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“She’s dead, isn’t she?”
“I don’t know.”
Nathan’s stare was mutinous. “But you think so.”
“Yes. I think so. I hope I’m wrong.” But he didn’t think he was.
“I have to go back inside.”
“Can I tell Detective McKittrick this information?”
A shrug. “Fine. I don’t care anymore.” Nathan opened the door and started to slip inside. “I just don’t care.”
Something in the boy’s demeanor had a shiver of dread racing down Sam’s spine. “Nathan, wait.” He took out another card and wrote his new cell phone number on the back. “Please call me if you feel like you’re going to do anything drastic.”
“Nobody would care.”
“I would,” Sam whispered fiercely. “And your mom would, too. Please.”
“Whatever.” But he took the card before closing the door in Sam’s face.
Heart heavy, Sam went to his car, pulled out his phone, and texted McKittrick. Sam Reeves here. New number since you have my phone. I have some things to share with you. Please call me as soon as you can.
Then he drove back to Joel’s house, wondering what he was going to do next.
Carmel Valley, California
Monday, April 18, 5:45 p.m.
Harlan’s eyes widened when Kit let herself in the McKittricks’ front door, Snickerdoodle at her heels. She’d picked the dog up from her place before heading to the farmhouse, thinking Rita might need some cuddle time after hearing the news. “Hey, Pop.”
“Kitty-Cat!” Grinning, he gave her a rib-popping hug, letting her go before she grunted this time. “We didn’t expect to see you tonight. And Snick, too.” He petted the dog’s head, sending Snick’s tail wagging.
Kit lifted on her toes to kiss his cheek, enjoying his pleased smile. “Is it okay?”
“Of course! Mom!” he shouted. “Kit is here.”
Betsy appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “I’m glad I made pot roast.”
Kit’s stomach growled. She’d visited Baz on her lunch break and hadn’t stopped to eat. “With baby carrots?”
Betsy looked offended. “Of course.” She enveloped Kit in a warm hug and Kit inhaled, loving the smell of home on the woman who’d given her everything. “Are you all right?” Betsy whispered in her ear.
Kit tightened her hold because she wasn’t all right. Baz was in the hospital and the afternoon had been one major disappointment after another as she’d pursued leads on the case. But she’d kept her promise to Navarro and clocked out on time. Once she talked to Rita, she and Snick could go home and sleep. “I will be.”
“Of course you will.” Betsy let her go and patted her cheek gently. “You know we’re here to listen. And we’re the vault.”
They really were. Kit knew she could confide anything to them and it would go no further. She rarely did, though, mostly because she didn’t want anyone else to share the mental pictures that haunted her.
“I know. I actually came by to talk to Rita. Is she here?”
“In her room,” Betsy said. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing bad. Well, I hope she doesn’t take it badly. She told me about her mother.”
Harlan’s gaze darkened. “That poor woman. And Rita found her.”
Kit’s heart squeezed because she’d read that in the police report. “I looked into her mother’s case again. We found some evidence that hadn’t made it into the case file.” Batra’s office was still trying to find out what exactly had happened, but it appeared that a clerk had uploaded the wrong photo. The person no longer worked for the ME’s office and, at last word, was nowhere to be found.
