Page 8

San Diego, California

Monday, January 9, 11:00 a.m.

Kit had seen photos of Ronald Tasker both before and after his arrest. But she hadn’t seen any photos of him since he’d begun serving his sentence.

He looked like an entirely different person.

She’d known he was bald, of course. His toupee had been removed for the booking photo, but in all the other photos—including those of him during his trial—he’d been wearing the hairpiece.

Not so today. He sat before them, small, pale, bald, and yet still defiant. He smirked at Kit, apparently noting the surprise that she thought she’d hidden. “I could still make you scream with pleasure, honey.”

Connor stiffened, but Sam showed no reaction.

He really was good at his job.

She didn’t respond to Tasker’s bait. “Do you know why we’re here, Mr.Tasker?”

“I have a decent idea. I saw the news. Munro bit it.” He looked delighted.

“You don’t seem upset by this,” Connor said evenly.

“I’m not. He’s a weasel. Was a weasel.” He snorted a laugh, then turned to Sam. “I’m surprised you had the balls to visit me here.”

“Why?” Sam asked mildly.

Tasker blinked once. “You’re the shrink, right? The one I paid to declare me unfit for trial?”

“I’m a psychologist, yes. I took no payment for any such thing.”

He was calmer than if he’d been denying having ordered pickles on his burger.

Tasker studied Sam. “You took no money? At all? Was it offered?”

“No money was offered and I never asked for any. Munro expected a little quid pro quo that I was unwilling to even consider.”

“Huh. So you said no. Munro never told me that. Just said that he paid you and you took the money and reported him.”

Sam only smiled. “In that case, I’m surprised I’m still breathing.”

Tasker cackled. “Thank you, son. That makes me feel better, believe it or not.”

“Oh, I can believe it,” Sam said. “Why didn’t you have me bumped off?”

“Thought about it. But Munro lied like he breathed. My associates said they’d off you for free, but I told them not to. Just in case Munro was lying.”

“Spoiler alert,” Sam said. “He was lying.”

Tasker cackled some more. “Well, that flies. I figured if you’d taken the money, you wouldn’t have reported him. And if you had reported him and had the money as proof, Munro would be in here with me. He never thought people were as smart as he was. What an idiot.”

“So my life is saved,” Sam said dryly. “Thank you.”

Tasker laughed until tears gathered in his eyes. “I like you. I’m glad I didn’t kill you, too.” He lifted a brow. “Not that I killed anyone else. Like my lying, whoring wife.”

“Oh no,” Sam said, still dry as dust. “If you knew Munro was lying to you, why didn’t you kill him?”

Tasker stilled. “How do you know I didn’t?”

“Because you’re in here.”

“Could have ordered it at any time,” Tasker boasted. “But I didn’t.”

“Why not?” Kit asked.

Tasker cocked his head again, studying Kit this time. “What’s it worth for me to tell you?”

“Your self-respect?” she asked sweetly.

He just huffed a chuckle. “You’re cute, honey. You look like the girl next door, but I bet you’re dynamite in the sack.”

Connor drew a breath, but Sam shook his head, making Connor settle back into his chair with a scowl.

“What do you want?” Sam asked.

Kit barely swallowed her bark of outrage. They’d agreed not to offer any concessions. But…Sam had asked her to trust him.

Connor wasn’t as controlled. He swiveled toward Sam. “No way.”

Sam only shrugged, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “Didn’t say he’d get it, but it’s good to know where we’re starting from. What do you want, Mr.Tasker?”

Tasker eyed them all cagily. “Time off for good behavior.”

“Can’t do that,” Sam said, still calm. “Next?”

Tasker scowled like a child denied a treat. “Conjugal visits.”

Sam shrugged. “Should have thought of that before you chopped your wife into pieces.”

Tasker started to laugh again. “Oh, you’re something else. I guess you’re one of those assholes with ethics.”

