembled and she firmed them. “So it’s on Facebook already?”

He made a face. “Marian is so excited. She’s already planning my retirement party and a cruise.”

“A cruise, too? You jet-setter, you.”

They went silent for a long moment, then Kit sighed. “You’ve been in my life for sixteen years, Baz. I’m not sure how to be a cop without you.”

“That’s fucking ridiculous,” he stated. “You are a damn good cop and would have been no matter who trained you. I was lucky it got to be me.” He shrugged awkwardly. “And I get to go out on a bang. A serial killer is behind bars. I mean, you solved the case, but I trained you, so I get to claim at least partial credit.”

“You were there with me, old man. Full credit.”

“That’s not exactly true, but I’ll take it. Connor did well, huh?”

“He did.” She narrowed her eyes. “Is he my new partner?”

Baz looked up at the ceiling. “I didn’t say that.”

She huffed. “Who did?”

“The captain. He stopped by an hour ago, so I told him my retirement plans. He wanted to check on me and congratulate me on the case.” He hesitated. “He also wanted to tell me that Navarro’s taking a leave of absence.”

Kit gaped. “What?”

“He’s not in a good place, Kit. He’s blaming himself for Scott killing those girls. Says that if he hadn’t been feeding the bastard information, they might have been able to catch him faster.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yeah, but it’s how he feels. The captain said he’d be telling you later, too. So act surprised. I wasn’t supposed to let that out of the bag.”

“I’ll try. So . . . when did you decide on this retirement?”

“A few days ago, but I sat on it until last night.”

“What happened last night?”

“I was able to help you get past your panic, so you’d see what you needed to do. I realized that I’ve been hanging around because I didn’t want to leave you all alone. But, Kit, you’re a superstar. You’re only going to get better.”

She scowled at the compliment. “If you’re going to say I don’t need you, just . . . don’t.”

“I wasn’t. I was going to say that I consulted with you last night. I can do that anytime you need me. I’ll be a phone call away. I don’t have to leave you all alone.”

But you are. “I won’t abuse the privilege. I don’t want to face Marian’s wrath.”

Baz mock shuddered. “Who does?” His expression softened. “You did good, Kit. Your gut was spot-on this whole time.”

She rolled her eyes. “Hardly. Scott fooled me.”

“He fooled everyone. But you believed in the good shrink from day one.”

One side of her mouth lifted. “The good shrink? Is that what we’re calling him now?”

His smile was sweetly paternal. “You can call him Sam.”

And I have a date with him on Sunday.

I’m not ready for this. Then a thought occurred. “If Connor’s my new partner, what’s happening to Howard?”

“He’s retiring, too. Captain told me. He’s met a lady.”

“In baking class?”

“Yes, actually. She was taking the class with her daughter, but the woman lives on the East Coast and was only visiting.” His smile dimmed. “I heard that Howard snapped yesterday when he was watching those videos you found in Driscoll’s backyard. Said he was done. The lady wanted him to move back east with her, but he was waiting till fifty-five. The videos changed his mind. He submitted his resignation yesterday. Said life was too short.”

Kit sighed. “Lots of changes, and that means new people. It’s gonna suck, Baz.”

“You’ll survive. You always do.” His gaze shifted and his face lit up. “Gotta go. My granddaughter’s here. We’ll talk soon.”

He ended the call and she sat on the hay bale, staring at her phone.

He was leaving. Really leaving.

“Hey, Kitty-Cat.”

Kit looked up to find Harlan standing in front of her. Hay clung to his work pants and he had a block of wood in one hand, his carving knife in the other. The stall door was open. “Were you here all along?”

“Sorry. I should have said something.”

“Nah. I would have told you anyway.”

He sat next to her on the bale. “Big changes,” he murmured. “You gonna be okay?”

She shrugged. “I have to be.”

“Change is scary, but it can be good.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “What are you driving at, Pop?”

He pulled his phone from his pocket and handed it to her with a wince. “Best you see it now.”

She stared at a phone screen for the third time in less than an hour. This time at an article. “Tamsin Kavanaugh,” she seethed. The photo the woman had taken was a little grainy, but Kit and Sam holding Rita was still clear. At least Rita’s face couldn’t be seen because she and Sam had their arms around her.

But Kit’s face was pressed into Sam’s neck and they looked cozy together. Intimate.

“Fuck,” she whispered.

And I have a date with him on Sunday.

“You gonna bolt?” Harlan asked mildly. “Because you look like you’re gonna bolt.”

Kit shuddered out a breath. “I might.” This wasn’t okay. “But if I bolted, I couldn’t get revenge on Tamsin Fucking Kavanaugh.”

Harlan pressed a kiss to her temple. “You should be pitying her. Her mother was awful to give her that middle name.”

Kit laughed, but it came out as a sob. Her life had completely spiraled out of control. Navarro was on leave, Baz was retiring, Connor was her new partner, her damn photo was online looking cozy, and she had a date with sincere Sam Reeves.

“What am I gonna do, Pop?”

“What you always do, Kit. You’re going to live. And I’m going to help you any way I can.”

The tears spilled. “Pop.”

He put his arm around her. “It’ll be okay, Kitty-Cat. I promise.”

“Don’t go anywhere, okay? Please.”

“Not planning on it. Now, let’s go put some breakfast on. Mom deserves the morning off.”

“Pancakes?” They were her go-to comfort food.

“Absolutely.”