Page 47 of Murder in the Lighthouse

“Bingo.”

“But even though Ken is no longer on the force, he still has his loyal allies,” Lucien assured her. “You can’t trust just anyone anymore.”

“I know. I had already taken that into consideration when I went to see Bethany’s parents. Someone followed me halfway there until I managed to lose them.”

“You were followed?” Brogan asked.

“Yep. Probably because I tried to get a warrant for Bethany’s phone records, it went nowhere. My captain pulled me into his office and chewed me out, reminding me that I’m not an investigator, that I’m a desk jockey. So, I decided to take more time off. This time, I asked for a week.”

“That’s a good move. Maybe I can find a workaround on the phone records,” Birk commented. “But getting followed is serious stuff. You need to watch your back.”

“Then it’s a good thing I was able to shake them off.”

Jade took a sip of her wine. “Why’s that? Other than the obvious.”

“Because Bethany’s parents found a set of keys among her belongings that went to a storage locker they knew nothing about. They dug through her things and found a receipt where she’d been paying for it since early August. And when they went to check it out, they found Bethany’s gold mine, so to speak, the stuff she’d been keeping from everyone. She’d made copies of all the files—Jill’s, Connie’s, and Cynthia Zepp’s—everything she’d connected to the same killer. And get this, Mr. and Mrs. Heywood found a working whiteboard with all the data she’d collected—crime scene photos, witness statements, neighborhood canvassing—you name it, everything you’d see on a working homicide investigation. She used that storage locker as an office to keep track of all the information she’d gathered.”

Brogan sat up straighter. “Have you seen it?”

“Not yet. But that’s the way it was described to me. I’m headed there after I eat.”

“You’re not going there alone. We’re not letting you go alone,” Brogan reasoned. “What if you’re followed again? What if you were followed here? Nope. We’re going with you.”

Trish grinned. “That’s what I hoped you’d say.”

When they rolledup the door on Bethany’s storage unit, no one was more surprised at the contents inside than Brogan. She stood back and stared at the entire space. Bethany had taken a storage locker and turned it into a detective’s office. Somehow, she had shoved a beaten-up old desk with an equally decrepit office chair into a corner. She had the information organized about each homicide in timeline order. Documents were organized on a side table, cataloging each crime. She had analyzed photographs of crime scenes, gone over newspaper clippings, highlighted details, and read countless witness statements taken from the murder book. Her whiteboard was an easy-to-follow trail of clues that led to the Shepherd brothers. Pictures of the two men were tacked next to the three victims. It listed their connections to Connie, Jill, and Cynthia Zepp.

Brogan reached for a stack of files labeled with the victim’s names. “Look at this. She outlined details in their background checks that linked them to Keith and or Ken.”

“Impressive,” Trish said.

Jade studied Bethany’s work as she circled the room with the others. “Can anyone tell me why detectives use a whiteboard versus a laptop and a software app? When will homicide detectives come into the twenty-first century?”

Trish scooped up several documents from the desk. “The investigative process changes a lot. A whiteboard is easier andquicker to update. Justerase what’s irrelevant, what changed, instead of booting up your laptop and mapping everything with a software database.”

“Oh. Okay. That makes sense,” Jade muttered as she realized Brogan kept staring at all the furniture and file cabinets. “What’s wrong?”

“Bethany didn’t do this by herself. There’s no way. She must’ve had help. My guess is she asked Sam. He must’ve known what she was up to and helped her arrange everything. He helped move her in here and never said a word to anyone about it because she had asked him not to.”

Trish nodded. “That would explain what got Sam killed. Maybe he knocked on the wrong door, asking questions someone didn’t want to answer.”

“Ken and Keith,” Birk mumbled. “Deep into the drug trade makes you feel invincible unless someone noses around and starts asking questions.”

“Even a file room clerk,” Lucien assessed. “These guys play to win.”

They took turns poring over the evidence, each taking a case file, following the clues Bethany had left behind, and unraveling the intricate web she had discovered. Clearly, she had stumbled on two men more dangerous than anyone ever anticipated.

A chilling realization settled over them as they delved deeper into the documents. The killer Bethany had been tracking wasn’t the lone wolf she’d thought but part of a sophisticated network linked to an organized drug trade. The pieces painted a sinister picture of money, power, and deceit.

“We need to approach this carefully,” Trish said, her expression grave. “No missteps. If we want to take down the Shepherd brothers and whoever else is involved, we need solid evidence to hold up in court. Whether you like it or not, we need to involve—”

“Theo,” Brogan finished. “We need to bring in the guy investigating Sam’s murder.”

“He’s already said he doesn’t need our help,” Lucien reminded her. “And Bethany copied files she probably shouldn’t have copied.”

Brogan nodded thoughtfully. “Are you suggesting we shouldn’t get her into trouble? She’s already disappeared. I don’t think she’s worried about her job anymore, more like her life is on the line.”

Lucien ran a hand through his hair. “I still think we should go back to the winery. We might find something incriminating.”

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