Page 6 of Raging Inferno

Her eyes shot to the woman, hardly recognizing Denea Porter. They’d been in the same homeroom for four years. Presley barely held back a groan. In high school, Denea had been the biggest gossip. Presley’s return would be announced on social media by dinnertime.

“Hi, Denea. How are you?”

Denea had always been a tad overweight, constantly jumping on the bandwagon of the latest fad diets throughout her teens. It looked as if she’d put on at least a hundred pounds. Her once-brown hair was now a bleached blonde with her dark roots showing.

Denea held out her left hand and wiggled her fingers. “I married Doyle Sipes. You remember him, don’t you?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t.”

“Oh, well, he was two years younger than us. He was in the chess club and on the math team. He’s a history teacher at the high school now.”

“Congratulations.” If Presley didn’t stop her, Denea would prattle on for days. “Is Reggie in?”

“Oh, I think he is. Let me check.”

She made a call and then hung up. “He’ll be here in a minute. So, are you married?”

“No. I focused on my career.”

Denea’s head tilted to the side, and she gave Presley a sympathetic look. “Really? That’s too bad.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Because you’re smack dab in the middle of your childbearing years. You should be popping out babies.”

Was she seriously having this conversation? “Maybe if I was born in the nineteen-fifties. I’m quite content with my life, thank you.”

Denea opened her mouth to say something but was cut off.

“Presley?”

She turned to see Reggie standing behind her, looking more handsome than he had been in high school. A crisp white shirt and blue tie accentuated his dark skin. Black hair buzzed short framed a beautiful face. He’d been the prom king their senior year, and every girl had wanted to date him. They had gone out as juniors before realizing there were no romantic sparks. They’d decided they were better friends.

“Hey, Reggie. It’s good to see you.” Presley hugged him. Subtle notes of an alluring aftershave wafted to her.

“You too, Presley.” He glanced at Denea. “We can talk in the conference room.”

“We’ll catch up soon, Presley,” Denea called out.

Presley waved over her shoulder.

Reggie led her through the station, and memories assailed her of her former job. The sights, the smells, the sounds. So familiar. She’d loved it at first. Until she didn’t.

“Hey Branch, did that officer from Chicago call you back yet?”

Reggie paused to talk to the person standing before them. The man glanced at her and did a double take. Then he smiled. Around six-two, he was handsome, with dark-brown hair and eyes, but she did not like the look on his face. It was, for want of a better word, predatory.

“Detainee?” he asked Reggie out of the side of his mouth.

“Old friend,” Reggie replied.

“Ah, well, Reggie’s old friend, I’m Jed.”

“Detective Flowers is visiting from Rapid City, South Dakota, researching a cold case,” Reggie told her.

“Presley,” she said as she shook his outstretched hand. He held on far too long, forcing her to politely jerk her fingers free.

“I haven’t heard from Chicago,” Reggie told him. “I’ll call them back in a little while.”

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