"Well, I knew Rachel quite well. I only knew Patricia on a passing basis, you know? I knew who she was, but we weren't close or anything like that." He shook his head as if to clear cobwebs out of it and then gestured toward the two chairs. "Please, sit down."
Kate and Sloane took the seats. The office felt even smaller with all three of them in it, but Mitchell seemed comfortable in the space. She leaned back in her chair and folded her hands on the desk.
"I assume you know I tried to sue Crawford and his program," Mitchell said. “Is that why you’re here?”
"Yes, we learned about that," Kate said. "Can you tell us what happened?"
"Well, I went through the program two years ago," Mitchell said. Her voice was calm but carried an edge of bitterness. "I had been practicing law for twenty years, got burned out, and thought maybe I could start something new. Crawford made it sound so achievable. He had all these success stories, all these women who had transformed their lives through his program."
"But your experience was different," Sloane said.
"My experience was a waste of time and money." Mitchell's jaw tightened. "The program cost fifteen thousand dollars. They promised personalized mentorship, business planning support, and networking opportunities. What I got was generic advice and a bunch of worksheets I could have downloaded for free online."
“And you didn’t take notice of this until you’d started your own business?” Sloane asked. “Seems like that’s the sort of thing you might bring up near the end of the course.”
Mitchell looked slightly embarrassed as he nodded. "Yes, I suppose…Well, I guess on some level, Ididknow. But I really wanted to believe it wasn’t so…that it would all sort itself out when I started my business.”
Kate made notes on her phone. "What kind of business did you try to start?"
"Legal consulting for small businesses. I thought I could use my background to help entrepreneurs navigate contracts and regulations. But the business failed after four months. I couldn'tget clients, couldn't generate enough revenue to cover my costs. It was a disaster."
"And you blamed the program for that," Sloane said.
"No, not exactly. I blamed Crawford for selling me a dream that had no foundation in reality." Mitchell's voice rose slightly. "He's a con artist, not a businessman. He targets vulnerable women, women who are looking for a change or a second chance, and he takes their money while promising them success that most of them will never achieve."
Kate watched Mitchell's face carefully. The anger was real and deep, but it seemed to be focused entirely on Crawford. "What about the women who did succeed after the program? Women like Patricia Holmes and Rachel Thornton?"
Mitchell's expression softened slightly. "If they succeeded, it was because of their own hard work and wherewithal, not because of anything Crawford taught them. Some people are just naturally good at business, I guess. They would have succeeded with or without his program."
"You don't think the program helped them at all?"
"I think the program took their money and gave them very little in return," Mitchell said. "But I don't resent them for succeeding where I failed. Good for them. I'm genuinely sad that someone killed them. That's horrible."
Sloane leaned forward slightly. "Do you have any idea who might want to hurt them? Right now, Second Act is the only thing linking them."
"No." Mitchell shook her head. "I didn't know either of them personally. I just saw their faces in Crawford's marketing materials, heard their names mentioned as success stories."
"What about Crawford himself?" Kate asked. "Do you think he could be involved in something like this?"
Mitchell considered this for a moment. "I don't like the man, but I can't see him killing his own success stories. Those womenwere so-called proof that his program worked. Why would he eliminate his best marketing tools?"
"That's a good point," Kate said.
"Look, Crawford is a con artist who preys on vulnerable women with empty promises," Mitchell said. "But he's not a murderer. He's just a greedy businessman who doesn't care about the damage he does to people's lives and bank accounts."
"Ms. Mitchell, I need to ask where you were last Thursday evening and two nights ago.”
The question was abrupt and out of nowhere, and very abrupt—in other words, the standard for what Kate was beginning to see as Sloane's method of investigation. Kate expected Mitchell to bristle at the question, to get defensive or demand a lawyer. Instead, Mitchell simply nodded as if she had been expecting this.
"I understand," she said. "Thursday evening I was here working until about seven, then I went home. I live alone, so no one can verify that. Oh, though I did go out for drinks with my sister around 8:30 or so. We were out until about ten. Friday morning I had a client meeting at nine. I can give you her name and contact information."
"That would be helpful," Sloane said.
Mitchell turned to her laptop and pulled up her calendar. She wrote down the client's information on a piece of paper and handed it to Sloane. " His name is Brian Colegrove. He's going through a custody dispute. We met here in this office from nine until eleven on Friday morning."
"Were you here alone on Thursday evening?" Kate asked.
"No, I had a client meeting that ran late. It ended around six-thirty. His name is David Park, and he was here with his wife discussing a prenuptial agreement. I can give you their information as well."
