Page 65 of Raging Inferno

Jessie King tossed back a healthy dose of vodka, savoring the burn down her esophagus. She’d been blissfully drunk earlier. That had been before Presley’s call. That brief conversation had instantly sobered her up. Her hand shook as she punched a number on her phone. She wasn’t sure if it was alcohol or nerves causing the tremor.

“Hello?”

“Charmaine’s dead.”

“What?”Tamera screeched.

Jessie had to yank the phone from her ear. Good Lord, the woman could shatter glass a mile away. Jessie poured another tumbler full of Grey Goose Altius and waited until the liquid cleansed her palate before saying, “Hundred bucks says you can’t guess how she died.”

“Damn it, are you kidding me right now, Jessie? Another fire?”

“Bingo.”

“Jessie, what’s going on? Do you think—”

“Shut up, Tamera.”

“Jessie, someone knows.”

“There’s no way . . . unless one of you talked.”

“Well, it wasn’t me,” Tamera barked.

“Then it had to be one of the others.” It had been her number one fear for years. She hated to count on anyone else and had misgivings from the beginning about trusting her friends. They were all weak. “Probably Charmaine and her holier-than-thou attitude.”

“Well, someone is taking revenge. I thought it might be you.”

Vodka burned Jessie’s throat as it came back up. She coughed and sputtered. “Are you joking?”

“No. Yeah. Maybe. I don’t know. I’m scared.”

“So am I, but you don’t see me blaming you.”

“I didn’t . . . I’m sorry.”

Jessie wanted to be mad at her old friend, but there wasn’t time. “Tamera, do you want to come stay with me? We have excellent security.”

“I can’t. My calendar is booked all week. I need the money or I won’t make my mortgage payments.”

Jessie almost offered to pay for her next installment but stopped before she did. She had plenty of cash—well, Sam did. But it had been ages since she and Tamera had been close. Years. What if Tamera was the one killing the other women? Jessie would be inviting the wolf into her home.

“All right. Stay safe.”

Jessie disconnected and refilled her glass. She didn’t know when she had emptied the last one, but then, she was comfortably indifferent. Her preferred state.

She stumbled to the window and gazed out at the manicured lawn. Her husband was off somewhere, probably having wild monkey sex with one of his many mistresses. At one time, it would’ve bothered her, but she’d given up on their relationship, probably before Sam had. The only reason they stayed together was for appearances. His very conservative parents would be disappointed in him if he divorced her, which might affect his inheritance. Sam wasn’t stupid. He knew he could stay married to her and have his side pieces, and they would be none the wiser.

Whatever. Jessie had stopped caring a long time ago.

Maybe she drank more than she should, but it was the only thing that kept the nightmares at bay. Even then, they still plagued her. Sometimes, she thought she might be slowly going crazy. Would that be such a bad thing?

Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen, blinking twice to bring the name into focus. She dropped the phone with a scream. Oh, God, it was Gwen! She was calling from the grave!

Jessie carefully picked up the cell and the fuzziness cleared. She let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t Gwen calling, but Glenis Ellington, the chair of the gala Jessie was hosting in a couple of days.

Jessie rolled her eyes and almost toppled over. She had to clutch the sideboard to stay upright. The last thing she wanted to do was hold an event, especially now that her high school friends were dying, but she had no choice. It had been on the social calendar for a year, and all the bigwigs, movers, and shakers in Serenity Shores and the neighboring cities, including Duluth, would be in attendance. Invitations went out weeks ago, and RSVPs were already collected. The train had left the station. No way to yank the emergency brake now.

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