Cold-Blooded Liar, page 3
“Yeah,” Baz agreed. “That was our reaction, too. She fits the profile—young, blond, and petite. She’s been in the ground a year or two based on decomp. ME’ll give us a range for time of death, but she’s wearing a class ring on a chain. Hopefully that’ll help narrow things down and maybe even ID her.”
“Any evidence of the doer?”
“A footprint,” Baz said. “Either the doer or the caller or both, if he called it in himself for the attention. But it’s probably a Top-Sider. Kit recognized the logo.”
“Hell, even I have a pair of those,” Navarro muttered. “That’s no help.”
“Not to trace him, no,” Kit agreed. “We’re going to pull missing-person reports for teenage blondes over the last few years and get IT to trace the anonymous call. What we wanted from you is direction on the pink handcuffs. Keep it confidential?”
“Absolutely. Last thing we need is for the press to get their hands on this. It’ll go viral and we’ll have copycats and fake sightings and . . . hell. ID the victim and trace the caller. Then we’ll go from there.”
“Yes, sir,” Kit said. “We’re heading back now.” She ended the call and looked at Baz, who was driving this week. “I don’t feel much like eating.” They’d missed lunch and it was now dinnertime, but she still wasn’t hungry.
Baz started the car. “Now that I’m not downwind from a body, my stomach is growling. We can order something back at the office.” He shot her an arch look. “You will eat.”
She didn’t argue because Baz was right. Plus he’d tell on her to Mom McK. “Fine.”
Accepting his victory with a smirk, he handed Kit his phone. “Text Marian, please. Tell her I’ll be late tonight.”
Kit did so, grateful that she didn’t have a spouse to disappoint with her late nights. “She says you owe her ‘stuff.’ She used quotes. Do I want to know?”
He chuckled, a rich sound that normally made Kit happy, but at this moment, it was TMI. “No, Kit. You do not want to know.”
“Old-people sex,” she teased with an exaggerated shudder. “Let me get Snickerdoodle settled for the night.”
She texted her sister Akiko: Caught a case. Can u keep Snick tonite? Her standard poodle Snickerdoodle would need to be walked long before she got home.
Akiko responded immediately. Will do. You okay?
Just fine. It’s going to be a busy night, that’s all.
We on for Saturday? Saturdays were Akiko’s busiest day, with fishing charters scheduled for morning and afternoon. This time of year, her guest roster was always packed. Kit gave her a hand whenever she could. It was a win-win. Akiko got the help and Kit got a day on the water to unwind, catching fish instead of murderers.
And Snickerdoodle got head scritches from the guests. Everyone was happy.
Yes for now. May change. Will let you know.
A thumbs-up emoji was Akiko’s answer.
Baz headed out of the park, nodding to the officers who’d cordoned off the crime scene. “Snickerdoodle taken care of?”
“Yep. Akiko’s got her. Snick gets spoiled at her place, so she’ll be happy.”
Baz snorted. “She gets spoiled at your place, too. Don’t front.”
“I spoil her with attention. Akiko spoils her with cheese.”
Baz frowned. “I thought Akiko was vegan. Is she giving her vegan cheese?”
Kit chuckled. “Akiko is not vegan, just a pescatarian who’s lactose intolerant. She buys cheese especially for Snickerdoodle.” She looked into her side mirror, watching the crime scene disappear from view. “She was young.”
Baz nodded, rolling with the subject change. “I hope someone reported her missing.”
Kit hoped so. While it would have been hell on the girl’s family to lose her, Kit hoped someone had genuinely loved the girl before she’d been killed. “Her T-shirt was from an Ariana Grande concert, three or four years ago. If we can’t ID her from either her fingerprints or from the ring around her neck, we can search missing-person reports for what she was last wearing.”
“He didn’t take her jewelry.”
“No.” Which was kind of unusual. “Were the other victims found with jewelry?”
