Page 7

“Miss West?” Josie called. “Trinity?”

No answer. Josie tried again. She placed her palm on the door handle. She couldn’t go in. Couldn’t enter someone’s home uninvited unless there were exigent circumstances. Surely, a possible fire and the fact that neither Sylvia West nor her sister was answering her calls counted. Her gut was roiling now, every cell in her body buzzing with urgency. Some deep, primal instinct beat against her ribs, telling her that she needed to get to her sister right now.

Josie opened her mouth to call for Trinity again but then the screech of a fire alarm pierced the air, bleating rhythmically. She yanked the door open and sprinted through it, screaming for her sister even as the logical part of her brain told her Trinity would never hear her over the alarm.

Heart thudding painfully in her chest, she raced through the living room, drawing up short when she reached the dining room. For a split second, Josie was paralyzed by the state it was in. The space was filled with so much stuff that the table was barely visible. There were piles of boxes, books, magazines, clothes, and plastic bags from various stores which had been knotted up, their contents a mystery. She spotted some children’s toys, plastic bins with Christmas decorations spilling out of them, unopened sleeves of paper plates and foam cups, packets of napkins, boxes of plastic utensils. Her mind registered that there were even more things among the haphazard piles but there was no time to catalog them.

She squeezed through the narrow pathway to the kitchen. There was a bit more visible floor space but it, too, was packed with things. Along the countertops were dishes, flatware, and mugs as well as new appliances still in their sealed boxes. Unopened mail, soda cans, and water bottles were scattered across the small table. Dirty dishes rose from the sink in towers. The trash bin was packed so full that the lid was partially open. At least a dozen pairs of shoes as well as a myriad of gardening equipment crowded the back door. Here the smell of smoke was cloying.

It was hot. Too hot. Josie might have imagined it but the pale yellow kitchen walls seemed to pulse with heat. Some calmer part of her mind registered that the fire was probably at the rear of the house but upstairs.

Upstairs. Had Trinity gone upstairs? Why?

Josie raced back to the living room, where she had seen a set of stairs leading to the second floor. The shriek of the fire alarm was skull-splitting by the time she reached the top.

“Trinity!”

Smoke curled along the ceiling of the hallway, hanging low overhead. Luckily the hallway was clear of items. Her sister stood at the other end in the doorway to one of the rooms. She was slightly hunched over, one hand gripping the doorframe. Josie started moving in her direction, having the disorienting sensation of being in one of those dreams where no matter how fast you ran, you didn’t seem to move at all. As she advanced, her brain catalogued details of the second floor in rapid-fire fashion. Long hall. Hardwood floors covered in dust bunnies. White paint bubbling along the walls. Four open doors, two on each side. One closed—that one was at the end of the hall. It was made of steel, wood-framed. An exterior door. A glow pulsed around the edges. There had to be an enclosed deck beyond it. Many homes in Denton had second-floor decks. An attic would have an interior door.

Josie called Trinity’s name again even though she knew it couldn’t be heard over the smoke alarm. It was hotter up here. Sweat rolled down her spine and between her breasts, pooled at her lower back, and dampened the armpits of her Denton PD polo shirt. Her eyes burned. The taste of the smoke coated her throat, scratched at her airway. Josie brought her collar up over her mouth and nose. Her head swiveled from side to side, quickly looking into each open door as she passed by. Bathroom, bedroom, home office, each one equally as packed full of random things as the dining room and kitchen. No people. No pets.

Finally, she reached her sister.

“Trinity!”

Over the endless, shrill report of the smoke alarm, Josie thought she heard sirens outside. Trinity didn’t respond, still standing in the doorway, nearly bent at the knees now. Josie gripped her elbow, making her jump. When she turned, Josie’s heart stuttered at the tears streaking down her face. Not from the smoke. She was crying.

“We have to get out of here!” Josie shouted. “Where’s Sylvia?”

Definitely sirens. Close now. Relief lodged itself in her stomach, small and fragile, because if they didn’t get out of here immediately, the smoke inhalation could do some serious damage, maybe even kill them. Unless the fire breached the steel door and exploded into the hallway first. Then it was game over.

Whether Trinity heard her over the din of the alarm and the sirens outside, Josie couldn’t be sure but she knew what Josie was asking. Angling her body away from the entrance to the room, she gestured inside.

Josie took in the scene as she pushed her sister to her knees where the smoke wasn’t so thick. Like the other rooms in the house, it teemed with bags, boxes, clothes, shoes and other things she couldn’t easily identify. As densely packed as the room was, the bed was visible. Trapped in a haze of pulsating heat that pressed in from every direction, Josie’s extremities suddenly felt cold. Sylvia West lay on her bed, staring sightlessly at the ceiling. She wore a floral dress that was torn down one side. The ankle-length hem was pushed up messily, revealing pale calves and knees. One of her sandals lay on the floor near the foot of the bed. Her hair looked as though it had been in a bun but half of it had been pulled violently from its fastenings. The gold cross necklace Josie had seen her wearing in her interview had been torn away, tossed onto the comforter. Around her throat was a deep red welt.

That wasn’t what made a chill cascade over Josie’s skin.

It was the bright red lipstick painted on her lips and then smeared to one side of her mouth.

The mark of the Last Kiss Killer.

Four

Josie felt her body seizing up, lungs aching to expel the smoke that cut right through the collar of her shirt. She dropped down beside her sister and together they started crawling as fast as they could toward the stairs. She kept Trinity in her periphery to make sure she didn’t fall behind. Again, there was that dream sensation of racing toward something that was perpetually out of reach. This time, it was the stairs.

The smoke alarm was a dagger stabbing into her ears, rattling her brain with each blaring second. The heat filling the hallway throbbed against their bodies, trying to brand them. Josie’s chest tightened. The smoky haze grew thicker. She glanced back at the steel door. It bowed beneath the heat and force of the fire on the other side. It was the only thing keeping the flames and the worst of the smoke at bay. Her relief at finding Trinity evaporated. Fear thrummed under her overheated skin and scraped against the back of her throat. Dizziness made it hard to move quickly.

There hadn’t been any smoke on the first floor when she entered. She tried to mentally calculate how long she’d been on the second floor. A minute, maybe. It felt like an eternity.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Josie staggered upright, dragging Trinity with her. The moment her sister took a step, her body listed to the side, her legs quivering unsteadily. Quickly, Josie tucked Trinity against her side and pulled one of her arms across the back of her neck. Halfway down, Trinity started coughing, body convulsing. They fell in a tangle of limbs onto the first-floor landing. As quickly as her weak, shaky legs could manage, Josie extricated herself from her sister and lurched to her feet. Trinity raised a trembling hand so Josie could pull her to standing. Her chest was heaving fast and hard, her face bright red. Josie kept hold of her as they stumbled toward the front door. Trinity paused in the center of the living room, pointing at her purse and laptop, unable to speak. It only took Josie two strides to retrieve them before returning to her sister, ushering her back toward the exit. She threw the screen door open with a clang.

Two Denton city fire trucks sat out front, blocking the street. Firefighters poured from the vehicles, securing the perimeter, deploying hoses and dragging them toward the house.

Holding Trinity close to her side, Josie stumbled down the steps. A firefighter appeared before them, grasping Josie’s upper arm and guiding them away from the house.

“Is there anyone else in there?”

Josie tried to talk over her burning throat. “The owner, she’s still in there but she’s—” She took a moment to gulp in some fresh air. “She was already deceased by the time I arrived on-scene. Second floor. Bedroom. Second door on the left.”