Cold-Blooded Liar (The San Diego Case Files Book 1)
Cold-Blooded Liar: Chapter 15

Joel stared up at Sam from the weight bench in his home gym, hands gripping the barbell still in its rack. “You think Driscoll buried shit in his backyard? What did McKittrick say?”

Sam frowned at his phone. “I’ve been calling her ever since we left Veronica Gadd’s apartment. She’s not picking up.”

Laura had dropped Sam off a few minutes before, waiting until he was in Joel’s house before heading back to the Epsteins’ house to take them to their rental car.

“That’s not like Kit,” Joel said. “Did you text her, too?”

“Several times.” His frown deepened. “Do you think she’s okay?”

Joel snorted. “McKittrick can take care of herself. Trust me.”

Sam remembered how easily she’d swept him off his feet—literally. It was embarrassing. “Oh, I know.”

Joel grinned. “I guess you do.” Then he slid out from under the barbell and grabbed his phone. “She might have gone to visit Baz in the hospital. Don’t they make you turn your phone off in the hospital?”

“Only in the ICU, but I didn’t think Constantine’s heart attack was that bad.”

“I didn’t think so, either.” Joel dialed a number and listened before hanging up. “Voice mail. I’ll call the hospital and ask for his room. Did you try calling Navarro?”

“I left a message on his office voice mail. I didn’t have his cell phone number.”

Within another minute, Joel was asking for Baz Constantine’s room, and then he put it on speaker. “Hey, Baz,” he said when the detective answered. “It’s Joel Haley. I’m trying to reach Kit. Is she there?”

“She was, but she left about twenty minutes ago. Said she was going home.”

“To her boat?”

She lives on a boat? Sam fought a shudder. Boats were not his favorite. All that water. One wrong step off a boat and a person could drown. Give him a desert any day of the week.

“No,” Baz was saying. “She said she was going to see her folks. Is everything okay?”

“It is,” Joel assured him. “I have some info for her on one of her cases.”

“She said you caught the Mendoza murder case.”

“I did. Robinson and Cook did a good job on that case. It’s not a slam dunk because the asshole already has a team of expensive lawyers, but it’s solid.”

“Good. But it was Kit who got the case reopened.” The man’s pride was clear and softened Sam’s remaining resentment. “You take care of little Rita,” Baz went on, his voice gruff. “She found her mama. Kids never get over something like that, no matter how good the McKittricks are to them.”

“I know,” Joel said quietly. “I’ll do my very best. Take care, Baz.” Joel ended the call and stood up. “Give me two minutes to change my clothes and we’ll go.”

Sam followed him, standing outside Joel’s closet as his friend’s exercise clothes came flying out the door, hitting the floor. “Go where?”

“To the McKittricks’ house. I have their phone numbers in Rita’s mother’s case file, but I don’t have that with me. I do, however, know where they live.”

“How?” Sam asked warily.

Joel left the closet wearing a pair of dress slacks and buttoning up a shirt. “I go there for holiday dinners sometimes. Kit invited me when she found out that my folks were gone.”

“Oh.” Sam wasn’t sure how he felt about that. “I thought she said no to dating.”

“She did, but she said that friends didn’t let other friends spend Thanksgiving alone. You were in Scottsdale with your parents or I’d have tried to get you an invite, too. That was a few years ago.” He pulled on his socks and shoved his feet into another pair of very expensive shoes. “Since then, I have an open invitation to their house. You can talk to Kit and I’ll chat with Harlan. I need to arrange for them to bring Rita to my office so I can get her statement.”

“Rita’s the girl whose mother was murdered.”

Joel grabbed his wallet and keys. “Yeah. Thirteen years old now, but she was only eleven when she found her mother’s body.”

Sam’s heart clenched. “Poor kid.”

“Yeah, but at this point there’s no better place for her than the McKittricks’.”

Sam followed Joel to his car, waiting until they were on the interstate before asking the question that wouldn’t leave his mind.

“You’re sure you’re just friends?”

Joel smirked. “Why, Sammy? You got plans you want to share?”

“No.” But he knew that he’d said it too quickly and with too much force because Joel’s smirk widened into a knowing grin. Dammit. But he’d replayed that moment in front of the Epsteins’ house a thousand times since it had happened. She’d blushed.

And fled.

He’d felt a spark and he thought she had, too. He’d caught her staring at him before she’d run away. There had been interest in her eyes. He was sure of it.

“Sam?” Joel prompted.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I don’t think she trusts me.”