Sam smiled. “Guilty as charged. What do you really want, Mr.Tasker? Seriously?”

“I want all of those things.”

Steadily, Sam met the man’s gaze. “What do you want that we can actually provide? You’re still wealthy. Someone on the outside must be sending you money through the prison’s JPay system. You have funds to get what you want from the commissary, within reason, of course. What else can we offer other than time off or similar compensation? Because you have to know that those things won’t happen.”

Tasker grew thoughtful. “I don’t know.”

Kit opened her mouth to get the conversation back on topic, but Sam stayed her with another shake of his head.

“You collected comic books,” Sam said.

Kit stared at Sam in surprise.

Tasker smiled, a genuine smile of pleasure. “I did. I miss my comics. Can’t get the ones I like in the commissary, and the ones in the library are ripped up.”

“How about five new comic books, whichever are the top sellers at the comic book store?” Sam asked.

“Ten.”

“Seven,” Sam countered. “And no collectibles. Whatever is hot off the press.”

Tasker nodded once. “Okay. I’ll tell you what I know about Munro.” He glanced sharply at Kit. “ He treats me like a person.”

But Tasker wasn’t a person, Kit thought. At least not a good one. He’d murdered his wife and chopped her into pieces. But she was going to trust Sam. He’d been handling Tasker perfectly thus far.

“Understood,” she said. “Dr.Reeves?”

Sam folded his hands on the table, and it was then that Kit knew how very nervous he was. That, she’d learned, was one of his tells.

Her respect for Sam Reeves shot to the moon. He was terrified and no one would ever have known.

“Why didn’t you have Munro killed?” Sam asked.

Tasker was quiet for a long moment. Then he shrugged. “He has a kind of dead man’s switch, if you will,” Tasker said. “A list of all the bad things a person has done. If he’s killed, it will be made public.”

But nothing had been made public. Not yet.

Kit remembered Veronica’s voice as she’d made that call after they’d left her office. I haven’t found it yet, and I’ve searched.

Was that what she’d been looking for? Munro’s dead man’s switch? And why had she been searching for it? Was she the one who was supposed to publish it? Or did she want to destroy it because her name was included on the list? Kit didn’t know. Yet.

“All the bad things a ‘person’ has done?” Sam asked. “Or you?”

Tasker only shrugged.

“But you’re already in prison,” Sam said. “What could be on the list that is worse than what you were charged with?”

Tasker shook his head. “Nothing.”

Lie, Kit thought. That was a big, fat lie. But she wondered the same thing that Sam had asked. What could be worse than the time he was serving in prison?

“I don’t think that’s entirely true,” she said softly.

Tasker’s head whipped around to glare at her. “Are you calling me a liar, Detective?”

Kit wouldn’t deny it. “I’m just saying that if you didn’t fear the list, Munro would have been killed sooner. It’s only logical.”

“Who else is on the list, Mr.Tasker?” Sam asked, redirecting Tasker’s attention back to him.

Tasker grinned, an unholy sight. “That would require a lot more than comic books, Dr.Reeves. Movers and shakers, for sure. You’d be astounded.”

“I probably wouldn’t,” Sam said. “I’ve learned that everyone has secrets.”

“Maybe, maybe not. But I’m telling you that if you find that list, you’ll find out who killed him. And it wasn’t me.”

“Are you suggesting that Mr.Munro was blackmailing the people on this list?” Kit asked, already knowing the answer. Now Munro’s Ferrari made more sense.

“Ding, ding, ding,” Tasker sang. “The pretty lady wins the prize.”

“Who helped him uncover all the secrets?” Connor asked. “Or did he manage it by himself?”

Tasker gave Connor a duh stare. “Who do you think , Detective?”

“His admin,” Connor said grimly. “Veronica Fitzgerald.”

“Ding. Ding,” Tasker deadpanned.

“She’s the brains,” Kit guessed but made it sound like she knew.

Tasker touched his nose.

