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“They’re apparently estranged.”
“And there’s a lot of money involved. I hate to think the son could have done it, but we both know that money is a great motivator.”
Kit sighed. “Yeah.”
“You know I’m here if you want to bounce any ideas off me, right?”
She smiled up at him. A heart attack had forced his decision to retire, but Baz still helped her however he could. “I know. Thank you.”
“Anytime, kid. You make me proud.”
“Stop,” she protested.
They were quiet for a long minute, then Baz asked, “Are you happy, Kit?”
“Yes,” she answered, startled. “Why?”
His gaze moved to rest on Sam Reeves, who sat between Betsy and Rita. Rita was all smiles, still chatting with Jane and Janey, who seemed to have relaxed—at least a little. Sam was talking to Betsy, but his green eyes were fixed on Kit.
Baz hummed low in his throat. “Don’t shortchange yourself. That’s all.”
“I’ll call you soon,” she said, ripping her attention away from Sam Reeves and steering them back to work. Back to safe ground. “I might need to drive to Palm Springs tomorrow.”
“The golf buddies.”
Kit laughed, relieving a tiny bit of the stress. “Why are you even asking me questions? You already know everything.”
“Because I miss you, kid.”
She gave in to the need and rested her head on his shoulder. “Same.”
The doors opened and Mateo and his staff carried in large trays of food. The party had begun.
“Let’s go eat,” Baz said. “I’m going to sneak food that’s bad for me and you’re not going to tell Marian. That’s my price for my help.”
“I’m not covering for you with Marian. She terrifies me.”
Baz beamed. “She’s an amazing woman, isn’t she?”
Yes, she was. Kit had long admired the relationship Baz had with his wife. Had secretly wished for the same.
You could have that. He’s looking at you right now.
Sam wouldn’t rush her, of that she was certain. How long would he wait, though? How long could she expect him to?
One of those women that Connor had mentioned might snap him up while she…
While I cower in fear.
I need to do something. But what?
The answer didn’t make her proud. Because for now, she was going to focus on getting justice for Frankie Flynn. Then she’d have to see what happened next.
San Diego, California
Monday, November 7, 8:10 p.m.
“Hey,” Kit said, setting a covered plate and a plastic fork on the ME’s desk. “I got here as soon as I could.”
