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Bethenny looked over her shoulder at Louise White’s house. The lights were on, but otherwise it was quiet.
Bethenny stood a few moments, mulling the facts over in her mind. She didn’t have it worked out yet, but she was now more certain Lachlan wasn’t involved.
She took some photos, packed up her forensics kit, and went back to her car.
Movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention, and as she looked at Louise White’s house, Bethenny swore the curtains were moving.
She sat in her car for a moment, making sure the doors were locked. Her eyes were on Louise White’s house, but she saw no further movement.
Had she imagined it?
Bethenny suppressed a shudder, then started her car and drove to the police station, parking out front. The advantage of a small town: there were plenty of parking lots. That was one thing she didn’t miss about Los Angeles.
When Bethenny entered the station, she was greeted with the smell of pizza and her stomach rumbled. She realized she hadn’t eaten all day. She’d barely had a coffee, which was a miracle for her—she’d normally be on her fifth by now.
A few officers sat at their desks with a plate of pizza in front of them. Mitch’s office was empty, however.
Her eyes snapped to the closest officer. “Where is Lachlan?” she asked.
He looked at her cautiously, like she might punch him with whatever he was going to say next. He wasn’t far off the mark.
“He’s been moved to the holding cells,” he said.
Bethenny’s mouth dropped open. “You charged him?”
“No, not me,” the officer said quickly, shaking his head.
Bethenny swore under her breath and headed downstairs to the holding cells. She took the stairs two at a time, almost colliding with Mitch as he came around the corner.
“You charged him?” Bethenny asked. Even to her own ears it sounded like more of an accusation than a question.
Mitch looked at her, unapologetic. “He’s linked to the murder weapon, had a floor plan of the victim’s house, and has no alibi—he wasn’t home that night, his security tapes proved it. So, I’m holding him like I would anyone else. He hasn’t been charged, no. You should understand this,” he said with narrowed eyes, and Bethenny knew she’d crossed the line. She’d reacted without thinking this through.
“You could’ve given him a piece of pizza before you locked up your detective,” she said, stepping further over the metaphorical line she’d already crossed. Suddenly she was angry, angry that no one else seemed to realize how stupid the floor plan was. And if Lachlan was ex-CIA, he definitely wouldn’t have had a floor plan. That would’ve been an easy kill for him.
“Jessica Mella fell from the balcony. Her blood is on the garden bed retaining wall in the backyard. I’ll send you the photos, but send a team over there now,” she said as his eyes widened.
“Bethenny, I didn’t want to do this,” he said, and she softened at the pain in his voice.
She nodded before walking past him toward the cells. Lachlan looked up as she approached, but he quickly looked away. She didn’t see anger in his eyes, though, but something that she thought more closely resembled embarrassment. Shame.
“Can you please unlock this and give us ten minutes?” she asked nicely, keeping her voice calm.
The officer nodded, unlocked the cell, and then passed her the keys. Bethenny waited until he walked out of the cells then she stepped inside, locking the door behind her.
“You think I’m going to run? Try and escape the cell?” Lachlan asked incredulously.
Bethenny didn’t react to the sharp tone of his voice. “No. How are you holding up?”
He looked away, shaking his head. He bit his lip. “I’ve never seen that floor plan. I didn’t put it there,” he said.
She took a seat beside him but he still didn’t look at her. She didn’t know how to comfort him—she barely knew him.
But if she was going to clear him, they had to work together, and he had to be honest.
“Look at me,” she said, gently but firmly. He closed his eyes for a moment before turning to face her. “We need to talk, and I need you to tell me everything. I’m going to clear your name, but that means investigating every angle of this case. If you’ve done something—anything—you shouldn’t have, that means I’m going to prove you guilty. So, save me the hassle and tell me everything that’s happened since Eden’s death.”
“You don’t believe I did it?” he asked, his eyebrows weaving together.