So Veronica was unlikely to be on the list herself, Kit thought. She might be the person Munro had chosen to make the list public after his death.

Kit nodded slowly, mentally reviewing Tasker’s testimony in court. How his wife had learned that he’d been keeping two sets of books and had threatened to turn him in. How, with him in prison, she’d be able to control his money. And then, when he’d been so full of rage, a folder of photos had miraculously appeared in his mailbox—a folder that contained photos of his wife having sex with another man. He’d gotten mad, he’d testified. Like any man would.

He’d also chopped her into little pieces. Kit supposed he’d been really mad.

“Which is the real reason you’re telling us this,” she murmured. “Because Veronica Fitzgerald’s the brains of their operation. Were you late with your payment to Munro? Is that why he told your wife about your illegal business deals? Is that why he sent you the photos of your wife and her lover? He wanted to show you what you stood to lose if you didn’t pay him?”

Tasker gave her an up-and-down leer. “I didn’t give you enough credit. You have a brain to go with that body of yours.”

Once again, Kit ignored the sexual barb. “Munro’s dead, but you also want Miss Fitzgerald to pay. They destroyed your marriage, your business, and took your freedom.” Tasker had done all that himself, Kit knew, but Sam wasn’t the only one who could play along. “So you’re willing to spill the tea for us. You’re not going to squeal on the others on that list, because you don’t know who they are. But now we know what to look for, so your job is pretty much done. And when we do find the list, it can’t keep you in prison any longer than you’re already facing, but at least you will have had your revenge.”

Tasker only smiled and said nothing. It appeared he was done sharing.

Sam had been quiet through this exchange. When he spoke, it was gently. “It’s personal for you, then. Whatever’s on that list is something you don’t want a person who you respect to find out. You might not get any more prison time, but someone you care about will no longer love you.”

Tasker’s eyes widened with shock. “How—” He shook his head hard and pushed away from the table, jangling the chain that attached his handcuffs to his ankle shackles. “I’m done. I expect those comic books, Dr.Reeves.”

“I keep my word, Mr.Tasker.”

He nodded once. “I’m counting on it. You’ve got ethics and I don’t know many people who do. You can relax. I won’t be coming after you. Even if I never get the comics.”

Sam shook his head. “I said that I keep my word. I will send them, but they’ll have to go through one of the approved package vendors. It might take a few weeks.”

Tasker looked over his shoulder to the guard standing by the door. “Take me back to my cell.”

Kit, Connor, and Sam remained seated as the guard led Tasker through the door of the interview room. Tasker looked back at the last moment.

“She’s my daughter. I did some things I’m not proud of and I don’t want her to know. None of that was illegal. But I still don’t want her to know. But it doesn’t really matter because she disowned me after I ki—” He drew a breath. “After I was convicted of killing her mother. So if you find the list, go ahead and tell her. She hates me anyway.”

Shoulders slumped, he shuffled away, leaving the three of them to sit in stunned silence.

Finally, Connor cleared his throat. “I think I just attended a master class. Sam, you are the man. How did you know about the comic books?”

“I researched him,” Sam said simply.

“So did we,” Connor said.

“We were looking at his priors, work history, and business associations. Sam was looking at him . Like he was a person.” Kit needed to remember that in the future. She’d let the magnitude of the man’s crime blind her to the vulnerability most humans had on some level. But Sam had seen him. “I think we’re ready to go.”

Sam’s laugh was shaky. “I know I am. I need a drink.”

Connor stared at him. “You’re freaked out now ? It’s over, dude.”

“He was freaked out before we walked through the front entrance,” Kit said quietly. “But he’s right, Sam. That was a master class.” Hoping to comfort him, she ran her hand down Sam’s arm, feeling him tremble. “Come on. We’ll call Navarro from the car and see if Tasker’s info can be added to the search warrant. And then we’ll get lunch. And maybe a margarita for you.”

Sam stood, then straightened his back. “That sounds like the best idea I’ve heard in forever.”

