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Or Kit. One of the kids at McKittrick House surely would love his dog.
She’d probably won their bet. She’d probably proven Roxanne was responsible already. She hadn’t said why she’d grabbed Roxanne’s cup out of the dishwasher, but Sam knew the woman didn’t do anything without a good reason.
The letter he’d emailed her would be icing on the cake.
But he would miss their date. Going out on a boat filled him with trepidation, but he would have happily spent the day with her anywhere.
“Let my dog go, please,” Sam said quietly. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“He’s seen me,” Roxanne replied. “Gotten my scent. If they try to use him to prove I’ve been around you, he could be used against me.”
“He’s seen you at Shady Oaks several times. I sometimes bring him with me when I come to play the piano. Tell them he knows you from that.”
In the rearview mirror, he could see her hesitate before she shook her head. “Too risky. I’m sorry.”
“But you’re not sorry to kill us,” Georgia said, acid dripping from her tone. “And you a nurse. Shame on you.”
Roxanne shrugged. “You got in my way. I don’t leave loose ends.”
Sam exhaled. They were going to die.
No. No, you will not let her win. You’ll figure something out.
But what?
Roxanne directed him off I-5 and onto Tocayo Avenue, then south on Hollister. Right now, it was a crowded subdivision with houses and businesses, but he knew that the area would soon become wild open spaces.
“Turn here. Right onto Monument.”
I know the way, Sam wanted to say, but he remained silent and did as she commanded. They were headed toward the Tijuana River Valley Regional Park, and Sam felt a spark of hope. He knew this place, had hiked it with Siggy dozens of times in the four years he’d lived in San Diego.
If he could figure out a way to get the gun from Roxanne, they could get away. Find a park ranger. Get help.
If. For now, he was helpless, the woman’s gun pressed to the back of his neck in a way that no one casually glancing into their car would see. Especially now that the roads were becoming less crowded.
It was dark and the park would be closed.
No one knew where they were. No one would be coming to help.
“I wish I’d called my parents,” Sam murmured.
Georgia hummed in sympathy. “I’d ask her to just kill me, but…”
“Georgia, no.”
“I’m sorry, Sam,” Georgia whispered. “I shouldn’t have asked you to take me out today.”
“No, you should have. If making Henry Whitfield and Sharon White happy was the last thing we did, I’d say we did okay.”
No, that will not be the last thing you do. You’re going to fight.
Georgia sighed. “Plus, Gerald now knows the truth about his father.”
“Who’s Gerald?” Roxanne asked sharply.
Sam tensed. The woman wasn’t stupid. If they lied, she’d still figure out that Gerald was related to Frankie. So he told the truth. “Frankie’s son. For forty-five years, he thought his father had cheated on his mother. He never spoke to his father again. Today he learned the truth—that his mother had known all along that Frankie was gay and that he never cheated. That his mother had a hand in introducing Frankie to his husband, Ryan. They didn’t see the letter. Gerald would have torn it up had he known his father had left it.”
Which was true. Mother and son hadn’t seen the letter. Georgia had unsealed it and read it aloud.
