The third installment of the San Diego Case Files series is now available. Sam and Kit are back and looking for a killer while navigating their feelings in this exciting and intense story that had me hooked. Find out more below and read an excerpt from the first chapter.
On a long-anticipated second date with police psychologist Dr. Sam Reeves—right as things are getting steamy—Kit stumbles across the mutilated body of a local San Diego politician. The man was loved by many of his constituents but is hated and reviled by many more. That the suspect list is long surprises no one, but exactly who ends up on it stuns Kit and her team.
As the SDPD reveal the victim’s sinister dealings, Kit and Sam are forced to navigate the closely guarded world of the city’s richest and most powerful citizens to find answers. But time is rapidly running out, with their sources of information dropping like flies as the killer methodically eliminates loose ends—and anyone else who stands in the way.
Chapter One
Anza-Borrego Desert State Park
Borrego Springs, California
Saturday, January 7, 12:30 p.m.
Be careful," Sam said, pointing to a shrub next to the trail. "That's
a catclaw. Its thorns are sharp."
"Okay," Kit said, giving the bush a wide berth and tugging on
Snickerdoodle's leash to make sure that she kept her distance as well.
Their hike so far had been filled with similar safety callouts from Sam and not
much else. It was . . .
Awkward, Kit thought with a wince. This date was not bad but just so awkward,
and she had no idea what to do about it. The desert itself was beautiful in a
stark way, and Sam had chosen a less traveled trail. They'd had complete
solitude, not having seen another hiker for miles. The weather, while
unforgiving in the summer, was perfect during the winter. The skies were clear,
the cool breeze refreshing.
But as pretty as the landscape was, this day had been uncomfortable as hell.
Sam had picked her and Snickerdoodle up that morning and right away Kit had
known something was wrong. Usually sweet and calm, Sam was tense and overly
polite.
It was like they were strangers.
I've messed things up already, and I don't even know what I did wrong, she
thought sadly.
The drive to the park had been quiet, their minimal conversation stilted. Sam
had asked her a few questions in a cautious tone, and she'd replied equally
cautiously in sentences that never managed to be more than a few words.
They'd started their hike in a muted mood, with Sam pointing out landmarks and
plants like he was a tour guide. Brisk, efficient, but impersonal.
I have to fix this. Because not only did Sam sound impersonal, he seemed sad,
which she couldn't stand. Especially if she'd caused it. Abruptly she stopped
on the trail, Snickerdoodle obediently sitting at her side.
Sam had taken a few steps forward before realizing she was no longer beside him
on the trail. Carefully he turned so that he and Siggy faced her. Sam's
expression was blank, and Kit's heart dropped to her stomach. "Kit? You
okay?"
"No." Her voice shook and she drew a breath. "I'm sorry."
His shoulders sagged, disappointment unmistakable in his eyes. "I
know."
Panic flared, and she realized just how much she'd wanted this date to go well.
How much she'd wanted to see Sam happy. "I did something. Ruined
something. You're not happy. We're here, in the desert, and you're supposed to
be happy."
He frowned. "What are you talking about? I thought . . ."
She took a step closer. "What?"
His throat worked as he swallowed. "I thought that you were going to say
that this date was a mistake."
Her mouth dropped open. "What?"
He studied her face. "You're not thinking this was a mistake?"
"No. Just . . ." She kept her gaze focused on his. "I was scared
of today."
"I figured you would be. I thought for sure you'd find a reason to cancel
on me."
"I almost did."
One side of his mouth lifted in an almost-smile. "Not a shock. Who talked
you into coming?"
"Rita," she said dolefully. "And Pop. Called me out on my bullsh*t.
Is that why you've been so distant all day? You thought I was about to call
this a mistake?"
He nodded warily. "Were you?"
She did look away then, taking in the desert around them. It really was
beautiful. "I don't think so. I wanted to come here. With you. Wanted you
to show me the desert and why you love it. But it's been more than six weeks
since I asked you on this date. Enough time to second-guess myself. And maybe
to second-guess you. You could have anyone. Everyone tells me so. I still don't
know why you seem to want to be with me."
