Page 139 of Hometown Girl

“I want you to remember her face. I want you to do the right thing. Tell us what happened to Jess.”

Davis pressed his lips together. “I can’t help you.”

“Sir, I’m sorry to interrupt.” Davis’s assistant appeared in the doorway, but before he could continue, Bishop pushed through, followed by three other officers.

“Mr.Biddle, we’ve got a few questions for your son.”

Davis stood. “He’s not here.”

“I’m sure you won’t mind if we take a look around.”

“In fact, I do mind, Officer—what did you say your name was?”

Bishop took out a document and handed it to the other man. “I have a warrant, sir. I’m afraid you’ll have to stay in here while we conduct our search.” He must’ve caught the glance passing between Davis and his assistant, because he grabbed the assistant by the arm and ordered him to sit on the couch in the office. Before he left, he told one of the other officers to keep a close eye on them both.

Drew and Beth followed Bishop out into the entryway, mostly because they didn’t want to sit in the same room with Davis Biddle, but also because they were curious. Was Monty hiding somewhere in the house? And if so, what skeletons was he hiding in his closet?

Bishop jumped into action. “Let’s start in the kitchen. You guys stay here.” They watched him and the remaining officers disappear down a long hallway and through a door.

Drew stood in the same spot for all of five seconds before he inched away from her, looking up the grand staircase, which no doubt led to the bedrooms.

“Maybe he’s upstairs,” he said.

“Bishop said to stay here,” Beth whispered.

Drew held a finger over his mouth to silence her, then started up the stairs.

She leaned around to look down the hallway. When she saw the coast was clear, she—against her better judgment—followed Drew.

“You know the odds of us finding anything up here are really slim.” Beth hated the way her nerves had kicked up. Hated that they’d only ever find out the truth if Monty confessed.

And after twenty years of silence, why would he do that?

Uncovering the truth might be impossible at this point.

Drew opened a door at the top of the stairs. He then opened each door down a narrow hallway. Powder room. Linen closet. Guest bedroom.

They moved down the corridor. “Everything is so perfect,” Beth said.

“Too perfect, if you ask me.” Drew closed the door to another guest room. “This place is so sterile it’s creepy.” He pulled open the door to another linen closet. “I mean, look.”

The sheets and pillowcases were expertly folded. Pristine white towels were stacked next to each other, perfectly symmetrical. Two small canvas baskets were at the bottom of the closet, holding extra toiletries.

Drew closed the door and moved toward the last room in the hallway. “Maybe we should wait for Bishop,” Beth said.

He’d been waiting two decades for answers. He wasn’t waiting another minute. He turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.

They walked inside what looked like two large bedrooms combined into one spacious loft-style apartment. An old episode ofThe Andy Griffith Showplayed on a large-screen television that hung on the wall.

On either side of the TV, rows of books and DVDs were neatly arranged on shelves. A couch and a recliner faced the television, and hanging all around the room were old, framed movie posters. Behind the recliner was a collection of Superman paraphernalia—posters, books, figurines, toys.

“What in the world?” Beth’s eyes settled on the recliner, where a man sat, engrossed in the TV show.

Monty. He’d aged, of course, but he still had the same round face and wide nose he’d had back then.

Beth reached over and put a hand on Drew’s arm. He was okay. He just wanted to get this over with—once and for all.

Drew moved toward Monty, who wore a blank expression and seemed unaware they’d come into the room. Drew cleared his throat, and the man startled.

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