Page 13 of Wild Frost

I dug into my pocket and handed her a card. "Get in touch if you remember any other details that might be helpful."

"I sure will. Such a tragedy. Whitney was such a beautiful woman. And those kids…" Sadness tortured her face. "My heart goes out to them. Please let Mr. Hollingsworth know that if he needs anything, just ask.”

“I will," I said.

Brenda and her crew rolled the body out on a gurney. Paris got her money shot, and the neighbors looked on with a mix of curiosity and horror.

JD and I walked across the lawn and joined the sheriff as he stepped out of the home.

A frantic blonde woman approached, her eyes wide as she looked at the body bag atop the gurney. "What's going on here?"

She was with a man in his late 30s, early 40s. He had short dark hair, dark eyes, a square jaw, and an athletic build.

A deputy blocked their path. "I'm sorry, ma'am. You’ll have to step back."

Her face contorted with sorrow, and her eyes misted. "Who is that?”

The deputy said nothing.

"Who's in the bag? Is that Whitney?"

"Ma'am, like I said, you'll have to step back.”

The sorrow turned to rage. "I'm not stepping back. Whitney was my best friend. I demand to know what's going on.”

The commotion caught my attention. JD and I approached the attractive woman. She was mid to late 30s with wavy golden hair that dangled to her chest. She had brown eyes, full lips, and soft skin.

I flashed my badge. "You were close to Whitney?”

She nodded. "Yes. Her kids stayed with us last night. What happened?”

"You must be Ainsley.”

Her brow wrinkled with confusion. "Yes. How did you know?”

Her husband, Dylan, introduced himself, and we shook hands.

"We've got a few questions for you," I said in a casual tone. "Would you mind stepping aside for a moment?”

Flustered, she said, "Sure."

I wanted to get away from the crowd and the horde of media that had arrived. We moved around the side of the house and up the driveway. Of course, the cameras moved with us and tried to get an angle. Two uniformed deputies kept anyone from getting close.

"Who died? Is that Whitney?” Ainsley asked, pointing to the ME’s van as they loaded the remains inside.

I gave her limited details, and tears spilled over her lids.

"Were you aware of her drug use?”

Her brow wrinkled. "Drug use?”

"We found cocaine, along with prescription narcotics."

Ainsley played dumb. "That's news to me."

She exchanged a glance with her husband to gauge his reaction.

"She was your best friend, right?”