Scripps Ranch, San Diego, California

Monday, January 9, 1:30 p.m.

“It was good to see the old ladies again,” Connor said as he and Kit left the Shady Oaks Retirement Village.

Kit waved fondly at the two elderly women who stood on either side of a slightly tipsy Sam Reeves. Kit hadn’t wanted to leave him alone at home after his margarita lunch and knew Miss Georgia and Miss Eloise would take good care of him.

Sam had earned those two drinks and then some. Kit was only mildly surprised that it had taken only two rather weak margaritas to make the psychologist wobbly. Sam didn’t drink much.

It was one of the things she liked about him.

“Don’t let them hear you call them old,” Kit warned. Because Georgia and Eloise were still forces of nature despite being octogenarians.

Connor shuddered. “Not on your life.”

Kit slid into the passenger seat. Neither she nor Connor was tipsy, having refrained from any alcohol at lunch. They were still on duty, after all. But Kit would have stayed sober anyway. Sam was far more shaken than he’d let Connor see, and she’d needed to take care of him.

It was a new feeling, this protectiveness. She felt it for her parents, for her sisters and brothers, but she’d never felt this way for anyone else.

It scared her to death.

Because what if Tasker changed his mind? What if he did send hired thugs to hurt Sam? Or worse?

He could do the same to you.

Which was true, she allowed. But I can take care of myself.

So can Sam.

He’d proven that many times.

But she still worried. The only thing to take her mind off the worry was work. “So we have a dead-man’s-switch list out there somewhere. I wonder who Munro was blackmailing.”

“Movers and shakers, according to Tasker,” Connor said, pulling out of the Shady Oaks parking lot. “That could include a lot of people who’d never be on our radar.”

“Because they all keep it secret. Presumably no one knows who else is on the list,” Kit mused.

“Telling would trip them up, too. It’s a pretty ingenious way of keeping his victims in check.”

“Somebody objected. Or multiple somebodies, if Alicia is right about multiple hands stabbing him.”

Connor sighed. “It might not have been anyone on that list. It still could have been angry constituents or a jealous husband. Or even a local developer who didn’t get a contract.”

“But blackmail makes a lot of sense. Especially since Veronica is looking for something she hasn’t been able to find.”

Connor’s mouth bent down thoughtfully. “I wonder if she was the mechanism for the list getting out. Someone or something had to be triggered by news of Munro’s death. That’s the whole point of a dead man’s switch.”

“I wondered the same thing while we were talking to Tasker. I hope Marshall and Ashton have made some progress searching the files we took from Munro’s home office. Maybe the list is in those papers. If it were me, I’d have kept the list close at hand.”

“There wasn’t anything on his home computer,” Connor said. “Nothing that screamed ‘I’m a list of scumbags who’re paying for Munro’s Ferrari.’?”

Kit chuckled at the image. “That would be too easy.”

“I personally wouldn’t have kept it close at hand. I would have put it in a safe-deposit box and would have given both a key and written permission to access the box to the person charged with making sure the list was shared. My lawyer would have had the key.”

“Munro didn’t have a safe-deposit box at his bank.”

“Not the bank he openly used.” Connor merged onto the freeway. “Veronica’s trips to the Caymans could mean an offshore account there.”

“Wouldn’t be the first person to hide ill-gotten gains.”

“Nope. Who is Munro’s attorney?”

Kit was annoyed at herself for not having already talked to Munro’s lawyer. “It might be the same attorney whose name Veronica gave us when she threw us out of her office.” She pulled the folded piece of paper from her pocket. “Lucas King.”

“I’ve heard of him,” Connor said. “He does estate planning for the newly rich and the ‘middle-class millionaires.’?”

“Middle-class millionaires? That’s a thing?”

