Page 21 of Dead Man's List

“We’d appreciate that,” Kit said. “Depending on who we interview, we might ask you along for the ride.”

Sam’s nod was immediate, if not a little grim. “Absolutely.”

San Diego PD, San Diego, California

Saturday, January 7, 10:30 p.m.

Sam hit the rewind button with a silent sigh. He’d gotten lost in thought again and missed about two minutes of footage from the security camera on the guard shack at the entrance to Munro’s gated community.

It wasn’t because the work was tedious—even though it was. It wasn’t even that Kit was at the end of the table, talking animatedly with Connor, her blue eyes focused and intelligent as they explored more of Munro’s life for investigative direction, even though it was that, too.

It was the knowledge that she’d had to stab her foster father with a letter opener to keep from getting assaulted.

Sam had been standing outside the door, his fist raised to knock, when he heard Connor’s stumbling question. Had Kit been raped as a child? Or sexually abused in some other way?

Of course Sam had wondered. How could he not? But he would never have asked her.

Hearing her tell her “origin story,” as she’d called it, had been devastating. She’d been eleven years old, for God’s sake.Eleven.

Then when she was twelve, running away with Wren…

There’d been something in there that she hadn’t shared. He knew the cadence of her speech well enough to figure that out. Plus, there’d been that little pause after he’d confessed his eavesdropping. She’d been freaked out at first, and then her eyes had narrowed, just the slightest bit. As if replaying everything she’d said.

And the look of relief in her eyes had been unmistakable.

Something else had happened when she and Wren had run away. But he wouldn’t ask. Someday she’d tell him herself.

Or she wouldn’t. Either way, it didn’t change how he felt about her.

She’d just been a little girl, and his heart ached. But she wasn’t a little girl now. She was a grown woman who’d made something spectacular of her life, and he was in awe of her.

But fantasies of punishing those sons of bitches who’d tried to hurt her in the past would have to wait. Sam needed to help her in this moment.

He concentrated on the camera feed once again, staring at the monitor Kit had set up for him. And finally watched a trailer driving in and out of Munro’s gated community.

“I think I’ve got it,” he called to the two detectives, who instantly stopped talking and came to look over his shoulder. “Thetrailer is pulled by a Ford truck. The sign on the side of the trailer says ‘Norton Landscaping.’ I don’t know if it’s a real company or not.”

Kit was already googling the landscaping company on her phone. “It is a real company, owned by David Norton. From their website, it looks like they employ at least twenty people.”

“Seems bold,” Sam said, “using their own trailer. I wonder if Munro’s killer stole it.”

Connor was typing on his own phone. “I’ll look up the owner and we can pay him a personal visit at home first thing in the morning.”

“We should check the stolen property reports first. They may have already reported it missing.” Kit smiled at Sam. “Thank you. You saved us a lot of time and aggravation.”

Sam’s cheeks heated, but he was pleased. He liked doing things for Kit. She was so self-sufficient, she often made it difficult to help her. “No problem. I wish the camera had gotten the driver’s face.”

“Hopefully the gate guard got a description,” Connor said. “We’ve already got the guard on our interview list, but now we know what to specifically ask him. We can ask the neighbors, too. Hopefully someone saw this guy before he put on his mask.”

Sam wasn’t so sure. “People tend to ignore manual laborers. My mother is an exception. She bakes banana nut bread for whoever does even the smallest job, then sits and chats with them. But even she can’t tell me what they looked like. She does know the name of every spouse, child, and pet of every plumber and electrician who’s ever come to her house. But she couldn’t describe them.”

“That’s so nice,” Connor said. “Banana nut bread is delicious.”

Sam grimaced. “Not Mom’s. Unfortunately for the workers, my mom is a terrible cook and an even worse baker, but her heart’s in the right place. My point is, I’d be surprised if anyone really noticed this guy’s face if he was posing as a worker.”

Kit nodded. “You’re probably right. But most neighborhoods have at least one super nosy person who watches from the window. Maybe Munro’s will have one of those.”

“I wonder if Norton Landscaping has existing customers in Munro’s neighborhood.” Sam opened the company’s website and clicked the testimonials tab. “If they were there often, the gate guard might have just waved the driver through, and no one would have thought twice about the trailer.”

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