“Give her time. But if she says no, don’t take it personally. I mean, she resisted me, after all.”

Sam laughed. “She must have a will of steel.”

“What else could it be? We’ll be at the McKittricks’ in about twenty. Go over what you found out today again. In detail.”

So Sam did, and if he took special care to remember the route to the McKittricks’ house, he was only filing it away for future reference. In case he came across a kid who needed a good foster home.

It was a nice place, he thought as Joel drove them up the country road leading to the family farm. It looked like a farmhouse out of a painting, warm and inviting, with lights burning in most of the windows and a lit porch light. There was a barn a short distance from the house and fenced pastures, clear and sharp in the moonlight.

“This seems like a perfect place for kids,” Sam murmured.

“It is. And Harlan and Betsy are the whole package. But be careful of Betsy. She’ll mother you with food.”

Sam smiled. “As long as she cooks better than my mother, that’s cool.”

Joel grimaced. “She couldn’t cook much worse.”

“True.” Sam followed Joel up to the front door, looking around. “Do you see Kit’s car?”

Joel’s gaze swept from side to side. “Huh. I don’t actually. She drives a Subaru Outback.”

Sam looked at the four vehicles parked in the driveway. “They’re all Subaru Outbacks, Joel.” Which was odd, wasn’t it?

“Yeah. One of the McKittricks’ former foster sons owns a Subaru dealership and gets them discounts. Hers is blue, though. I wonder if she’s left already.”

“Maybe we should leave,” Sam said doubtfully.

“Nah. I can still talk to Harlan about Rita.” Joel knocked on the front door. “I bet we can even wrangle some pie from Betsy. She always has pie.”

But Sam wasn’t so sure. This was Kit’s family. Her safe place. He was intruding. He’d taken a step back when the door opened to a very large man. He had to be six-two with broad shoulders and eyes with prominent laugh lines.

“Joel Haley! What are you doing here, son?”

This must be Harlan McKittrick.

“Came looking for Kit, actually,” Joel said, shaking the man’s hand. “But I was hoping I could have a moment to talk to you about Rita as well.”

“Heard you got the case. I was relieved.” Harlan opened the door wider. “Come in. Who’s your friend?”

“This is Sam Reeves.” Joel waved a hand between them. “He’s working a case with Kit.”

Sam could see the moment Harlan figured it out. “The CI,” he murmured, as if to himself. Then he smiled again. “Welcome, Dr. Reeves. Please, come in.”

“Harlan?” a woman called. “Who’s at the door?”

“Joel and his friend, Sam Reeves,” Harlan called back.

“Kit’s Sam?”

Sam’s eyes popped wide. What?

Joel was looking like he was trying not to smile, and Harlan’s lips twitched. “One and the same,” Harlan said.

“Well, don’t dally,” she said. “Bring them into the kitchen.”

And that was how Sam found himself at a large kitchen table that appeared to be hand carved. A plump woman with a smile as big as Harlan’s was bustling around, grabbing plates and mugs.

“You’ll want some coffee,” she said. “Please sit.”

“You don’t have to do that, Betsy,” Joel said.

She threw an amused look over her shoulder. “But you won’t say no, will you?”

Joel grinned. “Never, ma’am.” He sat and pointed to an empty chair. “Sam.”

Sam sat, feeling overwhelmed. “Thank you,” he said when Betsy put a steaming mug of coffee in front of him, followed by a slab of pie that smelled so good that his mouth watered. “Apple pie is my favorite.”

“Good,” she said and, after serving everyone else, she joined them. “What’s up, boys?”

“We were looking for Kit,” Joel said around a mouthful of pie. “Baz said she was coming home to see you tonight.”

The McKittricks shared a worried glance. “She’s not here,” Harlan said. “Haven’t seen her since last night. I was up when she left, but she was in a hurry and we didn’t get a chance to talk.”

Because she was rushing to call me, Sam thought.

Joel nodded. “Can you call her, Harlan? She might be screening her calls if she’s working, but she’ll answer for you.”

Harlan nodded slowly, then turned his gaze to Sam. “He’s okay?” he asked Joel.

“He is, sir. I vouch for him personally. He’s my best friend.”

“All right, then.”

“Mrs. McK?” a small voice asked.

They all turned to replace a girl standing in the doorway. Her sandy blond hair was streaked with a rainbow of colors, but her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed. She’d been crying and Sam’s heart hurt to see it.

“Rita,” Betsy said, getting up to put her arm around the girl. “Did you have a good nap?”

