Page 12 of Accidental Murder

“What the?—”

Someone coughed.

Kayla crouched. Ashley lay beneath the desk, tucked in a fetal position. “Ashley!” Her eyes were closed, her skin tinged blue. Blood oozed from her mouth. “Oh, no, Ash!”

Lowering her head, Kayla inched to her. The fingers of her sister’s right hand were tangled beneath a silk scarf that was tied tautly around her neck. In her left hand she held a notecard. Quickly, Kayla loosened the scarf. Ashley gulped in air and gagged. The notecard fell from her grasp.

“Ash, who did this to you? Why are you in my clothes?”

No response.

Kayla yanked her cell phone from the pocket of the faux fur and stabbed in 911. An operator responded. Kayla relayed the emergency and address. The operator said a team was on its way.

More smoke flooded the room. Ashley coughed again. Kayla had to get her sister to safety before the fire encroached, but she couldn’t carry her by herself. Wedging her hands beneath Ashley’s armpits, she dragged her from beneath the desk and rolled her onto her back. She pinched her nose and breathed into her mouth. “C’mon, I need you on your feet,” she urged, but Ashley didn’t rouse.

Kayla applied brief thrusts below her sister’s diaphragm. “Wake up. Please. I need you to walk with me. Outside.” Adrenaline ricocheted through her as she repeated the routine.

Ashley gasped. Her eyes flickered open. “Kayla . . .”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“He wanted”—Ashley’s voice caught—“you.”

“Who wanted me?”

“He . . .” She licked her lips. “He said your name. I’m not you.” Her body spasmed and went limp.

“No!” Kayla pressed on her sister’s chest again. Nothing. No quick intake of air.

Orange flames flogged the window. A blare of a siren sliced the air.

“Ash, I’ll be right back.” Kayla tore from the townhouse.

A firetruck screeched to a halt at the curb.

Two firemen, one hulking and one lean, leapt from the cab. They raced around the side of the townhouse.

Kayla darted after them, a bitter wind whipping her face. “Guys, wrong way!” she shouted. “My sister’s inside?—”

“Ashley!” Mrs. Tennyson, Kayla’s neighbor from across the street, shuffled down the stairs of her home. She was wearing a blue chenille robe. A pair of bifocals dangled on a chain, Her Skye Terrier nipped at her heels. “I called 911. I saw a man?—”

“Can’t talk.” Kayla intercepted the larger of the firemen, who was returning to the front of the building. “My sister. This way.”

He signaled for her to lead.

Kayla sprinted up the stairs. The moment she entered the office, the window exploded from the heat. Glass shards sprayed everywhere.

The fireman shoved Kayla behind him, lifted Ashley as if she was a ragdoll, and hurried out.

By the time they arrived on the front porch, a crowd had gathered on the sidewalk and two police cars had arrived. Officers, some in uniforms and others in plain clothes, were asking questions.

Kayla’s gaze was drawn to the ambulance zooming in her direction. The vehicle stopped. A pair of medics jumped from the rear of the vehicle and withdrew a stretcher. The fireman placed Ashley on it. A medic strapped a breathing apparatus over her mouth. A second medic covered Ashley’s body with a blanket, all except for her feet, which were clad in Kayla’s stupid fuzzy slippers.

Not the fashion statement you’d want the world to see,Sis, Kayla thought, the notion jarring her.

Without warning, she vomited, missing her high heels. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and headed toward her sister, who was lying motionless on the stretcher.

One of the medics prevented her from drawing nearer. “Please, ma’am, back away.”