Cold-Blooded Liar (The San Diego Case Files, Band 1) - Softcover

Rose, Karen

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0593548841 ISBN 13: 9780593548844

Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group, 2023

Inhaltsangabe

Brace yourself for a scorching new series from New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Karen Rose, where San Diego means sun, surf, sand…and serial killers.
 
Sam Reeves is a kindhearted psychologist who treats court-ordered clients. After one of his patients—a pathological liar—starts revealing plausible new details from a long-unsolved serial murder case, he’s compelled to report anonymously to the SDPD tip line, though his attempts to respect patient confidentiality land him facedown and cuffed by the aggressive (and cute) Detective McKittrick.
 
San Diego homicide detective Kit McKittrick loves the water. She lives on a boat, and when she’s not solving crimes with the SDPD, she’s assisting her foster sister with her charter fishing business or playing with her poodle. But there’s nothing that intrigues Kit more than a cold case, so when an anonymous caller leads her on the path of a wanted killer, she’s determined to end the decade-long manhunt.
 
Sam is soon released but goes home with both a newfound distaste for the SDPD and a resolve—not unlike Kit’s—to uncover the truth. Kit and Sam repeatedly butt heads in their separate investigations but are forced to work together to find one of the deadliest serial killers the city has faced in years.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Karen Rose is the award-winning, #1 international bestselling author of more than twenty-five novels, including the bestselling Baltimore and Cincinnati series. She has been translated into twenty-three languages, and her books have placed on the New York Times, the Sunday Times (UK), and Germany's der Spiegel bestseller lists.

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Chapter One

San Diego Police Department, San Diego, California

Monday, April 4, 11:30 a.m.

Present day

Hey, McKittrick."

Kit swiveled in her desk chair, raising an eyebrow at Basil "Baz" Constantine, her partner of four years. "You rang?"

Baz pointed to the double doors leading into the San Diego Police Department's homicide division. "You got company."

Kit turned in time to see the doors close behind familiar wide shoulders. Harlan McKittrick ambled toward her, his gait as smooth and his smile as wide as it had been for the nineteen years that she'd been privileged to know him.

"Pop!" She pushed away from her desk, walking into his outstretched arms. She still didn't like to be touched, but she made exceptions for Mom and Pop McK. The contact seemed to make them happy.

Kit would do nearly anything to make those two happy.

"Kitty-Cat," he said, tightening his arms until her ribs protested. He let her go when she grunted, his expression sheepish. "Sorry. Haven't seen you in too long."

"It's been two weeks," she said dryly, but leaned up to peck his cheek, her heart warming at his pleased look. "What brings you into the city?"

Because Harlan McKittrick hated the city. He was made for wide open spaces, not high-rises and traffic.

"We're getting a new kid. Mom is meeting with the social worker and I thought I'd stop in and say hi."

"Well, hi. Come and sit with me. I can take a short break."

He looked around as he followed her back to her desk, curious as always. He was no stranger to the homicide division, having haunted its halls for years after they'd lost Wren. He'd kept the promise he'd made after Wren's funeral, helping her search for the man who'd killed her sister. They'd been unsuccessful in finding the monster, but even after sixteen years they still searched.

She wondered if he'd come with a new lead. If so, it would be the first one in five years.

"Nope," he said as he eased his six-foot-two frame into the chair next to her desk. "Nothing new."

He'd always been able to read her mind. It had been maddening in her teenage years. He'd always known when she was ready to bolt or if she was telling anything less than the total truth. Now it was a comfort that someone knew her so well.

"Me either. So tell me about the new kid."

"Thirteen-year-old girl." His shoulders drooped. "She was scared of me."

She squeezed his hand. "She'll see that you're different. They always do."

One side of his mouth lifted. "You did."

"I did, indeed."

He sat quietly for a moment, then dug something from his pants pocket. Kit tensed, knowing what it would be even before the little carving appeared.

It was that time of year. Again.

Sixteen anniversaries of Wren's murder and still no closure. But true to his word, Pop McK had never forgotten the little girl who'd been such a bright light.

He held out his offering on his flat palm, just as he always did, year after year. It was always a little bird. Kit had a special shelf in her bedroom for the birds, placed where she could see them when she opened her eyes each morning.

They were the only things in her home that she routinely dusted.

