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“I have so many questions,” Wren said, clasping her hands together against her chest.

In the nearly eight months she’d been with them, Josie had never seen her like this. Brimming with excitement, abuzz with genuine curiosity, fully engaged and present in the moment. Interested in them, the new family she never wanted.

To think all it took was the revelation that Josie had shot the man who later became her husband.

Three

“You know, I could have just called a rideshare,” Trinity said.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Josie watched her sister check her reflection in the mirror on the back of the passenger’s side visor. They were identical twins. Pale skin, blue eyes, black hair. Their facial features were the same, save for the scar that ran from behind Josie’s ear, along her jaw, to beneath her chin. They’d spent the same amount of time getting ready that morning and yet, Trinity looked television-ready while Josie was what could generously be described as a hot mess. Her sister’s makeup, which was light today, made her look dewy and fresh-faced while there wasn’t enough foundation or concealer to hide Josie’s chronic exhaustion. Then there was Trinity’s hair. It haunted Josie’s dreams. Her black locks were silky and glossy, despite the August humidity which had turned Josie’s hair into frizzy waves the moment she stepped outside.

Patting her hair self-consciously, she threw her SUV into reverse and backed out of her driveway.

Trinity ran a thumbnail under her lower lip, eyes still locked on the mirror, “Well, I appreciate the ride. You don’t have to wait for me.”

Josie drove in the direction of East Denton. “I don’t have to be at work for another hour. It’s no problem. I thought you said it was a quick follow-up question.”

Trinity had been up for hours after Frozen Appetizer Sampler Night, going over Sylvia West’s interview footage for the dozenth time before deciding that she needed to speak with the woman again. Despite the late hour, Sylvia had taken her call and agreed to meet early the next morning. Unfortunately, Drake’s rental car had broken down and both Josie and Noah needed their vehicles. Noah was taking Drake to get a new rental. Wren was spending the day with Erica at her apartment. Josie had offered to give Trinity a ride to Sylvia’s house before she reported for her shift.

“A quick follow-up is what we talked about when I called her last night,” Trinity said. “But I thought of a few more things. If I don’t get everything now, while she’s willing to talk, I might lose her. In a month from now she might decide she doesn’t want to talk to the press anymore.”

“But your camera crew went home to New York last night.”

“I don’t really need her on camera for these answers. Besides, it might be better without the crew, out of the public eye. Alone.”

“Did you have problems yesterday?” asked Josie.

“Not problems, exactly, but I think it was overwhelming for Sylvia to begin with, putting herself out there after all this time. Half the damn town was outside the restaurant.”

“I know,” Josie said. “We got a bunch of calls. Patrol had to clear them out twice.”

Once word got out that Trinity was going to be interviewing the only survivor of the Last Kiss Killer who now lived in Denton, people had become very curious. Some of them intrusively so.

“The leak didn’t come from my team,” Trinity put in.

“Sylvia wasn’t trying to keep it a secret though, if she was willing to go on national television and talk about what happened to her.”

“True. I think she hoped to stay under the radar a bit longer, maybe until it aired. Certainly, that’s what her sons wanted. Well, they didn’t want her doing the interview at all. They were there, too, yesterday. Hovering. It was sweet, actually.”

Josie turned down Sylvia West’s street, counting the house numbers as she rolled slowly past. Sylvia lived in a quiet neighborhood. Two-story brick homes sat on half-acre lots. There were no driveways, however, only street parking. Josie pulled over on the opposite side of Sylvia’s house. The black shutters looked weathered, but otherwise, it was well-kept. Potted flowers sat on each concrete step leading to the front door. Josie counted seven total. Through the screen door, she could see that the exterior door was open.

Trinity checked her makeup one more time before gathering her purse and messenger bag. “You don’t have to wait. I’ll get a rideshare back to your house when I’m done.”

“I don’t have to be at work for another hour,” Josie said. “I can wait.”

“Okay, but if I’m not done in a half hour, just go.”

Without waiting for a response, Trinity climbed out of the SUV and strode across the street. She wore one of her signature sheath dresses, this one a periwinkle blue paired with taupe heels. Again, Josie marveled at her sister’s effortless elegance. Here she sat in the khaki pants she’d dug out of the bottom of her hamper because she hadn’t had time to do a load of laundry since her last shift, and a scuffed pair of black work boots that were one foot-chase away from disintegrating.

Trinity cupped a palm over her forehead and peered inside the house before tugging the door open and disappearing inside. Josie waited, sipping coffee from the travel mug she’d brought along with her. Only a minute or two had passed when she saw a thin column of smoke rising from behind Sylvia West’s home. Her body stiffened, instincts telling her that something was very wrong.

Without thought, Josie found her cell phone in the console and clutched it in her hand. Seeping in through the vents in Josie’s SUV was the smell of wood burning. Wood and something else. Something that wasn’t supposed to burn. Before her eyes, the pillar of smoke behind Sylvia West’s house turned black.

“Shit.”

Josie was out of her vehicle before she even had time to think, dialing dispatch to request the fire company as she sprinted up the steps to the house. The smell was stronger here but beyond the screen door, the living room looked perfectly normal, though dated with its wood-paneled walls. There was a worn brown couch with multicolored knit pillows scattered across the cushions. Trinity’s purse and messenger bag rested on the floor beside it. In the center of the glass-topped coffee table was a tray of mugs, a small kettle, and a coffee serving set.