“At least two of them were,” Baz said. “One of them—the third one—was even ID’d through a necklace with her name on it. That was Ricki Emerson. The first victim was wearing a cross on a chain.”
“She was never identified.”
Baz sighed. “No. We canvassed the area where she was found for miles, but no one remembered seeing her.”
“She’d also been dead a good while longer.”
“True. At least two years, the ME said. Maybe as many as five. The neighborhood where she was found had a number of Coronado families.”
“High turnover,” Kit murmured. The naval base on Coronado Island housed more than thirty thousand personnel and their families. Transient by definition.
“Yep. Most of the residents we talked to hadn’t lived there two years before.”
“Maybe we’ll be lucky with this girl and somebody will remember seeing her and who she was with before she disappeared. And if we are supremely lucky, we can trace that call and work the case from both ends.”
Baz held up crossed fingers. “Which ID do you want? The vic or the caller?”
“Since he specifically asked for me, I’ll take the caller.”
And when she found him, he’d better have some very good answers to a lot of very hard questions.
Shelter Island Marina, San Diego, California
Monday, April 4, 11:45 p.m.
Kit pulled into her parking place, exhausted. It had been a very long day and all she wanted was to curl up with a cup of tea and snuggle her dog. Unfortunately, Snickerdoodle was with her sister on the other side of town. Akiko would be asleep by now, and Kit wouldn’t wake her. Her sister had a full fishing charter tomorrow and needed her rest.
The IT guys had given Kit bad news. The call had come in on a burner phone and there was no way to trace it. So that was a dead end.
Frustrated, Kit had joined Baz’s search for the victim. They’d hoped that the high school class ring the girl had worn on the chain around her neck would allow for a quick ID, but that hadn’t panned out. No young women had disappeared from that high school, and they’d have to wait until morning to trace the ring itself, so they’d printed up the missing-person reports for young women—blond, petite—who’d gone missing between one and two years ago.
It had been a tragically big stack. Most had been labeled as runaways. Which, of course, brought back memories of Wren. The cops had initially said she’d run away, too, because she’d had a “history” of it.
A history of one fucking time. Wren and Kit had run from their foster home when they’d been twelve years old. Before Kit had arrived in the home, Wren had been too scared to run alone. Then they’d landed in McKittrick House, and there had been no reason for either of them to run ever again.
After reviewing the missing-person reports, she and Baz had ID’d the victim in the grave in the park by the Ariana Grande T-shirt she’d been wearing when last seen. Jaelyn Watts, age sixteen. Her family had been frantic when she’d disappeared. But she’d recently snuck off to Los Angeles with her friends to try out for a sitcom in an open casting call and had, therefore, been labeled a runaway, the investigation going cold. Kit would make sure to call the officer who’d taken the report to tell him that she’d been found in an unmarked grave. She hoped it would make him think twice in the future about dismissing a missing child as a runaway.
Sighing, she gathered her things and locked her Subaru. Parking wasn’t cheap in the marina, but it was one of the few expenses she had, so she’d paid extra for a spot close to her boat. It helped when she got called to a crime scene in the middle of the night.
She frowned as she approached her boat. There was a light burning in the portlight window. Akiko must have left it on when she picked up Snickerdoodle that afternoon.
Kit couldn’t complain about the wasted electricity, though. Not when Akiko was nice enough to take care of her dog.
She did a visual check of the deck as she boarded, making sure everything was where it was supposed to be. The marina had excellent security, but this was her older brother Arthur’s sailboat and she would be a good tenant.
She heard the music as soon as she opened the cabin door. Faint at first, the sound of twanging guitars grew louder as she descended. Country music.
Akiko was here. Which meant Snickerdoodle was, too.
Kit felt instantly calmer.
One thing about living on a thirty-eight-foot boat was that everything was within sight. Akiko was sitting on the bed, reading a book. She gave Kit a wave as Snickerdoodle bounded off the bed, coming to meet her with tail-wagging joy, just as she did every day.
