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So... not good.
“And?” Harlan pressed. “Don’t keep us hanging.”
“Navarro reopened the case.” She couldn’t keep from smiling. “They arrested Maria Mendoza’s boss today.”
“Oh, Kit,” Betsy breathed. “That’s wonderful.”
Harlan grabbed Kit in another hug. “Thank you,” he whispered into her hair, his voice breaking, his body leaning into hers. “Thank you.”
Kit hugged him back, happy to give him strength this time, instead of always taking his. “I only did the background work. Two of the other detectives brought him in.” It was Connor and Howard’s collar, which was why they were now freed up to assist her starting tomorrow. “I’m bringing in the cupcakes tomorrow. The really pricey ones from the bakery near the station.”
“Nonsense,” Betsy tutted. “I will be baking the cupcakes, Kit McKittrick. There is no way you will be celebrating this arrest with store-bought cupcakes.”
Kit smiled at her. “I will never say no to cupcakes baked by Mom McK.”
Betsy did a little shimmy where she stood. “Rita will be...” She sobered. “She’ll be satisfied, I think. But it took too long.”
Kit sighed. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Hush now,” Betsy admonished. “That was an indictment of the system. Not you. Never you. Go on up and see her. She’s in your old room. Tell her that dinner is in fifteen minutes. If she’s too overwhelmed to come down, I’ll take her a tray.”
“I’ll tell her.” Kit reached out and squeezed Betsy’s hand, hoping the woman knew how much Kit appreciated her. “Homicide loves chocolate cupcakes.”
“I know,” Betsy said fondly. “Not my first rodeo, Kit.”
It wasn’t. Betsy had always sent baked goods in with Harlan and Kit when they’d visited Baz, long before Kit became a cop. Every time they’d found a lead or even a whisper of a lead, Betsy had made Baz’s favorites.
Kit called to Snickerdoodle, then jogged up the stairs, heading to her old room. It had been updated many times in the past sixteen years. Nearly every occupant had made new curtains because Betsy made sure everyone knew how to sew basic things. She’d made sure they could cook and balance their checkbooks and do all the necessary skills that adults needed to do to survive. Not everyone loved the sewing or the cooking or the math, but no one left McKittrick House unable to fend for themselves.
Kit rapped lightly on the door, pushing it open when she heard a muffled “Come in.”
Rita was sitting on her bed—Wren’s old bed—reading a tattered copy of... Kit’s throat tightened. Coraline. That had been Wren’s favorite book.
“Wow,” Kit said, forcing a smile. “Are they still making you read that for school?”
Rita lit up when she saw Snick, then her expression went abruptly wary as she stared at Kit. Patting the bed for Snickerdoodle to join her, she shook her head, the pink, purple, and blue streaks in her hair sliding against each other. “No. I read the book for school already. I was reading this for... you know. Fun.”
Kit sat on the opposite bed, happy that she’d taken the time to bring her dog because Rita had visibly relaxed, petting her. “That was my sister Wren’s favorite book. She loved the spooky, scary stories.”
Rita went still, then turned the book so that Kit could see it. Inside the front cover was written WMcK in a heartbreakingly familiar scrawl.
Kit swallowed hard. “I didn’t know that Mom kept it.”
Rita nodded. “She told me that it was precious and that I had to promise to take care of it.” Her chin jutted out. “I will.”
“I know you will.” Kit drew a breath. “I have some news.”
Rita stiffened. “I didn’t do anything.”
“I know, I know,” Kit soothed. “Nobody even hinted that you did. This is about your mom, honey.”
Rita carefully set Wren’s book aside. “What happened?”
“I looked into her case and we found some new evidence. Your mom’s boss was arrested today.”
Kit hadn’t been sure how Rita would react. It could have gone a number of different ways, from rage to tears.
Rita lurched to her feet, looking like she wanted to bolt. “He was?”