“Yep. People who slowly built their wealth or got it through selling real estate they bought fifty years ago. They’re a few steps below the mega-wealthy. Some of my parents’ friends have mentioned that lawyer. He doesn’t typically handle defense cases, but Veronica might not have thought she’d need one. She seems arrogant enough.”

Using her phone, Kit paged through the notes that Marshall and Ashton had uploaded to the department server and gaped when she got to the page that listed Munro’s attorney of record. “Oh my God. You’re not going to believe who’s Munro’s attorney. It’s Laura Letterman.”

Connor did a double take, glancing at her before returning his gaze to the road. “Sam’s ex?”

“One and the same.” Kit leaned back into the headrest. “Sam’s gonna freak out.”

“Not like he did today, though, right? She’s not a danger to him.”

“Laura still cares about him in her own way. She worked hard to represent him when we thought he was a suspect nine months ago. So a totally different kind of freak-out than talking to Tasker today.”

“Still can’t get over how cool he was,” Connor muttered. “I thought the man wore his feelings on his face. Now I have to wonder.”

“He usually does,” Kit said, still staring at Laura Letterman’s name. “But his job requires him to compartmentalize when he has to. That’s what we saw today. I wonder if we should pay Miss Letterman a visit.”

“She won’t tell us anything about Munro. Privilege and all that shit.”

Kit lifted a brow. “Well, she doesn’t represent Veronica, does she?”

Connor grinned. “Damn good point. What’s her address? She’ll be in her office unless she’s in court. Either way, we should find her.”

Kit was googling Laura’s address when her phone buzzed with an incoming call. “It’s Navarro,” she told Connor, then hit accept. “What’s up, boss?”

“Veronica Fitzgerald left city hall ten minutes ago and appears to be on her way to her apartment.” He gave them the address, an expensive building downtown. “Bring her in.”

“On it.” Kit punched the address into their GPS and Connor upped his speed. “I’m assuming we don’t have enough for an arrest warrant?”

“Not yet,” Navarro said ruefully. “The word of a convicted murderer who cut his wife into pieces isn’t enough, unfortunately. But I did get you a search warrant, freshly signed by the judge. It’s only for her bags, including her purse. She should have some luggage if she’s running away like we’re assuming. If she has anything in her bags that’s remotely suspicious, arrest her and bring her in. I’ll send a uniform over with a signed copy of the warrant, just in case she resists the search.”

“I hope she resists,” Kit said. “I’d like to slap some cuffs on her. She’s a snake.” Trying to shake Sam down like that.

“Hiss,” Connor muttered in agreement.

“Understood. Keep it classy, though. I don’t want her slithering away.”

“Of course,” Kit said. “We’ll call you when we have her. We’re about seven minutes out. If she tries to leave before we get there, have the uniforms on watch keep her there.”

Kit ended the call and fixed the flashing blue light to the top of the car. “Step on it.”

Connor complied with glee because driving fast and furious was one of his favorite things. Kit fought the urge to close her eyes as he dodged traffic, breathing her relief when they finally slowed to a stop in front of Veronica’s building.

“Four and a half minutes,” Connor crowed. “I love this job.”

“I need one of Sam’s margaritas,” Kit muttered, releasing the grab handle and shaking out her stiff fingers. “Let’s bring her in.”

They found the uniforms who’d followed her waiting for them. “She went up just a few minutes ago,” one of them said. “Her apartment is on the tenth floor and faces the water.”

Away from them, then. That was good. She wouldn’t be able to see them gathered and talking.

“How many exits?” Connor asked.

“Two,” the second uniform replied. “This one and the emergency exit in back. Two more cops are guarding that door.”

Connor gave the men a nod. “Thank you.”

Kit echoed her thanks as she and Connor walked to the elevator. “This could be messy if she won’t comply,” she said when the doors closed and the elevator started its ascent.

“You wearing a vest?” Connor asked.

“Yep. You?”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “CeCe made me promise to always wear one.”

