Page 33 of Eden

He looked her straight in the eyes. “I think it’s connected to a past case.You’re too late. That note wasn’t left for Eden, it was left for me. And a civilian wouldn’t have written that. Whoever wrote that note is related to one of my past cases. There’s no other explanation. Her death is my fault. It was a revenge killing.”

Bethenny leaned forward. “Who were you working for at the time?” she asked quietly.

His lips rolled over one another as he seemed to weigh what to tell her. She raised her eyebrows and he sighed.

“That’s classified, but between you and me? CIA,” he said.

Her jaw dropped open. Now the theory made a little more sense, but there were many pieces of this puzzle missing.

Bethenny closed Eden’s file, folding her hands on top of it. “So, say Eden’s death was linked to a CIA case. Then how in the world is Jessica Mella’s death tied in with this? Why would the killer target her? You hadn’t ever met her, right?” Bethenny asked, suddenly wondering if that was true.

She didn’t have to wonder for long.

“No, I’d never met her. I certainly didn’t have a relationship with her. And, why did she have a photograph of you? That’s weird.”

It was weird, and Bethenny didn’t have a good explanation for that. In fact, she didn’t have an explanation at all. She paused on that thought. “One sec,” she said, standing and moving toward the front desk. “When that lady came in a few minutes ago, did she ask for me by name? How did you know she wanted to speak to me, specifically?”

The officer raised an eyebrow. “She did ask for you by name. Is there a problem?”

“No, no problem,” Bethenny said quickly, putting the officer at ease. “Thanks,” she said, returning to her desk.

“She knew my name—Louise White, I mean,” Bethenny said, clarifying.

Lachlan shrugged. “I can’t say I’m totally surprised. This is a small town and gossip travels fast. Faster than the mail gets delivered, that’s for sure.”

Bethenny smiled at his attempt to lighten the mood.

“Jessica worked at the bakery. That’s probably a good spot for local gossip,” Bethenny said as she opened Jessica’s file, flicking through the various reports. “Huh, she also worked for the local newspaper as an editor. Maybe the photograph was for them.”

Lachlan nodded, picking up the phone.

“Hey, it’s Detective Taylor from the Redwater Police Station. I would like to speak to Jessica Mella’s supervisor. Who did she report to?” Lachlan nodded and was presumably put on hold. He was silent for a moment before he reintroduced himself.

“Right. We found a photograph of Bethenny Monroe in the photography lab. Was Jessica working on a story?” he asked. His eyes narrowed as he listened. Eventually he said, “Understood. Thank you for your help.”

He hung up and looked to Bethenny, his eyes softening. “Jessica quit a few weeks ago, but she had been writing a piece on you. As I said, you’re the local Redwater success story.”

Bethenny didn’t know about that, but at least there was a reason. The problem was the photo had been taken a week ago, after Jessica had quit. Bethenny supposed Jessica could’ve kept working on the article, maybe hoping to publish it online herself. She sighed, it was a weak rationale for the photograph but at least it was one—because it had been freaking her out more than she’d wanted to admit. That information also meant Jessica had worked two jobs and very likely had a side hobby that was quite lucrative—which explained how she’d been able to buy the house.

Bethenny turned her attention back to the files on her desk, picking up Kiera’s file. So much had happened in the past few days, yet it felt like a week ago that Bethenny had been running through the woods and stumbled across Kiera’s grave. The symbol linked Kiera and Jessica, and the note linked Jessica and Eden. Other than that, nothing made sense. Why was Kiera’s body cut in two? Why was Jessica killed in one room and then dragged through the house?

Bethenny paused, realizing that might be the very purpose of the chaos—to throw off an investigation by making the two cases look very different and unrelated. Although she couldn’t prove it, she thought that’s what the hooded man had still been doing in the woods: he’d been digging a second grave for the rest of Kiera’s body. The placement of Kiera’s hands in the prayer position might also have been a tactic.

She shook her head softly as she attempted to organize the thoughts in her mind. She’d come to Redwater for some respite from the daily blood and violence she’d seen in Los Angeles. But, once again, it seemed death followed her.

“What are you thinking?” Lachlan asked. She didn’t realize he was still watching her and she had no idea what was written on her face.

“That death seems to follow me,” she said.

Now both eyebrows lifted. “You’ve said that before. Don’t you think anyone in this profession could say that?” he asked without seeming to judge.

“Sure,” she said, shrugging. “Anyone in this field is exposed to it daily... and I do believe this is my calling. God gives us all unique strengths, and it takes a certain type of person to do this job.” Their eyes locked. “You and I, we’re similar in that we can block our emotions, which allows us to do this work.”

His eyes remained locked on hers and something passed through them, ever so fleeting. He rubbed his jaw, which she noticed he did often. Her eyes followed his fingers for a moment before she realized what she was doing.

She looked back down at her case notes.

Focus, Bethenny.

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