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She had a single moment to think that the man’s dark hair and strong back looked familiar before he turned and met her gaze. She sucked in a startled breath as she met the vivid green eyes of the man she’d been avoiding for the past six months.
Dr. Sam Reeves.
“I tried to warn you,” Connor whispered. “Dammit.”
Dammit was right. Their new criminal psychologist was the one man who’d snuck under her guard, the one man she’d pushed away. He was also the one man she wanted even after trying for months to convince herself that she didn’t.
He was the one man who deserved a whole lot more than she had to give.
He approached warily, his eyes swollen and bloodshot behind his Clark Kent glasses because he’d been crying. Finally, he stopped in front of them. Connor let go of her arm and Kit felt it hang heavily from her shoulder. She wanted to say something, but her tongue was not cooperating. Neither was her brain.
“Hello, Kit,” Sam murmured. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
Shady Oaks Retirement Village
Scripps Ranch, San Diego, California
Monday, November 7, 11:45 a.m.
Kit’s here. Sam had figured she would be when he’d seen Connor Robinson talking to the facility director and some of the residents. Sam had been bracing himself for her arrival, but he hadn’t braced nearly enough.
She looked as flummoxed as he felt.
He’d surprised her, Sam thought wearily. And not in a good way. He’d been so careful to stay out of her way for the past six months, ever since she’d told him that there was nothing between them to pursue. That they couldn’t even just be friends.
He’d been patiently waiting for her to get over her fear. To give him a chance. To give them a chance. Because she was worth waiting for.
And then today, he’d shown up at Shady Oaks for his normal volunteer session to find the facility in an uproar. Part of him had hoped a different pair of detectives would show up, but a bigger part of him was glad it was Kit. She’d make sure Frankie’s killer was brought to justice.
“What are you doing here?” Kit demanded in a whisper that clearly conveyed her displeasure.
“I’ve volunteered here for four years,” he said quietly. “I play the piano for the residents at least once a month. I was scheduled this morning for arts and crafts hour.” All of which he’d already told Connor.
Sam hadn’t liked Kit’s partner at first, but he and Connor had developed a solid professional working relationship. Which was good, because Kit refused to work with Sam.
She wasn’t obvious about it, of course. She never stomped her foot or told her boss she wanted another profiler. She simply sent Connor to Sam’s office whenever they needed a profile on a killer. Which had happened only twice since Sam had begun working with San Diego PD’s homicide unit. Kit and Connor were usually able to figure things out without his assistance.
The other homicide detectives, along with his private practice, kept him busy. Unfortunately, not busy enough, because he still had time to think about Kit. But he’d promised himself he wouldn’t push her.
And then Frankie had been murdered. Sam couldn’t believe it.
He swallowed hard, still numb with the shock. “I got here and everyone was crying. The director asked me to play for the residents who’d gathered in the common room while the police did their job. So I did.”
Her expression softened, making him wonder how bad he looked from the all the crying he’d done that morning. “You knew the deceased?” she asked.
Sam nodded. “I did. Frankie was a good man.”
“I’m so sorry, Dr. Reeves.”
He managed to control his wince, even though her use of his title was like a slap to the face. Once upon a time, she’d called him Sam. That was before she’d gotten scared and run.
“Thank you, Detective. I have appointments this afternoon, so I’ll be heading back to my office soon. If you need any assistance or have any questions about Frankie, please don’t hesitate to ask. I want whoever killed him punished.”
“So do we. Dr. Reeves, do you know where we can find his husband?”
Sam blinked, startled by the question. “Ryan passed away a few months before I started volunteering here. I never met him. Frankie didn’t talk about him often, but I do know that they’d been together for more than forty years when Ryan died. They got married when same-sex marriage was legalized in California back in 2008, in that period before Proposition 8 made it illegal. Frankie didn’t talk much about feelings, but I know that he loved his husband. They ran an antique store together for years.”
It was only because he was watching her face so carefully that Sam saw her surprise. It was quickly erased, replaced with professional curiosity.