And that was the honest truth.
"Kit." He waited until she met his eyes again. "My feelings
haven't changed. I want to be with you, but I don't want to rush you into
anything you're not ready for. I can wait. You're worth waiting for."
She took another step forward, now so close that she could see the thick dark
lashes framing his green eyes behind his Clark Kent glasses. Could see the
freckles sprinkled across his nose now that he'd gotten some sun.
She could see his sincerity, the very thing that had originally drawn her to
him. And suddenly she wasn't afraid anymore, because this was Sam. Other than
her father, Sam was the kindest, gentlest man she knew. He would respect her
limitations. And he'd protect her heart.
She needed to protect his as well.
"I'm ready for this date." She reached out, gripped his jacket,
tugging him closer. "I want to know you better."
His chest expanded with the breath he drew. "Thank God," he muttered,
his hands coming up to cup her face, sending a shiver down her spine and over
her skin. "I've tried to give you space."
"Don't," she said simply, releasing her hold on his jacket and
sliding her hands around his neck. "I . . . I missed you," she
admitted.
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.
Sh*t.
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, sh*t."
She nodded once. "Sh*t indeed. I need to call this in."
"Wait." He edged closer, gaze still fixed on the victim. "Look
at his face."
"I did. There isn't enough left for a clear ID. The ME will likely have to
use dental records or DNA. He-"
"No, Kit. Look at him. I know him."
Startled, Kit crouched at the dead man's side. And then she recognized him,
too. Or at least the tribal-style tattoo that wound up his neck, ending behind
what had been his ear. "Well, sh*t."
Sam huffed a mirthless laugh. "Sh*t indeed. That's Councilman Brooks
Munro."
Of the San Diego city council.
Kit scowled down at the body. "This is not gonna be fun."
"Our second-favorite local politician," Sam said, his tone dripping
with disdain.
Kit looked up at him in surprise. She'd never heard him use that caustic tone
before and wondered what his experience had been with the councilman, who had a
reputation of being very charismatic and charming. At the same time, Kit had
heard rumors of impropriety, but nothing had ever been proven.
"Who's the first?" she asked, although she thought she knew.
He met her gaze. "Drummond."
Drummond had resigned his seat after being charged with murder, but Kit took
Sam's point. She still wondered why Sam hated this councilman. "Munro has
been missing for a few days," she said.
"I know," he said flatly. "I saw it on the news."
"He was reported by his wife, who's been out of town. Two officers did a
welfare check and found blood on his garage floor. Enough that they assumed
that he'd been seriously injured."
Sam grimaced. "I'd say he was seriously injured. Oh sh*t. Kit. His hands .
. ."
Kit sighed. The victim's fingers were missing, as were the toes on his exposed
foot. "Could have been animals."
"God, I hope so. But you don't think so."
"No, I don't." Because now that she was closer, she could also see
the stab wounds in the man's chest. She counted at least twenty at first
glance. Someone had really wanted this man to suffer. "But the ME will
tell us for sure. Let me call it in."
She pulled her phone from her pocket, but she had no signal.
"Dammit."
"Wait." Sam dropped to one knee and began rifling through his
backpack, piling its contents on the sand until he found what he'd been looking
for. "Here." He held out a phone. "Sat phone. You'll get a
signal with that."
"Do you always carry a sat phone?"
"Yep. It's a safety thing. Siggy and I hike in remote areas. Cell signals
are never a given."
She glanced down at him while she searched her phone for her boss's contact
information. "Are those . . . Sam, do you have night-vision goggles?"
He looked up, expression slightly embarrassed. "Christmas present from my
parents. I promised I'd carry them with me, just in case. I also packed a
picnic lunch, but I don't think I have any appetite anymore." He loaded
everything into his pack and stood, his expression now pained as he turned his
back on the body. "Please call Lieutenant Navarro, Kit. I want to get away
from here as soon as we possibly can."
