Chapter Eight
The lights had been on when they arrived. The property was large, from what he’d been able to tell, and the woman who’d answered the door had dark hair and brown eyes, attractive in a way that had him taking a second look as they stood now under the high vaulted ceiling of the entryway.
“This is a nice house you have, Mrs. Martin,” Mark said. He wasn’t sure what Billy Jo was looking at as she strode over to the hall table, above which hung a huge ornate mirror. Everything about this house seemed so neat and polished. He knew when someone had money. It showed in everything.
“Nia, please. It’s no longer Martin. I’m divorced. So I’m confused, Detective, on why you’re here,” Nia said, then dragged her gaze over to Billy Jo, whom he hadn’t introduced.
He was still reeling over
