Kit was impressed. “Thank you, Kennedy. Do you think your grandparents will believe you? Do you expect trouble from them?”
“I think they’ll be okay, once they’re over the shock. That my father’s blackmail led to the death of my mother will be in my favor.”
“Okay.” Kit gave Kennedy her business card. “Send your statement to me at this email. And, trust me, honey. You are very brave.”
“Thank you,” Kennedy whispered.
New Horizons, San Diego, California
Thursday, January 12, 6:30 p.m.
“Dr.Sam?”
Sam turned his gaze from the window of his office at New Horizons, immediately feeling a smile curve his lips at the sight of Emma in his doorway. “Emma. How are you? How is Rita?”
That Rita’s understandable meltdown had happened onlytwenty-four hours before seemed impossible. It had been a very long night and an even longer day. But he was nearly finished with his volunteer shift at the shelter and could soon go home and finally get some sleep.
“She’s okay. She stayed home another day.” Emma’s smile was fleeting, but real. “Mom McK’s orders. Can I come in for a minute?”
“Of course, Em. Please, sit down.”
“I hope I’m not bothering you.”
Sam took the chair beside her. It was much less threatening than having a desk between them. “You could never bother me. What’s on your mind?”
Emma was studying his face. “You look tired.”
“I am, a little. But not too tired to hear what you have to say.”
“Look, I’m new here and I know that I haven’t earned the right to—”
“Emma,” Sam interrupted, because he wasn’t going to let her continue that train of thought. “You don’t have to earn rights here. We value you—your time, your empathy. Your brain, because you are so smart.”
Emma blushed. “Tiffany’s smarter.”
“Tiffany is a little more street smart, perhaps, but she was on the street longer than you were. She had to be street smart to survive. You are both highly intelligent young women. And I think that you see things adults might miss.”
He had the satisfaction of knowing he’d hit the target when Emma straightened, confidence filling her eyes. “The kids talk. The new kids, I mean. Not so much around you, but around Tiff, Rita, and me? They talk.” She blew out a breath. “I overheard something two nights ago at McKittrick House that I shouldn’t have listened to.”
“Kit’s conversation with Harlan?”
She nodded. “I didn’t mean to. Honest.”
“I know. Kit knows that, too.” And Sam figured that Kit would be a lot more careful where she discussed cases with her father in the future. “She’s not mad at you, you know.”
“I know.” She was quiet a moment, but that was Emma’s way. She thought first, then sometimes spoke. Her best friend Tiffany was the opposite. Thoughts flew from Tiffany’s brain through her mouth with no filter. “I heard Kit say that the killer has a beard. Like one that goes all over his face and down his neck.”
Sam stilled, because this wasn’t what he’d been anticipating. “Yes. It’s frustrating because that’s the only feature on this man that people remember.”
She grimaced. “That’s what makes a good disguise.”
“Do you know anything about this man, Em?”
“Not me. But one of the girls—one of the new girls—she does. She was just telling some of the others that if they went back on the street and started…” She hesitated. “Well, you know…hooking.”
“I know some of the kids sell their bodies, Em. I hate that for them, but they’re doing it to survive. No judgment. Not from me.”
She relaxed a little more. “I didn’t think so. Well, this girl was telling some of the others that when they left and went back on the street to be careful. There was this guy with a beard like that. A neckbeard?”