Kit knelt on one knee to hug her, absorbing the welcome. “What are you guys doing here?” she asked, giving Snick a scratch behind the ears where she liked it best.
Akiko followed Snickerdoodle into the main cabin. “I had a cancellation tomorrow, so I figured I’d bring Snick back and wait for you.”
Kit rose, frowning. Tomorrow’s trip was an all-day charter. “How rude to cancel on you last minute like that. I hope they don’t get their money back.” Because Akiko had too many expenses to lose so much cash.
“They won’t, and they didn’t fight me over it. It was a bachelor party, but the groom caught the bride in bed with her ex and . . .” She shrugged. “The best man is taking care of canceling everything because the groom is in shock. I told the best man that when the groom feels better, they can rebook at a discount.”
Her sister had a soft heart. “It’s a wonder you make a profit at all,” Kit grumbled.
“Being kind gets me return customers. The best man’s already booked a spot on one of my regular fishing cruises.”
“Okay.” Kit inhaled and her stomach growled loudly. Something smelled good. “Did you cook?”
“I did. I grilled up some of yesterday’s catch at my place and brought it over. You want me to zap it for you?”
“Do you mind?”
“Of course not. Sit down, Kit. You look tired.”
“I am.” She sank onto the sofa, patting her lap. Snickerdoodle jumped up and cuddled, instantly making her feel a little better.
Within minutes, she had a plate filled with bluefin tuna, buttery potatoes, and fresh snap peas. The potatoes and peas had come from Harlan and Betsy’s farm, so they’d be delicious.
Akiko curled up on the sofa beside her, cradling a cup of tea. She waited silently as Kit ate, knowing it wasn’t worth asking questions until the plate was clean.
Kit swallowed the last bite and sighed. “Thank you. I was so hungry and dreading a microwave meal.” The microwave oven had been one of the few appliances she’d added since moving onto the boat two years before. It worked well here in the marina with the electrical hookup. It was harder to power when she took the boat out on the open water, so those days she ate sandwiches.
Arthur had taken most of his meals at the naval base when he’d lived here, as had Kit when she’d been with the Coast Guard. Unfortunately, her schedule as a detective didn’t always mesh with take-out places, so she depended on that microwave at the end of a long day.
“I told you that I’d cook for you,” Akiko said mildly. “I’m cooking for myself anyway, and I don’t mind doubling up for you.”
Kit got up to wash her dishes. It was an old argument. Akiko always offered, but Kit never wanted to put her out. “I hate to put you to the trouble.”
Akiko shook her head. “I like to cook, unlike you. I don’t mind, Kitty-Cat. I really don’t. In fact, I think I’m going to take the decision out of your hands. From here on out, I will double whatever dinners I make and just bring them out to you. I’ll send you a bill for your share of the groceries at the end of the month.”
Kit smiled over at her. “You’re too good to me.”
Akiko smirked. “I know.”
Kit finished the cleanup—there was no room in the galley for dirty dishes to pile up—and made herself a cup of tea. “Today sucked. And I can’t tell you much about it.”
“Well, I figured there was a murder,” Akiko said dryly as Kit reclaimed her place on the sofa. “Considering you’re Homicide and all.”
“Yeah,” Kit murmured, thinking of the body in Longview Park, buried in an unmarked grave, her hands restrained in sparkly pink handcuffs. Jaelyn Watts, on the cusp of starting her life. “We ID’d the vic. I hate it when they’re young.”
“How young?” Akiko asked, sympathy in her dark eyes.
Kit hesitated. The girl’s age wasn’t going to be a secret when the details were released. She could share that much. “Sixteen.”
“Oh.” There was a wealth of understanding in that single syllable.
Akiko had never known Wren, having come to live with the McKittricks shortly after the murder, but she knew all about it. She knew how much it had ripped Kit apart. She, along with Harlan and Betsy, had been responsible for stitching Kit back together.
In the years that followed, Akiko had become Kit’s very best friend.