Kit hated to tell him that it would likely be hours before they could leave. So
she merely dialed Navarro's number.
"Navarro. Who is this?" her boss answered brusquely.
"It's Kit. We've got a situation here."
San Diego PD, San Diego, California
Saturday, January 7, 5:30 p.m.
Connor Robinson stuck his head in Lieutenant Navarro's office. "So you two
just happened to find the one missing body in nearly one thousand square miles
of state park?"
Kit and Sam were in her boss's office, waiting on Navarro to debrief them.
They'd dropped the dogs off with Harlan and Betsy, and Kit had picked up her
own car, knowing that her day was far from over. Hopefully Navarro would let
Sam go home as soon as they'd reviewed his statement, but Kit had the awful
feeling that her boss would keep her far longer.
Don't assign me this case. Please.
"I'd bet a week's pay that it's not the only body hidden in the
park," Kit told her partner.
Sam made a pained sound, and Kit patted his hand. "You okay?"
"No," Sam grumbled. "Day's ruined. Date's ruined. And I'm never
going to get the sight of his face out of my mind."
Connor made a sympathetic face. "That sucks, man. Sorry your date was
ruined."
Sam made another grumbling sound that was cuter than it should have been.
"We'll have another date," Kit promised. "A no-dead-body date. I
promise."
"Okay." But he still frowned, and Kit felt bad for him.
Munro's body really had been a gruesome sight, and Sam had handled it better
than a lot of people would have. She knew that he'd seen bodies before, but
Munro's was . . . extreme.
Even for me.
"What are you doing here today anyway?" Kit asked Connor. "It's
Saturday. Did we catch another case?"
"No. I heard about the body and that it was discovered by an SDPD cop. I
knew you'd headed up that way so I wanted to find out if you were the ones
who'd found it."
It was Kit's turn to frown. "How did you hear about the body?"
Connor grinned. "Baz called me. He'd heard it through the station's
grapevine. I have to say I'm miffed that you didn't at least text me."
Kit rolled her eyes. "Baz has been surgically grafted to the grapevine, I
think." Her former partner had retired after having a heart attack nine
months before. She missed him terribly, but she and Connor had found their
stride together. "And I didn't text you because you were supposed to be
with CeCe today."
"Her mom twisted her knee and CeCe took her to the doctor." He
shrugged. "So I came in. Oh, sorry, sir." He abruptly moved to one
side of the doorway, making room for Navarro, who looked unhappy. "See you
later."
"No," Navarro said. "You stay."
Connor winced, and Kit had to swallow a groan. If Connor was staying, it meant
they'd be working Munro's murder investigation.
Which sucked, because this was going to be a bitch of a case. The suspect list
was already a mile long. His constituents seemed to love him, but few people in
law enforcement liked Brooks Munro. In fact, too many people hated his guts.
Navarro pointed to her and Sam. "You two. It's always you two."
Kit bristled. "Sir?"
Sam's mouth fell open. "I beg your pardon?"
"Trouble just seems to find you," Navarro muttered, sitting down at
his desk. "And you can't even deny it."
Sam sighed. "No, I guess I can't, but it's not like we found the body on
purpose. It spoiled our entire day. And my appetite for the next week."
Navarro's lips twitched. "It was pretty bad." He shifted his
attention to his computer. "Good initial report, Kit. All the particulars
are here. Brooks Munro, age fifty-one, city councilman. Was last seen alive on
Wednesday by his office administrator. He didn't show up to work on Thursday,
didn't return his wife's calls. Wife, who was out of town, requested a wellness
check. Cops found blood on his garage floor. Car was missing." He looked
up, brows lifted. "It wasn't just a car, Kit. It was a goddamned Ferrari.
Do we have footage from his home security cameras?"
Excerpted from Dead Man's List by Karen Rose
Copyright © 2025 by Karen Rose. Excerpted by permission of Berkley. All rights
reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without
permission in writing from the publisher.