Except today it wasn't a bird-or not just a bird. It was a cat with a bird perched on its head. The bird looked quizzical. The cat looked . . . content. Three inches long and an inch wide, it was intricate and detailed and beautiful.

"Pop," she breathed. Gingerly, she took it from his hand. At one time, it had been because she was touch averse. Now it was because it looked like the little figurine would snap if she gripped it too firmly. "Thank you."

"It won't break," he told her. "You can carry it in your pocket if you want to. For luck."

"I will." But she didn't, not yet. She held the small carving up to the light, marveling at his skill as she always did. "It's amazing."

His smile was shy, an adorable look on a man as big as he was. He dug in his pocket once again, bringing out another carving. This one was just a bird. It was still beautifully done, but the bird sat alone on a twig.

"For your shelf."

She took it from his palm. "Thank you, Pop."

"You're welcome, Kitty-Cat," he murmured, running a hand over her hair. "I have something for you, Baz."

Baz got up from his desk to sit on the corner of Kit's. He hadn't even been pretending not to listen. "Yes, please."

Harlan produced a small carved horse, making both Kit and Baz frown. It wasn't a bird. They both always got birds.

"It's for Luna," Harlan explained. "She saw me carving the last time you brought her out to the farm and asked if I'd make her one for her birthday."

Baz's face softened at the mention of his five-year-old granddaughter. "She's going to love it, Harlan. Thank you."

"Well." Harlan cleared his throat gruffly. "You've been there for us more times than I can count. So thank you." He held out a fourth carving. A bird. "For you."

Harlan had started giving Baz and Kit carvings at the same time. Kit, so that she could remember Wren. Baz, so that he wouldn't forget about the victim whose murder he'd never solved.

Baz didn't try to aw-shucks his way out of the gratitude. He'd been the detective who'd worked Wren's case and was not as callous as fifteen-year-old Kit had assumed.

Wren's murder had been Baz's very first homicide case. It had shaken him, and his attempts to distance himself from their grief so that he could do his job had come off as cold and unfeeling. He'd been anything but, having helped them track down every lead ever since.

That they hadn't found Wren's killer was not from lack of trying.

Baz slipped the carvings into his own pocket. "I'll make a video when we give Luna's to her. Be prepared for squeals that could break glass."

A door opened behind them and their lieutenant's voice cut through the bullpen noise. "Constantine, McKittrick. With me. Now."

A chorus of ooooh came from their fellow detectives, like they were all in middle school. Which wasn't far off for many of them-behaviorally speaking-despite being mostly middle-aged men. It was how they coped.

"Gotta go," Kit said. "Sorry, Pop."

"I need to pick up your mom and our new kid. Wish me luck."

"You won't need it," she said. "I give the kid a week before she's calling you Pop."

"Unless she's like you," he teased. "Then it'll be four years."

"I was a little stubborn," she admitted.

Baz snorted. "A little?"

"Shut up," she told him without heat. "Pop, I'll be there on Sunday for dinner."

Harlan gave her another rib-crushing hug. "See that you are. Your mother worries."

Betsy McKittrick did worry about her. She and Harlan had been the only ones who ever had.

"I'll be there." She started walking backward toward her lieutenant's office, not turning until Harlan had passed through the double doors.

Straightening her spine, she slid both carvings into her pocket before opening the lieutenant's door. "What's up, boss?"

Reynaldo Navarro gestured to the chairs across from his desk, handing them each a sheet of paper. "Transcript of an incoming call. Audio's been sent to your email for your listening pleasure."

Kit scanned the transcript before looking up with a frown. "He mentioned me?"

"In particular," Navarro said. "Listen." He hit a button on his computer and the voice of a very nervous-sounding man filled the air.

"Hi. This message is for homicide detective Kit McKittrick. I have reason to believe you'll find the victim of a murder in Longview Park at the following coordinates." He rattled off a string of numbers and the call ended.

Kit tried to place the voice but came up empty. "I don't think I've ever met him...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Penguin Publishing Group
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2023
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0593548841
• ISBN 13: 9780593548844
• Einband: Taschenbuch
• Anzahl der Seiten: 449
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: preigu; mail@preigu.de; ; Lengericher Landstr. 19; Osnabrück; 49078; Deutschland