Page 12 of Targeted By Desire

I jogged up the porch steps and let myself in with the universal key one of Ares’ other men made.

The distinct scents of birch woods, vanilla, and plum wafted through my nose as I slipped inside. I glanced around the long hallway in front of me.

Embroidered auburn flowers and burnt orange leaves cascaded down the long, black carpet covering the brown hardwood floor. At the end, there was a doorway leading in what I assumed was the kitchen. From where I stood, the light from the window illuminated the sink and corner of the stove. To the left of the hallway, a few feet behind a row of hooks where coats hung, was a stairwell leading to the upper level of the floor. To the right, a doorway with a round arch led into a carpeted room.

I took the path to the right and found myself in her living room. At the curved end of the room, three large windows came together to shine light into the room, illuminating the brown carpets and golden walls. Beside the window was a large sofa chair with a blanket thrown over the arm. A small coffee table lay next to it with a single, unlit candle and a copy of the novel, All the Sinners Bleed by S.A. Cosby, atop it. A bookmark was nudged in the middle of the book and orange tabs peeked out the edges of the pages.

On the opposite side of the living room, there was a sectional couch, a larger coffee table, and a television screen attached to the wall. Near the doorway on the other side of the room, another small table held a handful of picture frames.

As I peered over them, I spotted various versions of Simone’s face. Small and chubby with pigtails and a tutu in the arms of a smiling man who shared her smile. Thinner and more refined in a sparkling gold dress with her arms around another woman with bronze skin and loose curls in a matching outfit. Mature and painted with makeup as she stood with a graduation cap on her head, a degree in her hands, and an older man with a proud smile beside her. This man was different than the first one, but shared the same pride in his smile. The last resembled the woman I’d seen the other night with long braids and fire in her eyes, this time candidly laughing with a curly-haired man with tattoos decorating his arms.

Strange, I thought. There was none of her and her mother.

Moving away from the photos, I made my way into the dining room. There wasn’t much to see besides the long wooden table and some decorative photos of steaming coffee and fresh breads.

After passing through the kitchen, I found myself back in the hallway and headed up the stairs. There weren’t many photos decorating the walls. Even the paintings were slim to none. In their place were floral decals traveling up the stairwell and blowing through the invisible wind of the upstairs hall. Lilies and carnations mostly, in a mix of red and white. It almost reminded me of blood splatter.

On the upper level, two out of the four rooms were practically empty, occupied only with small beds and drawers for guests. One of the rooms was a makeshift office, complete with a wooden desk, Macbook, rolling chair, and a bookcase filled to the brim.

Glancing across the titles, I spotted a few familiar authors. More S.A. Cosby. Octavia Grant. Alyssa Cole. Nekesa Afia. Thrillers must be her thing.

The lower half of the bookshelf was filled with law and psychology textbooks. The edges looked worn and the color on the covers were beginning to fade.

I left the office to scope out her bedroom. Similar to the other rooms, this one was decked out in autumn colors of auburn, golden yellow, and burnt oranges. A chestnut vanity dresser was pressed against the wall near the door. An abundance of hair products, combs of varying sizes, wooden jewelry boxes and small colony of perfumes were neatly organized atop it. Against the far wall was a queen sized bed, and parallel to it on the other wall were two large dressers. A closet with a full length mirror lay closer to the other side of the room.

I noticed more photos shoved into the corners of the vanity mirror. Most of them were stills from photo booths. Each frame showed her with either a wide smile or a goofy expression. While a few featured the same light-skinned woman she shared a dress with in the photo downstairs, the man with the tattoos appeared in the others, with his arms around her or her on his lap, but not kissing.

Interesting. She didn’t have a boyfriend?

A woman as beautiful and ambitious as her surely had some idiot following her around with his tongue hanging out his mouth. Where was she hiding those photos of him?

I needed some kind of bait to lure her out from her fortress.

The other woman would have to do. She and Simone may not look related, but obviously they had some kind of bond. But was it a bond Simone would risk her life over? That was the question. I wasn’t going to waste my time if Simone wasn’t going to come running.

A flash of red caught my eye as I did another cursory glance over the vanity. It was peeking out from a crack in one of the drawers.

Raising a brow, I used my gloved hand to pull it open.

Inside lay a folded American flag.

Oh, the thought raced through my mind before I could catch it. Was this what deterred her from the courthouse?

I shook my head at the empathy threatening to tug at my chest.

No, no, no. I was asking too many questions about this woman’s life and not enough about her death. None of this shit was going to help me kill her. That’s the information I came here for. Not whatever sob story she had lying behind her fierce eyes.

Gritting my teeth, I shoved the drawer closed.

I moved away from the vanity in search of any other indicators of Simone’s personal life. But, I didn’t see any other pictures or sentimental objects around the room. Her inner circle is either extremely small or there were parts of her personal life that were best kept secret. In her line of profession, I couldn’t blame her. After all, here I was, hell bent on looking for her weakness. Who knows what others came through here looking for the same.

“Door open,” the automated system chimed from downstairs. Soft footsteps followed the sound, and Simone’s voice cut through the silence.

“I know!” She exclaimed. “It’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard!”

Shit, I thought as her steps came towards the stairwell. She was supposed to be at work. I saw her leave through the door cams with a backpack around eight a.m. this morning. I thought she wouldn’t be home until at least five or six.

Thinking fast, I rushed into the closet and closed it, leaving a minuscule crack to peek through. The moment I had an opening, I needed to get the fuck out of here.