Page 11 of Accidental Murder
“It’s faux.”
“Wouldn’t it go fabulously with my bone structure?” Eve sucked in her cheeks. “What do you think?”
“Try ocelot. It’d match your freckles.”
Eve snapped a wet towel at Kayla. “What brings you in so late?”
“Aborted blind date.” She downed the rest of her biscuit and explained about her uncle and sister’s plot to fix her up.
“Purely because a guy wears braces does not mean he’s evil,” Eve said. “You should have taken the chance.”
“Miss, more coffee.” A customer halfway down the counter signaled Eve.
Eve tossed a nickel to Kayla. “Choose A-10. Cheer yourself up. I’ll be right back.”
Kayla depressed the button for “Heartbreak Hotel” and a chill cut through her. She whipped her head around. Looked for the source. No one had entered the diner.
Without warning, she started to cough. Hard wracking sounds as if someone was wringing the life out of her. Ashley’s face flashed in her mind.
Eve dashed to her. “Are you okay?”
Kayla grabbed the evening purse and tore out of the diner.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Kayla bolted from the Jeep.She raced toward her townhouse. Wind whipped up leaves and debris. The dusky scent of a wood-burning fire filled the air. She searched for the source and spotted smoke rising from the chimney at her neighbor’s townhouse. Relieved, she released the breath she’d been holding.
Until she jogged up the dozen steps of her place to the front door and saw it was ajar.
Keep calm.Everything’s fine.
She pushed the door open and whistled for the cat. Java didn’t appear. She stepped into the foyer. The silence assaulted her. Lights were on in the living room, hallway, and kitchen. All of her garage sale furniture was in its proper place, nothing upended.
“Ashley, you’d better not scare me!” she yelled with bravado she didn’t feel, recalling a time at the age of seven, when Ashley had burst from a closet, fake blood dripping from her lips.
More silence.
Kayla clomped to the kitchen. The smell of smoke crept in through the open window. She closed it. Unwashed dishes satin the sink. An open bottle of chardonnay stood on the counter beside Ashley’s designer tote and the lily she’d brought.
“Ash?” Kayla whispered and returned to the hallway.
Java yowled and bounded into her arms. The force knocked her off balance. She stumbled into the wall, dislodging a picture of her family. The frame hit the ground. Glass broke on impact.
“Java, drat!” Kayla snarled. Then stiffened. Why was his heart chugging? She tucked him under an arm and returned to the kitchen for a frying pan. In case.
Down the hallway, the office door was closed. Ashley wouldn’t have gone in there. She hated computers.
Kayla bellowed, “Ashley!” and stomped upstairs, making a lot of noise. If a prowler was inside, he’d better bloody well realize he shouldn’t mess with her.
She entered her bedroom. No Ashley. She strode into the bathroom. Pulled back the shower curtain. Empty. Where had her sister gone? She detected smoke again and doubled back to the hall. She peeked over the railing. Wisps of smoke were seeping from beneath the lower edge of the office door.
No, no, no!
Nerves tingling, she set the cat on the floor and tore downstairs. Tapped the doorknob. Not hot to the touch. She twisted it and pushed hard.
A murky haze filled the room. The single-hung window stood halfway open. Flames licked the windowsill, threatening to invade. Kayla sprang across the room and tried to close the window but couldn’t. The wood singed her fingertips.
Pivoting to flee, she pulled up short. Files were scattered on the floor. The desk chair was on its side. The screen of the HP desktop computer—smashed. The laptop she took to appointments—shattered. She spun around and saw Peter’s painting of a child begging for food, a gift to her on her last birthday, impaled on the finial of the floor lamp.
