Page 8 of Dead Man's List

His smile was pure delight. “You did?”

“I did. It’s been too long since we went on our fishing date.” She rose on her toes. “Too long since you kissed me good night.”

His swallow was audible. “Thought about that, did you?”

“I did. Did you?”

“Yeah. Every night. Every morning. And maybe a few times during the day.”

“Same,” she whispered, their lips now brushing. An almost-kiss. If she leaned up just a little, she could kiss him for real. She closed the distance between them and then his mouth was finally on hers. His kiss was sweet and undemanding, but his hands, still cupping her face, trembled.

He wanted more.

And so do I.

Dimly the sound of barking intruded. Two different barks. Two different dogs.

Dogs.

Snickerdoodle.

Kit no longer held her leash.

Shit.

They pulled away at the same time, each looking around for their dogs because Sam had dropped Siggy’s leash, too.

“Siggy!” he called.

“Snickerdoodle!” Kit shouted, then huffed a relieved breath when Snick came trotting around a cluster of small boulders, her tail wagging. But she was alone. No sign of Siggy.

Sam left the trail, taking off at a jog. Kit grabbed Snickerdoodle’s leash and followed him.

Then stopped dead in her tracks.

“Dead” being the operative word.

Siggy had a shoe in his mouth. A man’s wingtip, size eleven or thereabouts. The shoe’s mate was half buried in the sand on a man’s foot.

A very dead man, lying faceup in the desert sand.

What was left of his face, anyway. The animals of the desert had been snacking.

So gross.

The body was positioned in a hollow beneath the boulders, sheltered from the wind. Still, the sand had swept over the body, covering the legs, one foot, and part of one arm.

Accident or murder? She took a few steps closer and had her answer. The man’s neck was an open gash, now home to dozens of flies. His throat had clearly been slit, ear to ear.

Be careful what you wish for,she thought, remembering how she’d hoped for a murder the night before.

Kit glanced at Sam, whose gaze was fixed on the man’s face, his eyes wide, his face slack with shock. “Sam? You okay?”

He cleared his throat roughly. “Well, shit.”

She nodded once. “Shit indeed. I need to call this in.”

“Wait.” He edged closer, gaze still fixed on the victim. “Look at his face.”