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“Anything?” Mitch asked.
Bethenny’s head snapped to him. “Nothing. He doesn’t have a lot of stuff. It should be any easy search.”
Mitch nodded, eyeing the Bible in her hands. She closed it and then put it back in the drawer. When she looked up, Mitch was gone.
She knew the team would lift the furniture and check for any loose boards, but she didn’t think they were going to find anything.
She walked out of the bedroom and stood at the staircase, looking over the void to the ground floor. Officers swarmed the house, checking every nook and cranny. She suddenly felt sick and needed some fresh air.
She found Mitch at the end of the porch, puffing on a cigarette.
“What’s your thoughts on this?” Bethenny asked, leaning against the stone column. She crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to keep warm.
Mitch looked back at the open door. “That sometimes I hate my job.”
Bethenny nodded. She understood his anguish—he had to follow protocol, but it also felt like a betrayal of one of his own.
“What was your first thought when you received the results?” she asked, watching him carefully.
He sighed heavily. “That there must be some mistake. But... we never really know people. A person can be married to a serial killer and not know what’s going on. This is the world we live in: nothing is certain, and everything should be questioned.”
Bethenny nodded, and opened her mouth to speak, but didn’t have a chance.
An officer blew through the door, heading in their direction. “Mitch! You need to have a look at this.”
BETHENNY
Bethenny spun on her heel, following Mitch inside, through the house, all the way into the study.
Four officers stood around the desk in the center of the room, staring at a piece of paper.
Bethenny leaned in to get a better look, but she recognized it straight away and the pit of her stomach churned.
No.
It was a floor plan, and she knew with a single glance that it was Jessica’s house.
“Where was this found?” Bethenny asked.
“Second drawer down, mixed in between some old bills. The bills are two years old and don’t relate to this property,” an officer said.
Bethenny rubbed her forehead, trying to think straight.
“Why would he need a floor plan of Jessica’s house? It’s a simple two-bedroom house with an old shed converted to a photography lab and studio. It’s not like it was a mansion he’d need a map to find his way around,” Bethenny said, thinking aloud.
Mitch sighed heavily, shaking his head. “But why would he have a floor plan at all? Do you have floor plans of others’ homes in your house?” he asked with raised eyebrows.
Bethenny shook her head, looking away. No, she didn’t, and she could think of only one good reason why he would have this. “Are there any more?” she asked.
“One more, but it doesn’t have a name or an address on it,” the officer said, putting another piece of paper on the desk and sliding it toward Bethenny. She glanced at it, but it wasn’t familiar to her either.
“Check if Jessica’s house was for sale recently. Maybe he was looking at buying it,” she said, feeling like it was the only viable reason he’d have a floor plan of the victim’s house.
“And see if the other map matches Kiera Johnson’s house.” Mitch sounded pained. “A word,” he said loud enough for only Bethenny to hear. He motioned toward the door.
She knew that whatever he said next, she wasn’t going to like. But she followed him out regardless.
They entered the guest bedroom and Mitch shut the door behind them.
