Page 18 of Dead Man's List

“I’m glad you found that barn,” Connor said, his voice catching.

“Me too. But those foster fathers really were pedos. This guy who Munro accused wasn’t.”

“William Weaver.” Connor taped Weaver’s photo onto the whiteboard. “His wife left him and took his children. He lost his job and his home, and vowed retribution against Brooks Munro. Who denied he’d spread the rumor, of course.”

“Of course. But by the time Weaver had been proven innocent, the damage had been done.”

“Hell of a thing to do for a city council seat.”

“Had to have been lucrative for Munro. The council salary isn’t that high, and Wilhelmina paid for the house, but he bought the Ferrari himself.”

That information had come from Rafferty, who’d also disclosed the amount Wilhelmina had given Munro as allowance. It hadn’t been enough to finance a Ferrari lifestyle, so money had to have been pouring in from somewhere else.

“That model Ferrari isn’t all that expensive,” Connor said.

Kit coughed. “Um, for those of us who don’t have trust funds, a quarter mil is a helluva lot of money.”

Connor winced. “Sorry. I meant there are far more expensive models. He got the bottom-of-the-line Ferrari. Top-of-the-line is twice the cost. So it was more about image than quality.”

“Rich people,” Kit muttered.

Connor chuckled. “I drive a Toyota, y’know.”

“I know. It’s why no one has keyed your car in the parking lot.”

“My strategy is working.” He spread out the photos CSU had taken of Munro’s garage after Wilhelmina had reported him missing. “His Ferrari is gone.”

There’d been a pool of blood where the sports car should have been parked.

“I know. But why? Was Munro injured when he discovered someone stealing his car?”

Connor wrote it on the whiteboard underTheories. “It’s possible, considering they dumped his body in the desert. I’m thinking they didn’t expect it to be found.”

“He wasn’t buried, though. Not well, anyway.” That bothered Kit. “Why didn’t his killer at least try to bury him?”

“Are we sure he didn’t and the wind didn’t shift the sand away?”

“No. But the park rangers didn’t think that was the case because of where the body was positioned. It was behind some boulders.” She found the photo and grimaced. The body truly had been a mess. Poor Sam. He wasn’t used to such things. Not yet, anyway. If he continued as a police shrink, he’d see more.

A soft knock on the open door had her whipping her head toward the sound.

And speak of…well, not the devil. Sam Reeves could never be a devil.

But there he was, holding a familiar warming bag. It belonged to her mother and had “McK” written in bold Sharpie on every side.

“Sam?” Connor asked. “What’re you doing here?”

“Dinner,” Sam said.

Kit was starving. And whatever her mother had made smelled amazing. “I thought you were going to text to make sure we were here.”

“I did. Six times.”

Kit checked her phone. Sure enough, there were six unread texts. “I’m sorry. We lost track of time.”

Sam smiled, but it looked forced. His face was pale, his eyes stricken. He must have still been upset over finding Munro’s body, so Kit turned the photo over so that he wouldn’t have to see it again. “I figured as much,” he said. “Can I come in?”

Connor gestured him to the table. “Of course. Is there food for me, too?”