Page 80 of Dead Man's List

“Not really. She didn’t seem to know him.”

“Anything else you can remember about Shelley?”

Maggie shook her head. “Just that she seemed so lost when she finally got clean. I think she’d been using for a long time.” She checked the time. “I’m so sorry, Sam, but I have to get back.”

“So do I. My next session starts in ten minutes.”

“Will you get lunch?” she asked, her tone motherly.

“I have a sandwich in my desk drawer.”

They rose together, Sam spying the server bringing him his coffee. “I’ll get both of these,” he said, giving the server enough cash for both his and Maggie’s coffee, plus a generous tip.

The server beamed. “Thank you, Dr.Reeves. Have a nice day.”

Maggie linked her hand through his arm as they left the coffee shop. “Come here often?”

“Too often. I need to kick the caffeine habit, but that’s not going to happen today.” They got outside and Sam gave her hand a squeeze. “Don’t be a stranger, Maggie.”

“Same, Sam. And enjoy your new job. I catch your name in the news every so often. You seem to be doing well.”

Sam smiled. “I am.”

Maggie began to walk away, backward so that she could still see him. “You’re happy?”

“Yes, ma’am. Very happy.”

“Good. You deserve some happy.” She waved before heading to her car.

Sam took a sip of the coffee, hoping it would keep him going for the rest of the afternoon. He hadn’t slept well last night. Thoughts of Kit had kept him awake.

She’d said she cared about him. Which he’d already known, but it was really nice to hear. But that she’d admitted it had scared her. Still, she hadn’t taken it back and he’d almost kissed her.

He hadn’t because he was hoping to leave her wanting more.

Too much of Sam and she’d be all one-and-done. She’d walk away before they’d even gotten started. So he’d left her hanging and—at the time—had been glad he had. She’d nearly pouted.

Later, lying alone in his bed, he’d wished that he’d kissed her.But he’d have to be strong. Kit needed slow and steady, no matter how much it was killing him.

At least he could give her some new intel. They now knew how Shelley’s killer found out she was an addict.

San Diego PD, San Diego, California

Tuesday, January 10, 11:40 a.m.

Navarro sat behind his desk, his chin resting on his steepled fingers as Kit and Connor brought him up to speed.

“So did you find who you were looking for?” Navarro asked. “Anyone who might have been the BFF of Brooks Munro, a.k.a. Monroe Brookman?”

“We might have,” Kit said. “We were able to talk to the wardens or sheriffs of four of the jails where Munro did time over the years.”

“All as Monroe Brookman?”

Connor nodded. “Theft mostly. A lot of swindling.”

“And his BFF?” Navarro asked.

“Munro seemed to make friends wherever he went,” Kit said, “but we’ve crossed most of the names off the list because they’re either in prison or dead. We’ve got two possibilities. Two distinctly different people from a height standpoint, so we don’t have one guy changing his name again. At least not before he came to San Diego. The first is Walter Grossman. He’s over six feet tall and built like a tank. He’s done time for forgery. The other is Darrin Carter. He’s five-four and, from his photo, he looks like a light breeze would blow him away. We’ve got mug shots of both, and we’re going to show them to the pilot who was going to fly Veronica out of here yesterday.”