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“Good luck with that.” Trinity scoffed and picked up one of the boxes of frozen mozzarella sticks she’d left on the counter, tearing it open. “Wren has access to the internet, you know. Besides, in a few months that interview is going to be the centerpiece of our episode on the Last Kiss Killer. Now that we’ve got Sylvia’s interview, we can release the episode in time.”

“In time for what?” Josie said.

Trinity lined up the mozzarella sticks on a tray and opened a box of potato skins. “Did you listen to anything I said in the last oh, I don’t know, year?”

Josie reached around her sister and turned on the oven. “You’ve said a lot of stuff in the past year.”

“Stop being obtuse. You know I’m talking about the Last Kiss Killer case.” Trinity studied the instructions on the box of potato skins before adjusting the temperature of the oven.

Josie knew that Trinity had wanted to do an episode about the Last Kiss Killer from the moment she’d gotten her own show, but there was no way she was doing it without Sylvia West. Josie was certain she had hearing loss from the squeal her sister had let out when she called to say she’d finally scheduled a meeting with the woman. The fact of the interview itself had eclipsed whatever Trinity had told her about the timing of the episode’s release. Josie racked her brain, trying to recall the significance.

“I can hear you thinking,” Trinity complained as she tore open a box of chicken taquitos and dumped them onto the tray next to the potato skins. “This year is the fifteenth anniversary of the Last Kiss Killer’s first murder. We can get this episode out before Christmas. It’s perfect.”

Josie was happy for her sister, truly, but she couldn’t resist the chance to use Trinity’s most frequent lecture against her. “Remember when we talked about being present in the moment when we’re all spending time together? No shop talk?”

Trinity arranged the chicken taquitos around the other appetizers. “I know, I know, but Josie, this isn’t just any interview. Do you know how many journalists would kill to talk to Sylvia West? She and her sons laid low after the attack. They were difficult to find and Sylvia refused all media requests for over a decade.”

Josie picked up the last box of frozen appetizers—puff pastry bites with artichoke and jalapenos—and opened it. “’Cause she was worried he’d come back and finish the job?”

“Wouldn’t you be worried about that if you were in her position?” Trinity tried to fit the puff pastry bites onto the tray crowded with the rest of the frozen appetizers. Frowning, she said, “Are you sure we can cook these all at once?”

Josie laughed. “How the hell would I know? I can barely toast bread.” It was a bit of an exaggeration. Once notorious among friends and family for her lack of culinary skills, Josie had improved after taking cooking lessons from their friend Misty Derossi. She still had a long way to go. “All the instructions said to bake at three hundred fifty degrees for roughly the same amount of time.”

Trinity’s lips twisted as she stared at the tray. “I don’t want to ruin Frozen Appetizer Sampler Night.”

“It’s fine. We’ll just have Order Pizza Night. Again. Noah was the one who suggested the appetizer thing since this stuff expires soon.”

Trinity’s brows rose. “Order Pizza Night? So official!”

Josie laughed. “He tries to make everything sound official for Harris. Now he’s doing it with Wren, too.”

Their friend Misty had an eight-year-old son, Harris. Josie and Noah had been an integral part of his life since he was born. He called them Aunt JoJo and Uncle Noah. They’d always tried to make mundane things feel like an adventure with him.

Trinity put the tray into the oven. “He knows she’s fourteen, right?”

“Yeah,” Josie said. “I’ve talked to him about it but since Wren goes along with it, he won’t stop. His dorkiness is amusing to her, apparently.”

As Trinity set the kitchen timer, a series of loud, high-pitched shouts from both Drake and Noah sounded from the living room, followed by Wren’s raucous laughter. The two men continued to tease one another, though Josie couldn’t make out what they were fake-arguing about since they were talking over each other. Wren joined in, ribbing them both. Fragments of what she said reached the kitchen. Something about them being so terrible at spotting lies that they should quit their jobs.

Trinity rested her hip against the counter. At her feet, Trout whined, looking devastated that he hadn’t received so much as a scrap of human food. “She’s doing really well.”

Wren had been far more relaxed with them lately, laughing a lot more and opening up to them in ways she hadn’t before.

“She’s having fun,” Trinity added with a smile.

It had been Trinity’s idea for them to play Two Truths and a Lie together as a way of letting Wren get to know them better in an informal way. Josie had hedged, but she couldn’t deny the way Wren had come alive since they started playing. She hadn’t even told Noah he was corny when he suggested Frozen Appetizer Sampler Night.

Josie glanced at the doorway and back to her sister.

Trinity shook her head, her smile going from smug to amused. “You really can’t just take the win, can you?”

It was true that Josie spent ninety percent of her time worrying about Wren and everything related to Wren and only about ten percent enjoying the progress they were making with her.

Josie lowered her voice. “Don’t you think she should be spending a Saturday night with kids her own age?”

“She’s having a good time, Josie. That’s what’s important. It’s not like she doesn’t have friends. There’s Erica⁠—”

“Who’s a college student.”