Page 82 of Dead Man's List

Connor snorted softly. “BOGO get-out-of-jail-free cards. You or me?” He pulled a coin from his pocket. “Flip you for it.”

Kit smiled, feeling a little feral. “Let’s both go in. Shake Miss Letterman up a little.”

“Cool. What’s our strategy?”

Kit shrugged. “Show the pilot the mug shots of Munro’s prison BFFs. Let’s see how he reacts.”

“I think we should have a better game plan than that. I pulled his financials.”

“When did you do that?” Kit asked, wishing she’d done the same.

“I came in early this morning since I had to take off for dinner with CeCe’s folks. Steven Neal owns his plane, but financially he’s barely holding on by his fingernails. He’s living month to month. He’s behind on his taxes and his checking account balance is less than a hundred bucks.”

“A private pilot who owns his own plane should be able to consistently pull in decent money.”

“He actually does,” Connor said. “His schedule is booked for the next four months, and his documented income stream is consistent and robust. Those are the customers who paid for their flights with a credit card or wire transfer. We know at least one customer—Veronica—paid in cash, so there might be even more money coming in that doesn’t go through his business accounts. We can check any flight plans he submitted to see how many extras he flew. But he spent ahellof a lot of money at the racetrack over the summer. By September, he was charging thousands of dollars to his credit cards up at Del Mar.”

The horse racing track had never held appeal for Kit. The animals were beautiful, but even the thought of gambling had always made her slightly ill.

“And that was just his credit cards,” Connor went on. “Who knows what he’s done with the cash payments and tips?”

“Huh.” She went back to studying the pilot, who now sat with his head in his hands. “That means if he gets stuck in jail, he won’t be able to fulfill his contracted jobs.”

“Which means he’ll be deep in debt in less than two weeks.”

She looked up at Connor again. “You’re right. Scaring him with jail time is a better way to go in. Anything else?”

“He was divorced two years ago and has shared custody of his two daughters. Child support is a hefty part of his monthly expenses. He’d be more than able to afford it if he hadn’t spent so much at the racetrack.”

“At least he pays child support,” Kit muttered, because so many parents did not. “But that he does pay it means he cares about his kids and will want to see them grow up, not see them through plexiglass on prison visitation day. Nice work.”

“Thank you. I felt bad leaving last night.”

She smiled at him. “You shouldn’t. It’s balance, and you’re doing well with that. Don’t be like me.”

Connor nudged her shoulder with his. “You’re improving. Everyone says so. Come on. Let’s find out if the pilot knows either of Munro’s prison buddies. Bad cop or good cop?”

“You be bad cop. Letterman isn’t going to believe your good cop again so soon. It’s been months since I’ve tangled with her.”

“Oh, I think she remembers you,” Connor said slyly. “You got the one she let get away.”

“ShedroveSam away,” Kit corrected with a huff. “Cheating on him.”

Connor chuckled. “Down, girl.”

Kit sighed. She needed to stow her personal issues with Laura Letterman. And Kit had “got” Sam?

She guessed that time would tell.

By the time they walked into the interview room, Kit was composed and ready for Laura Letterman. The woman wouldn’t want her client to say a word, but she and Connor could make the man talk. Kit was certain of it.

Laura gave Kit and Connor a narrow-eyed glare. “I’ve told my client that you’ll try to rattle him. He’s not to say a word.”

Steven Neal lifted his head. His eyes were bleary, as if he hadn’t slept a wink. His skin was pale and his hands shook.

Kit wondered if gambling was the man’s only vice. He looked like he was going through withdrawal.

“We really just want his help,” Kit said, taking a seat across from the pilot, Connor sitting on her left. He set the folder holding the mug shots on the table.

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