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Carmel Valley, California

Friday, January 6, 9:45 p.m.

It was, Kit thought as she drew her jacket tighter, too cold to be sitting out in the barn. But McKittrick House, despite its homey warmth and delicious smells of apple pie and clean laundry, was not where she needed to be right now.

There were too many people in the big house. She loved them all. Her parents, her brothers and sisters—foster kids, all fifteen of them. It was the first Friday of the new year, and they’d gathered to celebrate.

They were one big truly happy family.

They were one big truly nosy family. Everyone wanted to know if she’d had her date with Sam Reeves yet.

She had not. And she might not. Their second date, which had been hanging over her head for more than a month, was now upon her. She’d spent six months during the spring and summer avoiding the police psychologist. Because I was scared.

She’d known that she’d hurt him eventually because she was shit with relationships. And Sam deserved better. But then she’d agreed to go on one date and, in a moment of weakness, asked him on a second. That had been over a month ago and life had interfered. But now it was time to face the music. And I’m still scared.

“Cold feet,” she muttered to herself. “It’s just cold feet.”

She shifted on the hay bale, glad she’d had the presence of mind to throw a saddle blanket over it before she’d sat down. Hay bales looked like perfect seats but they were prickly as hell.

Like me, she thought with a sigh.

Her sigh echoed back to her, and Kit stiffened. She’d thought she was alone.

“Hello?” she called. “Come on out, whoever you are.”

One of the stall doors opened, revealing a teenage girl with pink and blue streaks through her sandy blond hair.

“Rita? What are you doing out here?”

Her foster sister—soon to be legally adopted sister—stepped into the dim light. “I needed some quiet.”

“Wanna sit and be quiet with me? Or I can leave.”

Rita’s smile was wobbly. “I’d like to sit and be quiet with you.”

She sat on the bale, Kit’s arm wrapping around Rita’s thin shoulders. “You’re not wearing a coat. You’re going to freeze out here.”

“I’m fine ,” Rita said with a condescending huff. “It’s not that cold.”

But Rita was trembling, so Kit tightened her hold. “Mom and Pop know where you are?”

Rita nodded. “I didn’t want them to worry.”

“Thank you.” Kit would say no more, giving Rita the quiet she’d requested. If the girl wanted to talk, Kit would listen.

Rita sighed again, long and loud. “Cold feet, huh?”

Kit frowned. “Did you hear me say that?”

“Yep. You’re going on that date tomorrow, Kit.”

Kit’s frown became a scowl. “Says who?”

“Says me. And Mom and Pop and all the others back at the house. You’re meeting Sam tomorrow for your date in the desert if we have to tie you up and drive you there ourselves.”

“That’s kidnapping,” Kit said lightly, wishing she were certain the family wouldn’t do such a thing. But they just might. They liked the psychologist who, for some reason, still seemed to want to date Kit. “I could arrest you.”

“It would be worth it.”

Kit let go of Rita’s shoulders to cross her arms tightly over her chest. “Damn, girl,” she grumbled.

Rita laughed, a sweet sound that they were all hearing more often these days. “You will go, right?”

Kit shot Rita a sour look. “I don’t know.”

Rita shook her head. “Kit, what are you afraid of?”

Kit exhaled quietly. “I don’t know.”

Rita put her arm around Kit’s shoulders, and Kit’s heart cracked a little. She loved Rita so very much, even though the girl could be a little shit when it came to Kit dating Sam.

“You wanna know what I think?” Rita murmured.

“I don’t know,” Kit said again.

“Too bad. I’m going to tell you anyway. I think you’re scared you’ll like him too much. That you’ll have too good a time and he’ll want a third date. Am I close?”

Yes. “Maybe.”

“I also think you’ve had too much time to build this up in your mind. You were supposed to have this date over a month ago, but things happened and it got drawn out and out and out.”

Defensiveness coiled in Kit’s gut. “Not my fault.”

It really hadn’t been.

“No,” Rita said, speaking carefully now. “You had a case and Sam understood that. He had an emergency with one of the teens at the shelter, and you understood that. Then you had another case—which, by the way, I don’t think you had to work that weekend. I think that was you having cold feet.”