“Yeah, oh.”
“You’ll find who did it,” Akiko said with unshakable confidence. “And if you don’t, no one else could’ve, either.”
Akiko always knew the right thing to say. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I just walked Snick before you got home, so she’s good for the night. Get to bed. If I know you, you’ll be back at the station first thing in the morning.”
That was the truth. “Stay tonight. I don’t like you driving home alone so late.”
Akiko laughed. “It’s only midnight, Kit, and I don’t turn into a pumpkin. I can take care of myself, you know. But I’ll stay, if for no other reason than to make you a decent breakfast before you head back.” She pointed an accusing finger. “I saw those Pop-Tarts in your cupboard.”
“Hey. They’re fortified with vitamins and minerals.”
Akiko snorted. “Right.”
“You don’t have to get up and make me breakfast. Sleep in on your day off.”
“I’ll go back to bed after you have some nutrition, then I’ll take Snick and go to Mom and Pop’s. I don’t get a day off very often, and I think I’ll spend it weeding.”
While the McKittricks never asked for help, the majority of their former fosters regularly returned to the farm to assist with the never-ending chores.
Kit hadn’t been out to the farm in too long, though. Not for a whole day. She’d been working, investigating cold cases when she’d closed the current ones.
Navarro was right. She did work nonstop this time of year. She figured that Harlan, Betsy, and the rest of the family understood, but maybe she shouldn’t expect them to.
She showered and changed into her pj’s, taking a moment to retrieve the carved figurines from her pocket before shoving the day’s clothes into a laundry bag. She held the little wooden cat-and-bird, studying the bird perched on the cat’s head.
Akiko, already on her side of the bed, took off her headphones. “Pop gave it to you.”
“Yeah. He came by today. He and Mom were picking up a new kid downtown. He said I could keep it in my pocket. For luck.”
“I saw it last Sunday at dinner. It’s different from your usual Wren carving.”
“He gave me one of those, too. And one to Baz.” She placed the other carving, the lone bird, on the shelf with the others. “I’m going to need a bigger shelf.”
Akiko didn’t say anything because there really wasn’t anything to say. Kit loved that about her. Her sister didn’t fill silences when she didn’t need to.
Kit locked up her gun and put the cat-and-bird on the table with her keys and wallet. It would go into her pocket tomorrow and every day thereafter. “Come on, Snick. Time for bed.”
The dog jumped up onto the bed, snuggling between her and Akiko. Kit set an alarm on her phone, then stared at the audio app she still had open. She’d been listening to the anonymous call off and on all day. She still didn’t recognize the voice. Slipping in her earbuds, she got under the covers and started the recording again, putting it on repeat.
Hi. This message is for homicide detective Kit McKittrick. I have reason to believe you’ll find the victim of a murder in Longview Park at the following coordinates.
He sounded nervous. And maybe scared, as well.
Who was he? Why did he pick me? Do I know him?
How did he know about the grave?
Could he be the killer?
Kit found herself not wanting him to be. He sounded . . . sincere.
Rookie mistake, assuming a person’s sincerity.
She petted Snick, long strokes over her curly cream-colored coat. And listened to the caller’s voice over and over until she finally fell asleep.
CHAPTER TWO
SDPD, San Diego, California
Tuesday, April 5, 8:05 a.m.
Well?” Navarro asked when Baz and Kit were sitting in his office the next morning.
“We’re ninety-nine percent certain that the vic’s name is Jaelyn Watts,” Baz said. “She was sixteen years old when she disappeared last February, fourteen months ago. We’re going out later this morning to see the family. Hopefully their dentist will have dental records or the parents will have saved her toothbrush or hairbrush for DNA confirmation.”
“Her parents filed a missing-person report the same day she disappeared,” Kit said, placing a copy of it on Navarro’s desk. “But she’d recently played hooky to go to L.A. to try out for a part in a sitcom, so she was treated as a runaway. Parents contacted LAPD, who checked with the production company that had held the audition. They had no record of seeing her after she’d disappeared.”
