Page 74 of Dead Man's List

“Neither do I. But if he meant me harm, I’d already be dead.”

Kit shuddered. “Don’t say that.”

“Doesn’t make it any more likely to happen, Kit.”

“I know.” She pointed to her head. “Here. But here…” She tapped her chest. “Gives me the wiggins.”

“That’s something, I guess.”

“That’s a lot,” she said quietly. “Be careful, Sam. Promise me.”

He met her eyes, his sober. “I promise. If you promise the same.”

She nodded once and held out her pinkie.

He chuckled and pinkie-swore with her. “Feel better now?” he asked.

“Not really. I’d feel better if you went into a bunker and never came out, but I feel that way about everyone I care about.” She sucked in a breath, realizing what she’d said as soon as the words had come out of her mouth. The words, and the sentiment behind them, hovered between them.

Sam just regarded her evenly from behind his Clark Kent glasses. “Gonna take it back?”

“No,” she said firmly. “No take-backs.”

His gaze grew heated as it dropped to her mouth, but he quickly turned his focus to the whiteboard. “Anything else?”

She was disappointed. He’d considered kissing her and he hadn’t. They were at work, though.Maybe later.

“The Ferrari,” she said. “That’s been bugging me. Goddard hasn’t found a trace of it online and none of the car dealers have seen it. Munro’s killer could be taking it far away to sell and could even be keeping it as a souvenir, like you said. But why? Why take the car at all? It complicates everything. I might have thoughtthat it was a last-minute decision, that maybe there was evidence in or on the car that could connect to the killer, but he was planning thistwo monthsago.” That he’d asked one of Norton’s employees about the wrap so long ago was important new information and had shifted her perspective. “So why go to all the trouble of stealing the car?”

“If I were that filled with rage at Munro, enough to be able to do those things that were done to him—either by myself or as part of a group—and if I’d been avictimof Munro’s blackmailing…”

She sat up straighter. “I’d see that Ferrari asmine.Mymoney bought it. My money that Munrostole. I’d want something back for the money he took.”

“Bingo.”

“Huh.” She tilted her head, considering it. “So he might not ever sell it or even drive it. Just having it might be enough.”

“Like the people who buy stolen paintings and hide them in a vault. They know they have it and no one else can enjoy it and that’s part of the appeal.”

“So there’s a good chance his killer still has the car.”

“I’d say there’s a very good chance.”

“And when we find the killer, we’ll find the car and that will be enough to put him away right there.”

“Assuming there was just one killer.”

Kit made a face. “Dammit.”

“Why are you so against multiple killers? It worked for Agatha Christie.”

Kit laughed. “Yeah, well, I’m no Poirot.”

“You’re better.”

Her cheeks heated. “Aw, shucks.” She pointed to the whiteboard, uncomfortable with his compliment. “What about the mysterious PI?”

He settled in the chair. “I’ve been thinking about that, too. Tobe making the kind of money Munro was pulling in—sounds like about ten million over the last eight years?”

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