“CeCe cares about you. Veronica doesn’t own a registered gun, but that doesn’t mean she won’t have one. If Tasker is right, she’s every bit as dangerous as Munro was.”

When the elevator doors opened, they immediately heard Veronica’s voice through her door. It was muted, but shrill and panicked enough that it carried.

“I don’t care. You meet me at the field. Twenty minutes,” she said. “I’ve spent hours making all the arrangements. All you have to do is bring your passport and fly the damn plane.”

Kit texted Navarro. She’s talking about taking a small plane out of the country. Told the pilot to meet her at the field in 20 min. She hasn’t been in her apt long. Can’t have packed much.

Traveling lite makes sense when u r fleeing came the reply. Bring her in in cuffs if you have to. Contact me when it’s done. Has the warrant arrived?

As if on cue, the other elevator’s door slid open and a uniformed officer stepped out, a short stack of papers in his hand. Kit pressed her finger to her lips, then pointed at the door. Understanding, the officer silently gave her three copies of the search warrant.

“Is your body cam on?” she asked in a barely audible whisper, and he nodded. Please stay here , she mouthed.

Just got the warrant , Kit texted to Navarro. Thx boss.

Kit looked at Connor. Now we wait , she mouthed.

They didn’t have to wait long. The door to Veronica’s apartment opened and she stumbled back with a gasp, her eyes widening at the sight of Kit and Connor. She had a large shoulder bag and a backpack.

“What is the meaning of this?” Veronica demanded.

Kit held up a copy of the warrant. “We have a warrant to search your bags.”

Veronica’s mouth dropped open in shock. She took another step back, almost into her apartment. “No! These are my private bags. You have no right.”

Kit snatched the shoulder bag and yanked, causing the woman to stumble forward. Connor took the backpack.

Veronica’s chin lifted. “I know my rights. I demand to read the warrant.”

Kit gave her a copy and, pulling on disposable gloves, proceeded to search her bag. “Who is the pilot?” she asked conversationally.

Veronica’s lips tightened and she said nothing.

Kit wasn’t surprised. The woman did know her rights, after all. Kit found two cell phones and held the more generic-looking one up to Veronica’s face before she could shut her eyes.

“You can’t do that!” Veronica shouted. “I’m calling my attorney.”

“Go ahead,” Connor said. “You’ll get one phone call. Probably not on your cell phone, though. Depends on what we find.”

“She called an Uber,” Kit said, swiping through the open apps on the phone, which was probably a burner. The other phone’s case was decorated with glittering green shamrocks—probably her personal cell. Kit would look through it in a few minutes. “And she made reservations at a hotel in Mexico City for tonight.” Proceeding with her search, Kit pulled out an unregistered handgun. “Oh my . This is not good, Veronica.”

Connor set the large backpack on the floor in full view of the officer’s body cam. Crouching beside it, he unzipped the first compartment. “Underwear and a change of clothes,” he said for the camera. “One bottle of thyroid medication.” He unzipped the larger compartment. “Oh my ,” he said, echoing Kit. “What have we here?”

He pulled a stack of money from the backpack. “There’s quite a bit here. These are all fifties. If the rest of them are as well, I’m estimating she’s got at least a hundred grand in this backpack. Maybe more.”

“Veronica,” Kit chided. “Where did that money come from?”

Veronica glared at her and said nothing.

Kit pulled a passport from the handbag. “And the pièce de résistance. A passport in the name of Viola Feinstein but with your photo. At least you wouldn’t have to throw away your monogrammed items.” She pulled her handcuffs from her jacket pocket and slapped them on Veronica’s wrists with relish. That’s for trying to shake down Sam, you bitch. “Veronica Fitzgerald, you’re under arrest for extortion. The passport fraud is a federal offense, so we’ll leave that up to them.”

Veronica tried to yank out of Kit’s hold, but Kit tightened her grip. “I’m innocent.”

“Then you can explain where all this cash came from,” Connor said. “Let’s go.”