“She obviously never made it to L.A.” Baz sighed. “She never made it out of San Diego.”
“Any evidence of the doer?”
“A footprint,” Baz said. “Either the doer or the caller or both, if he called it in himself for the attention. But it’s probably a Top-Sider. Kit recognized the logo.”
“Hell, even I have a pair of those,” Navarro muttered. “That’s no help.”
“Not to trace him, no,” Kit agreed. “We’re going to pull missing-person reports for teenage blondes over the last few years and get IT to trace the anonymous call. What we wanted from you is direction on the pink handcuffs. Keep it confidential?”
“Absolutely. Last thing we need is for the press to get their hands on this. It’ll go viral and we’ll have copycats and fake sightings and . . . hell. ID the victim and trace the caller. Then we’ll go from there.”
“Yes, sir,” Kit said. “We’re heading back now.” She ended the call and looked at Baz, who was driving this week. “I don’t feel much like eating.” They’d missed lunch and it was now dinnertime, but she still wasn’t hungry.
Baz started the car. “Now that I’m not downwind from a body, my stomach is growling. We can order something back at the office.” He shot her an arch look. “You will eat.”
She didn’t argue because Baz was right. Plus he’d tell on her to Mom McK. “Fine.”
Accepting his victory with a smirk, he handed Kit his phone. “Text Marian, please. Tell her I’ll be late tonight.”
Kit did so, grateful that she didn’t have a spouse to disappoint with her late nights. “She says you owe her ‘stuff.’ She used quotes. Do I want to know?”
He chuckled, a rich sound that normally made Kit happy, but at this moment, it was TMI. “No, Kit. You do not want to know.”
“Old-people sex,” she teased with an exaggerated shudder. “Let me get Snickerdoodle settled for the night.”
She texted her sister Akiko: Caught a case. Can u keep Snick tonite? Her standard poodle Snickerdoodle would need to be walked long before she got home.
Akiko responded immediately. Will do. You okay?
Just fine. It’s going to be a busy night, that’s all.
We on for Saturday? Saturdays were Akiko’s busiest day, with fishing charters scheduled for morning and afternoon. This time of year, her guest roster was always packed. Kit gave her a hand whenever she could. It was a win-win. Akiko got the help and Kit got a day on the water to unwind, catching fish instead of murderers.
And Snickerdoodle got head scritches from the guests. Everyone was happy.
Yes for now. May change. Will let you know.
A thumbs-up emoji was Akiko’s answer.
Baz headed out of the park, nodding to the officers who’d cordoned off the crime scene. “Snickerdoodle taken care of?”
“Yep. Akiko’s got her. Snick gets spoiled at her place, so she’ll be happy.”
Baz snorted. “She gets spoiled at your place, too. Don’t front.”
“I spoil her with attention. Akiko spoils her with cheese.”
Baz frowned. “I thought Akiko was vegan. Is she giving her vegan cheese?”
Kit chuckled. “Akiko is not vegan, just a pescatarian who’s lactose intolerant. She buys cheese especially for Snickerdoodle.” She looked into her side mirror, watching the crime scene disappear from view. “She was young.”
Baz nodded, rolling with the subject change. “I hope someone reported her missing.”
Kit hoped so. While it would have been hell on the girl’s family to lose her, Kit hoped someone had genuinely loved the girl before she’d been killed. “Her T-shirt was from an Ariana Grande concert, three or four years ago. If we can’t ID her from either her fingerprints or from the ring around her neck, we can search missing-person reports for what she was last wearing.”
“He didn’t take her jewelry.”
“No.” Which was kind of unusual. “Were the other victims found with jewelry?”
“At least two of them were,” Baz said. “One of them—the third one—was even ID’d through a necklace with her name on it. That was Ricki Emerson. The first victim was wearing a cross on a chain.”
“She was never identified.”
