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“One of the foster homes I lived in had a resident grandma who didn’t want to be there any more than we did. She was the foster mother’s mother, I think. She used to say it about her son-in-law.”
“Was he a cock of the walk?”
“Oh yeah. Not one of my favorite memories. He treated the grandma like he treated us. So…not good.”
“So you grew up in foster care.”
Kit nodded. “Yes, ma’am.” Then waited to see where Georgia would go with the observation.
“You have a reputation as a closer for SDPD.”
“I try.”
“I read up on you when you left here yesterday.”
“I read up on you, too,” Kit said blandly. Georgia Shearer’s background check had been extremely boring reading.
“I guess you did. Or you tried. Not much out there on me.”
“There really isn’t. You were a paralegal for thirty years. Your record is squeaky clean. You don’t even have a parking ticket.”
“Helps that I never learned to drive,” Georgia said dryly, and then she sighed. “Frankie and Ryan were foster parents when they lived in San Francisco.”
Kit frowned. “I didn’t know that.”
Georgia looked pleased. “I surprised the detective. Go me.”
Kit choked back a laugh. “Yes, ma’am. What’s this about?”
“A few of their former foster kids came to visit over the years. It was so nice when that happened. Ryan would hug them and cry, and Frankie would light up like the sun. Their fosters were always so happy to see them. It was clear that Frankie and Ryan had provided a loving home.”
“If you’ve been in the system for a long time, you know the good homes from the bad ones. And if the bad homes were really bad, it makes you appreciate the good ones even more.”
“You had a good one.”
“At the end, yes. The McKittricks adopted me out of the system even though I was rather prickly. In the beginning, though, I had some bad experiences. Do you think one of Frankie and Ryan’s foster children is involved in Frankie’s death?”
“Oh no. Nothing like that. I was remembering one of the times that Frankie had a foster son visit. This was only a few months ago, so Ryan was long gone. The young man brought his husband and their baby.” Georgia’s eyes welled up and she dashed at the tears impatiently. “They’d named their son Ryan Franklin.”
“That’s lovely,” Kit murmured, her own eyes stinging. If she ever had a child, it would bear either Harlan’s or Betsy’s name.
And that was a thought she hadn’t had before. Having a child?
No. Not happening. I’d be a terrible mother.
Sam, on the other hand, would be a wonderful dad. Just one more reason they could never work, even if Kit wanted it. Which she didn’t.
At least she shouldn’t.
“It was lovely,” Georgia agreed. “We were all having lunch and chatting in the dining room when Crawford came in.”
Kit felt suddenly cold. “What happened?”
“Nothing right then, except that Crawford kind of sneered at them. Muttered something I couldn’t hear, but Frankie heard it and it made him angry, even though he tried not to let it show. Later, when the visitors were gone, Frankie went to Crawford’s office. I followed him and listened at the door.” She shrugged. “I was afraid Frankie would say something he couldn’t take back. He was a good man, but he had a bit of a temper.”
“Did he say anything he couldn’t take back?”
“No. It never got that far. Frankie told Crawford he’d been out of line and that he’d report him to the director if Crawford ‘ever said that homophobic shit again.’ Exact words. Crawford laughed. Said that Frankie needed to remember his place, that he wasn’t a lieutenant anymore and that here, at Shady Oaks, Crawford was in charge.”