“Yeah,” Rita mumbled. “But I missed dinner.”

Betsy kissed the top of the girl’s head. “I saved you some. Have a seat, sweetie. I’ll warm up your plate. What about you boys? Dr. Reeves, you’re looking a little peaked, if I might be so bold.”

“He hasn’t eaten,” Joel said.

Sam opened his mouth to argue, but Betsy was already fixing him a plate, too.

Rita sat, eyeing Sam and Joel cautiously.

“I’m Joel Haley,” Joel said, extending his hand over the table.

Rita shook it, still wary. “The prosecutor on my mom’s case?”

“Yes. I was hoping to set up some time that you can come to my office. We’ll get your formal statement.”

Rita glanced at Harlan, who nodded. “Okay,” she said. “When?”

“Tomorrow, if you can swing it. When are you done with school?”

Rita sucked in a harsh breath, her expression closing. “Today.”

Harlan sighed. “We might be in a homeschool situation. We’ll see.”

Rita had dropped her gaze to her hands. At some point she’d pulled a small carving from a pocket because she was holding it in one hand and stroking it with the other. It was an oyster, wide open with a pearl inside.

“That’s a pretty carving,” Sam commented quietly. “I’ve never seen one like it.”

Again the girl’s gaze shifted to Harlan. “Mr. McK made it for me. My name means ‘pearl.’ ”

Sam smiled at her. “Then it’s a priceless gift.”

Harlan stroked a big hand over the girl’s hair. “Just like our Rita.”

Rita dropped her gaze again, and Harlan’s eyes grew sad. This child’s pain was palpable, and Sam wanted to help her but wasn’t sure what to say.

“Let me call Kit and we’ll sort this out.” Harlan excused himself into the living room, leaving the table quiet.

Rita started in on the plate Betsy put in front of her, pausing when a standard poodle sauntered in like it owned the place. “Snick,” Rita said reprovingly. “You’re not supposed to be in the kitchen.”

“Only when I’m cooking,” Betsy said. “She can come in when you’re eating unless you don’t want her to.”

Rita’s free hand found the dog’s curly head. “No. She can stay.”

“Snick?” Sam asked.

“Short for Snickerdoodle,” Betsy said. “Kit’s dog. Left her here last night because Snick had fallen asleep with Rita.”

“She hogs the bed,” Rita muttered, but a tiny smile curved her lips.

“The famous Snickerdoodle,” Sam said, then dug in his pocket for a treat. “My dog, Siggy, got one of her treats, so maybe she’d like one of Siggy’s.”

Rita’s eyes widened as she took the treat. “You know about Snickerdoodle?”

“We’ve never met, but yes. I know of her.” He held his hand under the table for the poodle to sniff and was rewarded with a delicate lick. “She’s a real lady.”

“She is,” Rita said fondly, then snuck a bite of her dinner to the dog.

Betsy just shook her head as she put a plate of something wonderful in front of Sam. “Eat this first, Dr. Reeves. Then you can have some apple pie.”

His stomach growled. “Chicken pot pie? One of my favorites.”

“Mine too,” Rita said.

Betsy sat with them, hiding a smile behind her coffee mug. “No more of the people food to Snick, Rita. Or you’ll be cleaning up the aftereffects.”

Rita made a face. “Okay, Mrs. McK.” She eyed Sam again, less warily this time. “Do you have a picture of Siggy?”

Sam scoffed. “Only a million. Most of them are on my other phone, though. But you can look at the ones I’ve taken in the past few days.” He offered Rita his phone, opened his photo app, and dug into his own dinner as she smiled at Siggy’s antics.

“He’s got a stick in his mouth in every picture,” she said.

“That’s why he’s named Siggy. Short for Sigmund, like the famous psychologist. He smoked cigars.”

Rita chuckled softly. “It does look like your dog’s got a cigar. That’s so cute.” She pulled out her own phone to the pictures she’d taken of Snickerdoodle and Sam oohed and aahed over them while Betsy looked on approvingly.

Joel put his plate in the sink. “I’ll go talk to Harlan and leave you guys to talk dogs. Sam can talk about Siggy for hours.”

When he was gone, Rita gave Betsy an anxious look. “Is he a good lawyer?”

Betsy nodded. “He is.”

“Definitely,” Sam agreed, giving the girl her phone. “He’s my best friend so I’m probably biased, but your mom’s case is in good hands, Rita.”

“Won’t bring her back,” she muttered.