Still gripping Veronica’s arm, Kit dragged her into the elevator. “Officer, if you could stay with us until we get her in our car, I’d appreciate it.” She wanted every second of this arrest recorded.

San Diego PD, San Diego, California

Monday, January 9, 4:00 p.m.

“That was good work,” Navarro said as he settled into a chair in the observation room, Kit and Connor on either side of him. “If we hadn’t had eyes on Fitzgerald, we’d have lost her and she’d be God knows where by now.”

Veronica Fitzgerald sat at the interview table on the other side of the glass. They were waiting for her attorney to arrive before they began the interview, because Veronica had immediately lawyered up.

“On her way to Mexico City,” Kit said. “I don’t know where she’d have gone after that.”

“Marshall and Ashton picked up the pilot,” Connor went on. “They’re on their way in with him. We were able to triangulate Veronica’s last call with the towers. Steven Neal was waiting for Veronica at a small airfield near the prison we were at this morning, ironically enough. He’d filed a flight plan and was still waiting for clearance.”

“She probably intended to bribe someone in customs with some of that money,” Navarro said. “She had plenty of it. The money, the gun, and the fake passport were the final nails in her coffin.” He looked around the small room. “I thought Sam would be here.”

Kit winced a little. “He took the afternoon off.”

“He was freaked out about talking to Ronald Tasker,” Connor said. “Had a few drinks afterward. But you never would have known he was nervous at all. The man was as cool as a cucumber.”

“Comic books,” Navarro said, shaking his head. “I never would have thought of that.”

Kit smiled, proud of Sam. “Neither would I. I’m glad Sam did. So who’s going to be the bad cop in there with her?”

“You should,” Connor said. “You already established that role this morning.”

“I brought Munro’s autopsy photos this time,” Kit said. “Sam thought I could have been harder on her this morning, so this time I thought I’d show her what was done to her lover.”

“Do we know for sure that they were lovers?” Navarro asked.

Kit shook her head. “Not confirmed yet, but the camera feed from her apartment building shows Munro entering Tuesday evening wearing one suit, then leaving at eight thirty the next morning in a different suit.”

“He spent the night,” Navarro said.

“Which Fitzgerald can claim was platonic or that he spent the night with someone else in the building. CSU is in her apartment now. They’ll take DNA samples from her sheets. If he was in her bed, hopefully we’ll find evidence. This does answer one of my earlier questions, though—about why the killer drove the trailer to Munro’s house so early in the morning. I think he was hoping to catch Munro coming out of his house, but he was sleeping with Fitzgerald. So he had to wait until Munro came home.”

But that was still a very long time for the killer to sit idly, waiting. Her gut told her that there was something she was missing.

“That sounds right.” Then Navarro grimaced. “What was it about Munro that had the women lining up to sleep with him? Veronica, the widow, and the reporter.”

“Tamsin Kavanaugh,” Kit growled. “I can’t wait to talk to her.”

Navarro chuckled. “Maybe you should let Connor take that interview.”

“She makes me growl too, boss. Woman’s slimy.” Then Connor sat up straight, staring at the glass. “What the fuck?”

Kit’s gaze went to the glass and she stared as well. “What the fuck?” she whispered. “That is not the attorney she told us to call this morning.”

Laura Letterman had entered the interview room.

“You said she was Munro’s attorney,” Navarro said. “Smart move on Veronica’s part. Now you can’t ask Letterman anything about either of them.”

“Bitch,” Kit muttered.

“The accused or the lawyer?” Navarro asked.

Kit scowled. “Both?” Veronica had tried to shake Sam down, but Laura had cheated on him.

“Maybe let Connor take this interview,” Navarro said carefully. “Just because you’ve gone up against Letterman before and she knows your style. Connor will be an unknown entity.”

Kit sighed. “I hate that you’re right.”

The door opened and closed before another voice muttered, “What the fuck?”

Joel Haley was staring through the glass much as Kit and Connor had. “ She’s Fitzgerald’s attorney?”

