CHAPTER ELEVEN
Fifteen minutes later, Stella and Maxwell arrived at the Branford Police Department, which was handling Isabella’s murder investigation.
Maxwell was clearly a regular here, because he barely had to show his badge before being greeted by the desk sergeant, and allowed entry to the back offices. In the third office down a long corridor, Roth was waiting. He’d set up his laptop and was using the screen to scroll through pages of data.
“Afternoon,” he said, looking up and rubbing his fingers over his eyes, as if they were taking strain from looking at the bright, white surface.
“What’s your feedback? Did you contact the gardener?” Maxwell asked. He took a seat on the other side of the desk, and Stella walked around to sit on the only other spare seat next to Roth.
“Yes, he’