She was right again, Kit thought. It rankled, being called out by a fourteen-year-old. “How would you even know that?”

“I asked Connor when he came last week to bring Christmas presents for Mom and Pop. He said the case was important, but not so much that you couldn’t have investigated the next day. He was peeved that he had to cancel his date with CeCe because you got scared of your date with Sam.”

Kit blew out an irritated breath. Her partner in the homicide department had a big mouth. “Connor Robinson told you that?”

“He did.” Rita chuckled. “Then he begged me not to tell you that he’d said that because he was afraid you’d get even with him.”

“He’d be right,” Kit said darkly. “Besides, Sam canceled most of the dates. Not me.”

“Well, yeah. His father went into the hospital.”

Sam’s father had had a small stroke and, while he’d be okay, Sam had spent most of December in Scottsdale. Kit had meant to drive to Arizona, to be there for Sam, but she’d lost her nerve.

She hated herself for that. But Sam’s father’s stroke had made her paranoid about leaving Harlan and Betsy. They were about the same age as Sam’s dad. That something could happen to them was terrifying.

“You know too damn much, kid,” she said, sounding petulant to her own ears.

Rita tightened her hold on Kit’s shoulders. “Kit. You like Sam. I know you do. What’s the worst that can happen?”

That I’ll fall for him. That I’ll come to need him.

That he’ll come to need me.

And that was too much responsibility. “Since when are you a therapist?” she asked, a little more nastily than she’d intended.

“Since you needed one,” Rita shot back, unfazed. “Look. You can talk to me or not. But don’t cancel your date. Please. I think you need him.”

Kit’s chin came up. “I don’t need anyone.”

“That’s a lie,” Rita said softly. “And you promised that you’d never lie to me.”

Kit sighed. Once again, the kid was right. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Why are you doing this to yourself?”

Kit’s lips twitched. “You’ve been picking up techniques from Dr.Carlisle.”

Rita’s therapist was Sam’s boss, and the woman made Kit nervous. She—and Rita—saw far too much.

“Yes, I have. I’m thinking about being a therapist, too.”

“I thought you wanted to be a cop.”

“Maybe I do. I’m fourteen. I’ve got time to decide.”

Time. That was the one thing Kit wasn’t sure that she had. She did want this date with Sam and she was scared. But time was passing and, as so many helpful people had reminded her, someone else might snap Sam up.

Because he was a good man.

Too good for me.

“Why are you out here?” Kit asked, desperate to refocus their conversation. “What’s bothering you?”

Rita studied her, her gaze cagey. “I’ll tell you if you promise to go on that date and not stand Dr.Sam up.”

Kit closed her eyes. “Why is this so important to you?”

“Because I love you,” Rita said, so softly that Kit nearly missed it.

“Shit.” Kit’s eyes burned. “No fair.”

Rita shrugged. “I calls ’em like I sees ’em.”

Which was one of Kit’s favorite phrases. Using my words against me.

“Brat.”

“Promise me,” Rita murmured.

“ Fine. I promise. I will go. I will try to have fun. I just…” She trailed off, swallowing back the words.

Rita met her gaze. “You what?”

“I don’t want to hurt him,” she confessed. “I’m shit with relationships. And why am I getting dating advice from a fourteen-year-old?”

“Because I’m wise beyond my years,” Rita said dryly. “You said so yourself, just last week.”

“Brat.”

“Just…breathe, Kit. It’s what you always tell me to do.”

“You have thrown way too many of my own words back at me tonight. Fine. I promise I will go on the date. Now you spill. Why are you here?”

Rita bit her lip. “Drummond’s trial is in two weeks.”

Kit brushed a lock of hair from Rita’s forehead. “I know, honey.”

Christopher Drummond had been arrested for murdering Rita’s mother. Rita had found the body and had known her mother’s employer had killed her, but no one had listened because the man was richer than God and, in San Diego, nearly as powerful.