Sam swallowed hard, his eyes stinging. “No, but he can get her justice.”

She met his eyes, hers grim and far older than they should have been. Ripples, he thought. Ripples that had become rogue waves. This child had been swamped by them, her life overturned.

“I want him to pay.”

“So do I,” Sam said and had never meant anything more.

SDPD, San Diego, California

Tuesday, April 19, 8:00 p.m.

“Detective, please have a seat.” Dr. John Scott waved Kit to a chair in the office he kept in the SDPD headquarters. He was about Baz’s age, so midfifties, even though he looked a lot younger, his hair still dark and the skin around his eyes devoid of wrinkles. He was a handsome man, his face now recognizable by millions thanks to his appearances on the legal TV shows. He made a very credible expert witness and audiences loved him. Cops, not so much. Mostly because they were forced to bare their souls to him. It was humiliating.

She sat, forcing a smile to her face. “Thank you for seeing me so late.”

He sat behind his desk, his smile calm, putting her instantly on high alert.

No, she’d been on high alert ever since she’d driven away from Sam Reeves. It had been all she could do not to blurt the whole thing to Baz when she’d visited him in the hospital before this appointment. He’d known something was up, but he hadn’t pressed her on it, for which she was grateful.

He had pushed when she’d gotten up to leave, pouting because she couldn’t stay longer. She hadn’t wanted to tell him that she was coming to see Scott, because Baz would have worried. Or been annoyed on her behalf, because Baz didn’t like coming to see him, either. So she’d lied for the first time ever to her partner, saying that she was going home to McKittrick House.

“It’s no problem,” Dr. Scott said affably. “My assistant told me that you seemed surprised when she told you I was available so late. Almost like you’d thrown out a time that you thought I’d refuse.”

Kit’s cheeks heated, but she didn’t look away. Do not show weakness. Do not let him in.

She always said that to herself, but then he always seemed to be able to weasel around her best intentions, dragging details out of her mouth that she hadn’t wanted to share.

“Maybe,” she allowed. “I’m really busy right now.”

“I heard. I think everyone’s heard that you’re working the serial killer case—a case that a lot of other detectives have worked on over the years.” He smiled sadly. “I’ve been around a long time. You’re not the first detective to sit in my office after replaceing the body of a teenage blonde buried in a park.”

Navarro, she thought. That Homicide hadn’t caught this killer weighed heavily on him. “I suppose not.”

Dr. Scott waited for her to say more, but she kept her mouth firmly shut. His lips quirked up. “You have to talk to me, Detective,” he said, sounding mildly amused, “or our time doesn’t count.” He tilted his head. “How do you feel, knowing so many detectives before you have tried to solve this case but have been unable to?”

She considered his question carefully. “It’s a huge responsibility and I’m feeling that.”

He nodded, seeming satisfied with the answer. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less. How are you sleeping?”

She held his gaze, having expected that question. “Okay.”

He held up a finger, wagging it. “Honesty, Detective.”

She huffed. “Fine. Not well. Is that what you want to hear?”

“No, because I don’t want you to be losing sleep. But if it’s the truth, I’m glad to get it out there. What do you do when you can’t sleep?”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Is this a trick question?”

“No.”

She huffed again. “I work.”

He smiled. “Now that I believe.”

“I’m not the only one.” She winced because that sounded whiny.

He must have thought the same thing because he rolled his eyes. “No, you’re not. I mean, it’s job security for me, I suppose, but it’s genuinely painful to watch you all work yourselves into an early grave. How is Baz, by the way?”

This time she flinched. “That’s not fair.”

“Is anything fair?”

She drew a breath because she wanted to scream. She hated shrinks who asked questions like that. No. Nothing is fair. Life is not fair, but we all just push forward. That was all she could do. “He’s doing well. I saw him at the hospital before I came here. He wants to go home.”

“Where he’ll probably work. Or try to.”

“Probably. Marian won’t let him, though.”

Dr. Scott shifted in his seat, studying her. “Who’s going to stop you?”

“From doing what?” she asked, pretending to misunderstand.

“From working yourself into an early grave, Kit,” he said softly.

Her eyes burned and that made her mad. “Nobody,” she snapped. “I don’t need anyone to—” She cut herself off because he’d lifted a brow.

“To what? Stop you?” he asked when she pursed her lips. “Help you? Protect you?”

“I don’t need protecting.” She said the words quietly, but even she could hear the anger roiling beneath.