Kit sighed. “We were surprised, too. Have a seat, Joel.”

“I’m glad that Sam was too intoxicated to be here,” Joel said as he took the seat next to Kit.

Me too. “Better get started, Connor. We still have a million interviews to do.”

“What are you hoping to get out of Fitzgerald today?” Joel asked.

“Probably nothing,” Connor admitted. “She seems too smart to mouth off. But I’m hoping the autopsy photos will loosen her tongue. Plus, I’ll say that we know they were sleeping together, that the DNA found in her apartment came back positive. It hasn’t yet, I’m just hoping to get a reaction. We think she’s been searching for Munro’s dead man’s switch.”

Navarro had called Joel with the update after they’d left the prison that morning. It had helped secure the warrant for Veronica’s bags.

“That makes a lot of sense,” Joel said. “Especially if Munro’s wife wasn’t financing his lifestyle. Have we come any closer to tracking the trailer that hauled Munro’s Ferrari away?”

Connor shook his head. “Unfortunately, no. The driver must have removed the wrap from the trailer shortly after leaving Munro’s neighborhood. He may have even changed the truck he was using to haul it. There are a number of trailers in the local street cams, but none are being pulled by the Ford we saw in Ace Diamond’s camera feed. We’ve effectively lost the trail.”

“Marshall and Ashton went out to interview the guard at the neighborhood entrance,” Navarro went on. “It was our second attempt. The guard wasn’t home, so we can’t get his description of the trailer’s driver. They’ll try again later.”

Kit frowned. “Shelley was a loose end, and now she and her mom are dead. How do we know this guy hasn’t killed Munro’s gate guard?”

“We don’t,” Navarro said grimly. “We’ve put out a BOLO on him as a person of interest and Marshall and Ashton are following up with his friends and family, trying to find him.”

“I don’t think we’re going to get the killer’s description out of him,” Connor said.

Kit didn’t think so, either. Dammit.

They were all quiet for a long moment, and then Joel broke the silence.

“What are the next steps after talking to Fitzgerald?” Joel asked. “Assuming you don’t get anything out of her, I mean.”

“We’re going to cycle back to Mrs.Munro,” Kit said. “We have a number of unanswered questions about Munro’s finances. We know he was spending a lot of money, but other than the Ferrari, we don’t know the other big-ticket items he was spending it on. We have tons of data to wade through, although Marshall and Ashton are handling a lot of that. We have Alicia Batra’s theory that it was more than one person, so that could either be people he was blackmailing or people he’d screwed over in business or politics.”

“So you really don’t know,” Joel said.

Kit shook her head. “We really don’t. We need to follow up on the credible threats he received and get alibis for those suspects so we can at least cross them off the list.”

“We know that Wilhelmina knew Munro was dirty, but couldn’t find the proof,” Connor said.

“Or that’s what she claimed,” Kit murmured. “We know that Munro’s killer also killed Shelley Porter and her mother Carol, but no one saw anyone go into the house that night. We need to recanvass the neighborhood and ask again. Someone had to have seen something.”

Connor sighed. “The only person I really believe right now is the tattooed thug whose real name is not Ace Diamond. He said that Shelley got him hooked.” He cocked his head. “But her killer knew that four grand would be a surefire bait to bribe her that night. He might have assumed that she’d simply want the money or he could have known she was an addict who’d take that money in a heartbeat. Who else knew that Shelley Porter was an addict?”

“There you go,” Joel said. “That’s a fresh thread to pull.”

“We will pull it,” Kit said, then turned to the glass when Laura Letterman knocked. “I think you’re up, Connor.”

“Lucky me.”

“See if you can get Veronica to tell you who she was talking to in her office,” she said. “I don’t think it was the pilot. The numbers in her call log were different.”

“Easy peasy,” Connor said sarcastically. He took the folder with the autopsy photos and headed into the interview room.