Baz sighed. “No. We canvassed the area where she was found for miles, but no one remembered seeing her.”
“She’d also been dead a good while longer.”
“True. At least two years, the ME said. Maybe as many as five. The neighborhood where she was found had a number of Coronado families.”
“High turnover,” Kit murmured. The naval base on Coronado Island housed more than thirty thousand personnel and their families. Transient by definition.
“Yep. Most of the residents we talked to hadn’t lived there two years before.”
“Maybe we’ll be lucky with this girl and somebody will remember seeing her and who she was with before she disappeared. And if we are supremely lucky, we can trace that call and work the case from both ends.”
Baz held up crossed fingers. “Which ID do you want? The vic or the caller?”
“Since he specifically asked for me, I’ll take the caller.”
And when she found him, he’d better have some very good answers to a lot of very hard questions.
Shelter Island Marina, San Diego, California
Monday, April 4, 11:45 p.m.
Kit pulled into her parking place, exhausted. It had been a very long day and all she wanted was to curl up with a cup of tea and snuggle her dog. Unfortunately, Snickerdoodle was with her sister on the other side of town. Akiko would be asleep by now, and Kit wouldn’t wake her. Her sister had a full fishing charter tomorrow and needed her rest.
The IT guys had given Kit bad news. The call had come in on a burner phone and there was no way to trace it. So that was a dead end.
Frustrated, Kit had joined Baz’s search for the victim. They’d hoped that the high school class ring the girl had worn on the chain around her neck would allow for a quick ID, but that hadn’t panned out. No young women had disappeared from that high school, and they’d have to wait until morning to trace the ring itself, so they’d printed up the missing-person reports for young women—blond, petite—who’d gone missing between one and two years ago.
It had been a tragically big stack. Most had been labeled as runaways. Which, of course, brought back memories of Wren. The cops had initially said she’d run away, too, because she’d had a “history” of it.
A history of one fucking time. Wren and Kit had run from their foster home when they’d been twelve years old. Before Kit had arrived in the home, Wren had been too scared to run alone. Then they’d landed in McKittrick House, and there had been no reason for either of them to run ever again.
After reviewing the missing-person reports, she and Baz had ID’d the victim in the grave in the park by the Ariana Grande T-shirt she’d been wearing when last seen. Jaelyn Watts, age sixteen. Her family had been frantic when she’d disappeared. But she’d recently snuck off to Los Angeles with her friends to try out for a sitcom in an open casting call and had, therefore, been labeled a runaway, the investigation going cold. Kit would make sure to call the officer who’d taken the report to tell him that she’d been found in an unmarked grave. She hoped it would make him think twice in the future about dismissing a missing child as a runaway.
Sighing, she gathered her things and locked her Subaru. Parking wasn’t cheap in the marina, but it was one of the few expenses she had, so she’d paid extra for a spot close to her boat. It helped when she got called to a crime scene in the middle of the night.
She frowned as she approached her boat. There was a light burning in the portlight window. Akiko must have left it on when she picked up Snickerdoodle that afternoon.
Kit couldn’t complain about the wasted electricity, though. Not when Akiko was nice enough to take care of her dog.
She did a visual check of the deck as she boarded, making sure everything was where it was supposed to be. The marina had excellent security, but this was her older brother Arthur’s sailboat and she would be a good tenant.
She heard the music as soon as she opened the cabin door. Faint at first, the sound of twanging guitars grew louder as she descended. Country music.
Akiko was here. Which meant Snickerdoodle was, too.
Kit felt instantly calmer.
One thing about living on a thirty-eight-foot boat was that everything was within sight. Akiko was sitting on the bed, reading a book. She gave Kit a wave as Snickerdoodle bounded off the bed, coming to meet her with tail-wagging joy, just as she did every day.
Kit knelt on one knee to hug her, absorbing the welcome. “What are you guys doing here?” she asked, giving Snick a scratch behind the ears where she liked it best.