“That’s not true. You have a big heart, Detective, and you want to fix everyone’s problems. But you can’t. You work too much. Plain and simple. You’re going to burn yourself out before you’re forty, and that will be a damn shame. SDPD needs more detectives like you. But you’ll be gone. Whether dead or retired early, I don’t know. But you will not last. Not at this pace.”

She clenched her jaw and deliberately checked her watch.

“We’re not even close to time,” he said.

He was right, damn him. “This is a big case. And it’s urgent.”

“But it’s not urgent, Kit. It’s a cold case. Those victims and their families have been waiting for years. Some of them a lot more years than others. A few more days—or even weeks—won’t make a difference in the long run. They’ll still grieve. Their lives will still be traumatized. But slowing down could make a big difference to you.”

“But it is urgent. It stopped being a cold case when Skyler Carville was killed over the weekend.”

He frowned. “What? But . . .” He shook his head. “Wait. You arrested the killer. Colton Driscoll. I saw the press conference.”

“Driscoll had a partner,” she said, taking satisfaction from seeing his mouth fall open.

“How? Who?”

“We don’t know. Still working on that.”

He puffed out his cheeks as he struggled to regain his composure. “Well, I suppose that is urgent, but you still have to sleep. When was the last time you actually slept?”

“Last night. I fell asleep at my parents’ house. I got five hours.” Almost.

“That’s a lot for you,” Scott said dryly. “Did your mother drug you?”

Surprised, Kit laughed. “No. I was tired and . . .” She sighed. “The new foster at my parents’ house lost her mother to a killer. The man was arrested yesterday, and it was all over the news. I wanted to be the one to tell her before a stranger on TV did, so I stopped by the house.”

Dr. Scott’s brow furrowed. “The city councilman?”

She nodded, remembering the way Rita had launched herself at her. How Rita had sobbed in her arms. And how good it had felt to know she’d given the girl closure.

“That,” Scott said abruptly, and she blinked at him. “What was that?” he asked. “You went all soft for a moment. Relaxed. Not a bad look on you, if I’m being honest.”

“Rita,” she admitted. “When I told her about her mother, she jumped on my lap and cried herself to sleep.”

Scott’s smile was gentle. “You let her?”

Kit bristled. “I wasn’t gonna dump her on her ass. She was crying.”

He still smiled. “You let her.”

Kit exhaled. “Yeah, I let her. And it felt . . . good. Like I’d fixed something.”

He lifted his brows in a classic told-you-so expression.

She shook her head, smiling ruefully. “So I’m a fixer. Not a crime.”

“No, it’s not. What would be a crime is burning yourself out too soon and making the Ritas of the world miss out. Who’s going to fix their lives if you’re not here?”

She crossed her arms over her chest, disgruntled. “You may have a point,” she conceded.

He threw up his hands. “Hallelujah! Can I record you saying that?”

“No,” she said grumpily.

He chuckled. “Fine, fine. So what’s next, Detective?”

“What do you mean?”

“What are you going to do when you leave here?”

“Go home,” she said dutifully. “And sleep.”

He rolled his eyes. “Right. And here I was thinking we might have made a little progress. My bad.”

“I will go home and sleep,” she insisted. Eventually.

“This is a hard time for you,” he said, sober once more. “This time of year. It’s a pattern and it keeps continuing. Spring rolls around, the daffodils come up, and you start working yourself into the ground again. It was the same last year and the year before, which was why Navarro asked you to see me this year. To cut it off at the pass.”

“Sorry.”

“No, you’re not. That’s the problem.”

“I know my body. I know what it can do. I know how much sleep I need.” Which came out sounding defensive, like the teenagers she’d been talking to for the past few days.

“Now, yes. You’re what, thirty-five?”

She scowled. “Thirty-one.”

“A veritable child.” His sarcasm game was strong. “I bet Baz said that he knew his body, too. Right up until he had a heart attack.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Leave Baz out of this.”

“Okay, fine. What about Snickerdoodle?”

She blinked again. “What about her?”

“When was the last time you spent a full day with your dog?”

She opened her mouth and closed it again. A while. Too long. “My sister takes care of her when I’m working.”

“That wasn’t an answer. Maybe it’s been so long that you can’t remember.”

She lifted her chin at the deliberate taunt. “A week and a half ago. We went to Mom and Pop’s for Sunday dinner.”

“That’s good. Did you work while you were there?”

“No.” She had talked about the case to Harlan and she had talked to Rita about her mother’s murder, but that didn’t really count.

