I glance in drawers, scanning the notepad I find by the one near the bed, but it holds nothing except a grocery list. And proof that I get along better with dead people. She liked anchovies to the extent they made her list. Setting aside that disgusting habit, I continue to hunt for clues to her death. Eventually, I end up back in the closets and the bathroom. Once that search is complete, I exit the bedroom to the hallway with the intent to search the extra rooms, but pause at the steps as I find North standing at the bottom of the stairs, seemingly waiting on me.

I bite, and start walking down the stairs—not literally bite, not yet, but that could happen. I never rule out anything. Apparently eager to talk to me, he meets me on the bottom step.

“I spoke to her mother,” he says. “You were right. That’s not Emma Wells’ wedding dress.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Paranoid people get on my nerves almost as much as stupid people. Some people, even smart people, become paranoid after doing a bad thing, say getting rid of a dead body. Andrew is paranoid right now. He’ll see this as proof that this case is about me and Kane.

I, on the other hand, am not ready to read too much into the engagement ring on my finger and the wedding dress on the bride-to-be. Even if it’s not her actual wedding dress.

“Then we need to know where the hell it came from. I’ve asked to see the security system feed.”

“About that,” he says, “her security system is down. The security feed is knocked out.”

“Of course it is,” I reply dryly. “Where is the mother now?”

“At her house a few miles down the coastline. She’s going to meet me at the station in an hour. I suppose you want to sit in.”

“I believe in you, North. You handle it.” I step around him and deeper into the foyer, planting my feet right there, imagining the victim answering the door and accepting the box that ended up on the bed. She would have opened the box and then put on the dress. We think. We really don’t even know what was in that box. And why put on a wedding dress that isn’t yours?

I’m back to some sort of kinky game because what the fuck else could it be?

Outside of someone forcing her to put the dress on, of course, but that doesn’t fit the walk to the kitchen for a bottle of water. I’m back to her having a visitor. I turn to find North standing just behind me, hands on his hips. “Did we find her phone?”

“We didn’t. It’s not on the body or anywhere on the lower level. We’re still looking and I’ve started the process to retrieve her phone records.”