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“Hi, it’s Officer Lewis. I’m looking at the phone records for the cleaner—I’ve just started, so I haven’t made much progress on that front, but Bethenny rang about an hour ago and asked me to run a trace for Jim O’Connor’s phone records. There was a call from Louise’s landline to a Jim O’Connor the night Jessica was killed. I’ve tried to call Bethenny, but it’s going to voicemail.”
Mitch refrained from swearing. Where was Bethenny? Why wasn’t she answering her phone? Now would be a really good time to get her input on this case.
“How long was the call?” Mitch asked quickly.
“A little over seven minutes,” he said.
“Thank you. Keep going through the records. I’ll contact Bethenny,” Mitch said, hanging up and darting toward the whiteboard. Bethenny had started arranging each of the people of interest today. She’d been moving them around like they were playing musical chairs until she’d left the office.
Mitch moved a few photographs now and added a blank for Jonathan White. He connected them to the body in the woods, and to Jim O’Connor, who connected to Eden and Lachlan.
He continued to move them based on the hypothesis in his mind.
When he stepped back and looked at the board, he turned to the nearest officer and said, “Send a patrol car to Bethenny’s house. Find out where she is!”
BETHENNY
Bethenny rummaged through her handbag. Where was her phone?
She desperately needed to call Mitch, and for the life of her, she couldn’t find her cell phone. She shook her head, annoyed at herself. She didn’t lose things—and certainly not a phone. She wondered if she’d left it at Lachlan’s or dropped it between his house and her car.
She paused, realizing their likely mistake. She had the same phone as Lachlan and she wondered if he’d picked up her phone instead. She hadn’t seen it with her paperwork, and so she’d left without realizing it.
Bethenny tipped her head back, groaning. She mumbled under her breath, venting her frustration to a silent house.
She puffed out a frustrated breath, deciding to ask the neighbor to borrow their phone. She was halfway to the front door when the doorbell rang. Her eyebrows lifted; she wasn’t expecting any visitors.
She walked toward the door and peered through the peephole, pausing when she saw who it was.
The doorbell rang again and Bethenny almost jumped.
She unlocked the door and opened it. “Hello, Mrs. White,” Bethenny said.
“Hello, detective,” Louise White said with a smile.
Bethenny’s gaze dropped to the white plate she was holding in her hands, stacked with a tower of muffins.
“I wanted to come over and thank you for all you’re doing on this case,” she said with a smile that quickly morphed into a frown. “Unfortunately I know all too well what the families of these girls are going through.” Her eyes glistened and she inhaled deeply. “Can I come in for a few minutes?”
“Ah, sure,” Bethenny said as she eyed Louise, noting how forlorn she appeared today. She wouldn’t have called Louise spritely before, but today there was a sadness in her eyes that wasn’t there a week ago.
Louise looked like she was trying to manage a smile, but it was too hard. “Thank you. It’s always nice to get to know my neighbors a little better.”
They weren’t neighbors, properly speaking, but Bethenny knew saying as much was run of the mill in a small town like this.
Bethenny closed the door behind Louise. “Kitchen is this way,” she said, leading Louise there so she could put down the plate.
“You have a lovely house. I knew the previous owner. It didn’t look like this when she owned it. You’ve done a marvelous job,” she said, her eyes seeming to scan every inch of the house.
Bethenny smiled. “Thank you, but Jenny from Northside Blinds deserves the credit,” Bethenny said, grabbing two mugs. “Coffee?”
“Please. So, how are you doing? I imagine this job of yours is very hard... seeing death and violence every day... I can’t imagine,” Louise said with a soft shake of her head.
“It’s my job,” Bethenny said with a small shrug. “I guess I’m used to it, but death is only one part. Fighting for justice for the victims is what gives me purpose.”
Something flashed through Louise’s eyes so fast Bethenny couldn’t be sure she saw it.
“I suppose so. It must still be hard, though,” she said with a sad smile. Her gaze dropped to the muffins. “Oh forgive me, these are for you,” she said sliding the plate forward a little before taking off the cling wrap. “Here, try one. They really are delicious. It’s a new recipe I created. I’ll be selling them at the local fair next week, so I’d appreciate your honest opinion.”