Kit had gotten the case reopened, recusing herself because of her relationship with Rita. Connor Robinson had investigated the case and made the arrest. And, while it was not a slam dunk, the prosecutor was confident he could get a conviction.

But Rita would have to testify. And Christopher Drummond would be there, staring at her.

The worst part was that Drummond had sexually assaulted Rita as well. None of the family knew the details, and Rita wouldn’t talk about it. They knew only that it had been one of the times her mother had brought Rita to work with her, cleaning Drummond’s house. Rita had refused to press charges and they’d respected her decision. But that assault had to be dealt with at some point.

Rita’s apprehension about Drummond’s trial made perfect sense.

“I’m scared,” Rita confessed. “What if he gets off, Kit? What if he goes free?”

“Joel isn’t going to let that happen.” Joel Haley was the prosecutor, a friend of Kit’s, and Sam’s best friend. He knew what he was doing in a courtroom.

“You can’t promise that,” Rita said, staring at their feet.

“You’re right. I can’t. But I can promise Joel will do everything in his power to see Drummond put in a prison cell for the rest of his life.”

Rita lifted her gaze to Kit’s, her fear clear to see. “If he goes free, he’ll come after me. I’m the one who accused him. Even if I didn’t press charges on the…on the other thing.”

Kit’s jaw tightened, fury burning in her chest. “He may try, but to get to you he will have to go through me. And Mom and Pop and every single McKittrick. And we are formidable.”

Rita smiled, but it was forced. “We are.”

“I’ll be with you in the courtroom. Mom and Pop, too.”

“Promise?” Rita asked, sounding like a very young child.

“I promise. I’ve already told my boss, and he knows I’m taking vacation days for the trial.”

Rita’s eyes widened. “You’re taking vacation ? You never take vacation.”

“I am this time.” Kit booped Rita’s nose. “For you.”

Rita’s eyes filled with tears. “I do love you,” she whispered.

Kit couldn’t stop her own tears. The words were hard to say back, even though she felt them keenly. She’d only just learned to tell Harlan and Betsy that she loved them. But Rita needed the words.

“And I love you. I will keep you safe, Rita. Always.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“You never have to thank me,” Kit said fiercely. “You deserve to be protected.”

“Because you couldn’t protect Wren?”

Kit flinched, because Rita was right once again. Kit’s sister Wren had been murdered when they were only fifteen, and Kit had never recovered. They’d never found the doer, either. It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing Wren’s killer was out there somewhere, walking free.

Kit didn’t want Rita to live her life knowing that the monster who’d assaulted her and who’d killed her mother hadn’t paid for his crime.

“Partly because of Wren,” Kit admitted. “But mostly because of you. You are good and kind and you deserve the best life. A safe life.”

Rita smiled, and this time it was real. “You really do love me.”

Kit rested her forehead on Rita’s. “Even when you’re a brat who’s wise beyond her years.”

“Thank you.” Rita straightened. “We should get back in there. There won’t be any food left.” She rose and pointed a finger at Kit. “Tomorrow. You and Snickerdoodle are meeting Sam and Siggy.”

“Dogs and desert,” Kit said dutifully. “I promised. I won’t back out.”

Sam loved the desert, and Kit let herself remember that she’d wanted to know why. She let herself remember that Sam was good and kind and deserved a fun date.

Maybe I do, too.

“Thanks, Kit.” Rita hugged her, then skipped out of the barn before Kit could react.

Before she could hug her back. Kit wasn’t great at giving hugs.

Kit wasn’t great at too many things.

Sam was good at everything. He was a caring therapist, he volunteered his time with teens and the elderly, and he had the patience of a saint. He’d never pushed her or made her feel bad for needing her space or for being prickly. Sam was a good man, plain and simple.

With a big sigh, she folded the saddle blanket, putting it away. Then she walked out of the barn, only to see two glowing lights off to the side. Two lights that illuminated a man’s big hands as he carved a block of wood.

“Pop? What are you doing out here? You’ll catch cold.”

He looked up from where he sat on a bench, a flexible flashlight hanging from his neck. Kit had gotten the light for him for Christmas and she didn’t think she’d seen him without it since he’d opened the box. It provided enough light for him to get all the details right on whatever he was creating.