“Uh-huh.” He clearly didn’t believe her. “How about when you got home?”

“Not much. Some light reading.” It had been everything she could replace online about Rita’s mother’s boss. So not very light at all. But, ultimately, it had been worthwhile.

“Uh-huh,” he said again. “Light reading.” He sighed. “What—”

Kit startled where she sat when her phone rang in her pocket.

He frowned, seriously displeased. “Detective, you know the protocol. Phones silenced when you’re in my office.”

“I know.” She pulled her phone from her pocket, showing him the screen. “But I have my dad on a special ringtone.”

Scott waved his hand. “Answer it, then. We’re nearly done anyway. I’ll work on my notes.”

She answered, putting the phone to her ear. “Pop? Everything okay?”

“I think so,” Harlan said warily. “Two men stopped by to see you. Seemed to think you were here. They say that Baz told them so.”

Damn. The one time she told a lie, she got caught. “I was planning to come out to see you,” she added a little lamely. “I left Snick there, after all.”

“Are you okay?” Harlan asked urgently.

“I’m fine. Just needed a little quiet time.”

“Oh?” Harlan asked slyly and she nearly choked. He thought she was on a date.

“I’m working, Pop. But wait.” They’d gotten sidetracked. “Who’s there?”

“Joel Haley and his friend Sam Reeves.” The way he said Sam’s name was the same as how he’d said Oh?, but she wasn’t going to touch that with a ten-foot pole. Harlan could always tell when she was avoiding a truth.

Kit pulled the phone from her ear long enough to glance at her messages. She had several from both Joel and Sam and a few from Baz. “Are they causing you any trouble?”

Dr. Scott turned to give her a concerned look, but she shook her head. It’s fine, she mouthed and he dropped his eyes back to his notes.

“Oh, they’re no trouble at all,” Harlan said. “Your mother is feeding them pie. Says Dr. Reeves looks a little peaked.”

Kit snorted. “He does not.” Sam Reeves looked very healthy, his body toned and his skin lightly tanned from camping in the freaking desert.

“Oh?” Harlan repeated, back to sly.

“Pop. Tell Joel I’ll call him in a few minutes.”

“Or you could come out for pie, too.”

“Yes!” Betsy called in the background. “I didn’t get to talk to her last time. She fell asleep. Tell her to come and see her mother.”

Kit wanted to be irritated but could never replace it in her when the McKittricks were involved. “Tell her I’ll be back soon. Is Rita okay?”

“She’s sitting at the table with them.” He lowered his voice. “Asking questions about her mother’s case. She knows, Kitty-Cat. About her mother’s pregnancy.”

“Dammit. Did Joel tell her?”

“No. She heard it at school. Some reporter—not Tamsin Kavanaugh this time—was digging into the arrest of a city councilman and saw the pregnancy on Maria Mendoza’s autopsy report.”

Regret cut deep. “I should have told her. I would have,” she added helplessly, “but she fell asleep.” And then she’d had to leave. To work.

Maybe Dr. Scott really did have a point. She did work too much. Especially this time of year. Dammit. She hated admitting the shrink was right.

“I think she knows you would have. You can tell her when you see her.”

“I’ll come by tomorrow. Can you put Joel on the phone?”

A few seconds later Joel was there. “Hey, Kit.”

“I’m at the station. By the time I get to Mom and Pop’s, it’ll be close to ten and then we’ll both have to drive south. Can we meet at my place to talk?”

“Sure. Did you eat dinner? Your mother is asking.”

Kit chuckled. “Tell her that I’d love anything she gives me.”

“I will. We’ll meet you at your place. Still on the marina?”

We. He was with Sam. Who Kit really didn’t want to see again so soon.

For reasons she didn’t want to dissect.

“Yep,” she said, managing to keep from sounding awkward. She hoped. “Same slip. I need to talk to my dad again.”

Harlan’s voice came through the phone again. “Kitty-Cat. We hoped you’d come by, but it is late. You’ll be going to sleep soon, right?” He sounded so hopeful.

“Of course.” It was only a small fib. Probably. “Can you keep Snick till tomorrow? She can sleep with Rita again.”

“Rita will like that,” he said gruffly.

“See you tomorrow.” Kit ended the call. “Sorry, Dr. Scott.”

“It’s fine, Kit. Family is important. I’m glad you have such a good one.”

“So am I.”

Scott smiled at her, glancing at the clock. “Same time next week?”

She sighed. “Yeah, sure. See you then.”