Page 96 of Dead Man's List

“Hush. You are our child, Kit. You come when you need to. I’m glad you’re here. I’malwaysglad you’re here.”

She leaned into him again. “Thanks, Pop. I’m always glad to be here.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and steered her into the warm house with its unmistakable smells of home. Fresh laundry, lemon furniture polish, and apple pie. “Mom saved you some dinner. She was hoping you’d be back.”

The house was quiet, the only downstairs light the one in the kitchen.

“Rita and the others went to bed already? And where is my dog?”

“Snickerdoodle is upstairs in their room, being spoiled. The girls are doing their homework. Tiffany has a test tomorrow and she’s nervous, so they’re helping her study. I keep hearing giggles, though, so I don’t know how well they’re studying. Akiko is in bed. She got…weepy.”

Kit’s eyes widened once again. “Akiko cried?”

Harlan shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t know what to do, soMom got her upstairs and into bed. If she’s awake when you go in, make sure she has some aspirin and some water. And maybe a trash can next to her bed.”

Kit cringed. “If she barfs, I’ll hold her hair back.”

Harlan laughed, a deep quiet laugh that was as much a part of this house as the good smells. “I knew I could count on you. Betsy, Kit’s here.”

“I heard her drive up.” Betsy linked her arm through Kit’s and walked her into the kitchen. “AndI saw you on the new camera. Who were you texting?”

“How did you know I was texting?”

“I didn’t,” Betsy said with a chuckle. “I suspected, but you just confirmed it.”

Kit had to laugh. “You’ve been watching TV cop shows again, Mom.”

“Yep.” Betsy busied herself warming Kit’s dinner. “So…who were you texting?”

There was a hopeful note in her voice that made Kit nervous. Kit knew what her mother hoped for—that Kit was texting “someone special.” She didn’t want to admit it, even to her parents.

Because it was terrifying. And what if it didn’t work out?

What if it does?

Her folks had been with her every step of her life since she’d hidden in their barn as a twelve-year-old runaway. Surely she could pay them back with the news they clearly craved.

She drew a deep breath. “It was Sam.”

Betsy grinned slyly. “I knew it,” she whispered.

“Betsy,” Harlan cautioned as he sat down, carving knife in one hand and some partially carved wood in the other.

“It’s okay, Pop. I figure I owe you two some good news every once in a while.”

Both of her parents stopped what they were doing and turned to stare at each other before staring at her.

“You owe us nothing,” Betsy said. “Your private life is exactly that. Private. Now, if you want to tell me, I’m all ears. But if I ask and you don’t want to share, then say so, and I’ll let it go.”

Kit smiled, inhaling when Betsy put an overflowing plate in front of her. Tonight had been Swedish meatball night and Kit was a total fan. “I know. But you do deserve to know when things are good. Not just when they’re bad.”

Harlan went back to carving. “So things are good with Sam?”

Kit chuckled. “Yes, Pop. He’s asked me out on another date, for Saturday night.”

Betsy took the chair opposite Kit and sipped on a cup of coffee. “And if you’re working?”

“Unless I’m hip-deep in a crime scene, I’m taking time off for dinner.”

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