“I wanted to make sure you two were okay. I didn’t listen in.”

Kit settled next to him on the bench. “Rita was making me promise not to cancel my date with Sam.”

Harlan smiled. “Good for Rita. That girl is somethin’ else.”

“She is. She’s also nervous about the trial.”

Harlan’s smile faded. “I know. We’ll stand with her.”

“She’s afraid if Drummond gets off, he’ll come after her.”

Harlan’s jaw tightened. “I’m getting better security.”

There was something in his tone that gave Kit pause. “What’s going on, Pop?”

Harlan exhaled quietly. “Someone sent a letter to Rita. Unsigned.”

Kit tensed. “Tell me.”

Wordlessly, he pulled a folded paper from his pocket and handed it to her.

Kit unfolded the single page with trembling fingers.

I see your school is doing Alice in Wonderland this spring. Have fun being in the ensemble. It’s not a huge role, but I know you’ll do it brilliantly. I’ll be in the front row.

New rage bubbled up. Son of a fucking bitch. Drummond. But there was no signature. No evidence it had come from the disgraced former city council member. The man had been released on two million dollars bail and was freely walking the streets until his upcoming trial. Now Rita’s fear made even more sense. “When did this arrive?”

“Right before Christmas.”

Kit drew a breath, trying not to sound angry with her father. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now,” Harlan said. “Rita didn’t want you to know. She was afraid you’d go after Drummond. Get yourself in trouble.”

How Kit wanted to do just that. Get Drummond. Not get into trouble. But they’d be one and the same if she allowed herself the vengeance she craved on Rita’s behalf. “Do you think this is from him?”

“Don’t you?”

“Yes, but I imagine he’s smart enough not to have left any evidence. Did you report this?”

“Joel knows. That letter’s a copy. He has the original.”

“Okay.” The prosecutor on Rita’s case would do the right thing. “That has to be enough for now. And it shows that Drummond is scared. That’s positive.”

“Yeah.” Harlan’s throat worked as he tried to swallow. “I hate him,” he whispered.

“Me too. What security are you having installed?”

“Cameras along the property line and around the house. An alarm system on doors and windows. Cartridges for my shotgun.”

“Anson?” Kit ignored that last one.

“Of course.”

Anson was one of the fosters who’d passed through McKittrick House the year before Kit had arrived. He owned a security firm up in Anaheim. He’d do an excellent job.

“You might also consider a dog for Rita and the other girls.” Emma and Tiffany were the newest foster children at McKittrick House, and they and Rita had become best friends. She lightened her tone, needing to lessen the tension on her father’s kind face. “They might feel safer with a dog. And then they won’t always be ‘borrowing’ Snickerdoodle from me.”

Harlan lifted a bushy eyebrow. “Did the girls put you up to this?”

“Nope.” Kit forced a grin. “All my idea. Every girl needs a dog, Pop.”

He chuckled, but it was also forced. Still, it was a chuckle. “I’ll take the kids to the animal shelter this weekend. We’ll see if we can find a dog who’ll suit.”

Kit rested her head on his broad shoulder. He was the strongest, safest person she knew. He’d been her rock since she and Wren had snuck into this very barn as twelve-year-old runaways. Harlan and Betsy McKittrick had found them hiding and given them shelter. And so much love.

“Thanks, Pop. For everything. For me and for Rita and all the others. Love you.”

“Love you too, Kitty-Cat.” He kissed the top of her head. “Have fun on your date.”

She sighed, letting the Rita problem go for now. “I’ll try. But if there’s a murder, I’ll have to cancel.”

Harlan snorted quietly. “You sound almost hopeful.”

She kind of was. But wishing for a murder was wrong, and Sam deserved better. “I’m not hopeful. I’m just…”

“Scared,” he supplied gently.

“Yeah.”

“It’s okay to be scared, Kit. But other things scare you and you push through. You’ll be okay. I know it.”

Kit wished she were as confident.

And she still wished for a murder. Just a small one.