Akiko followed Snickerdoodle into the main cabin. “I had a cancellation tomorrow, so I figured I’d bring Snick back and wait for you.”
Kit rose, frowning. Tomorrow’s trip was an all-day charter. “How rude to cancel on you last minute like that. I hope they don’t get their money back.” Because Akiko had too many expenses to lose so much cash.
“They won’t, and they didn’t fight me over it. It was a bachelor party, but the groom caught the bride in bed with her ex and . . .” She shrugged. “The best man is taking care of canceling everything because the groom is in shock. I told the best man that when the groom feels better, they can rebook at a discount.”
Her sister had a soft heart. “It’s a wonder you make a profit at all,” Kit grumbled.
“Being kind gets me return customers. The best man’s already booked a spot on one of my regular fishing cruises.”
“Okay.” Kit inhaled and her stomach growled loudly. Something smelled good. “Did you cook?”
“I did. I grilled up some of yesterday’s catch at my place and brought it over. You want me to zap it for you?”
“Do you mind?”
“Of course not. Sit down, Kit. You look tired.”
“I am.” She sank onto the sofa, patting her lap. Snickerdoodle jumped up and cuddled, instantly making her feel a little better.
Within minutes, she had a plate filled with bluefin tuna, buttery potatoes, and fresh snap peas. The potatoes and peas had come from Harlan and Betsy’s farm, so they’d be delicious.
Akiko curled up on the sofa beside her, cradling a cup of tea. She waited silently as Kit ate, knowing it wasn’t worth asking questions until the plate was clean.
Kit swallowed the last bite and sighed. “Thank you. I was so hungry and dreading a microwave meal.” The microwave oven had been one of the few appliances she’d added since moving onto the boat two years before. It worked well here in the marina with the electrical hookup. It was harder to power when she took the boat out on the open water, so those days she ate sandwiches.
Arthur had taken most of his meals at the naval base when he’d lived here, as had Kit when she’d been with the Coast Guard. Unfortunately, her schedule as a detective didn’t always mesh with take-out places, so she depended on that microwave at the end of a long day.
“I told you that I’d cook for you,” Akiko said mildly. “I’m cooking for myself anyway, and I don’t mind doubling up for you.”
Kit got up to wash her dishes. It was an old argument. Akiko always offered, but Kit never wanted to put her out. “I hate to put you to the trouble.”
Akiko shook her head. “I like to cook, unlike you. I don’t mind, Kitty-Cat. I really don’t. In fact, I think I’m going to take the decision out of your hands. From here on out, I will double whatever dinners I make and just bring them out to you. I’ll send you a bill for your share of the groceries at the end of the month.”
Kit smiled over at her. “You’re too good to me.”
Akiko smirked. “I know.”
Kit finished the cleanup—there was no room in the galley for dirty dishes to pile up—and made herself a cup of tea. “Today sucked. And I can’t tell you much about it.”
“Well, I figured there was a murder,” Akiko said dryly as Kit reclaimed her place on the sofa. “Considering you’re Homicide and all.”
“Yeah,” Kit murmured, thinking of the body in Longview Park, buried in an unmarked grave, her hands restrained in sparkly pink handcuffs. Jaelyn Watts, on the cusp of starting her life. “We ID’d the vic. I hate it when they’re young.”
“How young?” Akiko asked, sympathy in her dark eyes.
Kit hesitated. The girl’s age wasn’t going to be a secret when the details were released. She could share that much. “Sixteen.”
“Oh.” There was a wealth of understanding in that single syllable.
Akiko had never known Wren, having come to live with the McKittricks shortly after the murder, but she knew all about it. She knew how much it had ripped Kit apart. She, along with Harlan and Betsy, had been responsible for stitching Kit back together.
In the years that followed, Akiko had become Kit’s very best friend.
“Yeah, oh.”
“You’ll find who did it,” Akiko said with unshakable confidence. “And if you don’t, no one else could’ve, either.”
Akiko always knew the right thing to say. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I just walked Snick before you got home, so she’s good for the night. Get to bed. If I know you, you’ll be back at the station first thing in the morning.”
That was the truth. “Stay tonight. I don’t like you driving home alone so late.”
Akiko laughed. “It’s only midnight, Kit, and I don’t turn into a pumpkin. I can take care of myself, you know. But I’ll stay, if for no other reason than to make you a decent breakfast before you head back.” She pointed an accusing finger. “I saw those Pop-Tarts in your cupboard.”
“Hey. They’re fortified with vitamins and minerals.”
Akiko snorted. “Right.”
“You don’t have to get up and make me breakfast. Sleep in on your day off.”
“I’ll go back to bed after you have some nutrition, then I’ll take Snick and go to Mom and Pop’s. I don’t get a day off very often, and I think I’ll spend it weeding.”
While the McKittricks never asked for help, the majority of their former fosters regularly returned to the farm to assist with the never-ending chores.
Kit hadn’t been out to the farm in too long, though. Not for a whole day. She’d been working, investigating cold cases when she’d closed the current ones.
Navarro was right. She did work nonstop this time of year. She figured that Harlan, Betsy, and the rest of the family understood, but maybe she shouldn’t expect them to.
She showered and changed into her pj’s, taking a moment to retrieve the carved figurines from her pocket before shoving the day’s clothes into a laundry bag. She held the little wooden cat-and-bird, studying the bird perched on the cat’s head.
Akiko, already on her side of the bed, took off her headphones. “Pop gave it to you.”
“Yeah. He came by today. He and Mom were picking up a new kid downtown. He said I could keep it in my pocket. For luck.”
“I saw it last Sunday at dinner. It’s different from your usual Wren carving.”
“He gave me one of those, too. And one to Baz.” She placed the other carving, the lone bird, on the shelf with the others. “I’m going to need a bigger shelf.”
Akiko didn’t say anything because there really wasn’t anything to say. Kit loved that about her. Her sister didn’t fill silences when she didn’t need to.
Kit locked up her gun and put the cat-and-bird on the table with her keys and wallet. It would go into her pocket tomorrow and every day thereafter. “Come on, Snick. Time for bed.”
The dog jumped up onto the bed, snuggling between her and Akiko. Kit set an alarm on her phone, then stared at the audio app she still had open. She’d been listening to the anonymous call off and on all day. She still didn’t recognize the voice. Slipping in her earbuds, she got under the covers and started the recording again, putting it on repeat.
Hi. This message is for homicide detective Kit McKittrick. I have reason to believe you’ll find the victim of a murder in Longview Park at the following coordinates.
He sounded nervous. And maybe scared, as well.
Who was he? Why did he pick me? Do I know him?
How did he know about the grave?
Could he be the killer?
Kit found herself not wanting him to be. He sounded . . . sincere.
Rookie mistake, assuming a person’s sincerity.
She petted Snick, long strokes over her curly cream-colored coat. And listened to the caller’s voice over and over until she finally fell asleep.
CHAPTER TWO
SDPD, San Diego, California
Tuesday, April 5, 8:05 a.m.
Well?” Navarro asked when Baz and Kit were sitting in his office the next morning.
“We’re ninety-nine percent certain that the vic’s name is Jaelyn Watts,” Baz said. “She was sixteen years old when she disappeared last February, fourteen months ago. We’re going out later this morning to see the family. Hopefully their dentist will have dental records or the parents will have saved her toothbrush or hairbrush for DNA confirmation.”
“Her parents filed a missing-person report the same day she disappeared,” Kit said, placing a copy of it on Navarro’s desk. “But she’d recently played hooky to go to L.A. to try out for a part in a sitcom, so she was treated as a runaway. Parents contacted LAPD, who checked with the production company that had held the audition. They had no record of seeing her after she’d disappeared.”
“She obviously never made it to L.A.” Baz sighed. “She never made it out of San Diego.”
