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“Since your mother died, did either of you notice anything out of the ordinary? Did she ever mention being followed? Approached by someone she didn’t know?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

“When is the last time you saw Louis Fisher?”

His brows drew together. “What? You think—you think Fisher is the killer?”

“We’re looking into everyone who has had contact with your mother and your wife recently.”

“It could be him. He was obviously obsessed with my mom. Showing up uninvited at the church while we were there to plan Mom’s funeral.” He scratched at a dark streak along his other forearm. “Then he dropped the big bombshell that he was Mom’s boyfriend. That’s the last time I saw him. Do you think it’s him? Is that why you’re asking?”

“Like I said, we’re looking into every possibility.” Josie could swear the sewage and shit smell grew stronger every time Dean moved.

“Are there other possibilities?”

She gave her rote answer. “We can’t discuss the details of an open investigation. Let’s go back to your mom, though. Do you remember the names of any of the families she worked for when she was a doula?”

“Why are you asking about that?”

“Like I said, every possibility.”

“She worked for a lot of different families.” Dean rubbed away half of the streak on his forearm and its remnants rested in his lap. “We met a few of them but mostly she kept us separate from her work. She used to say the last thing a couple with a newborn needed was two rowdy boys causing havoc everywhere they went. She was always saying we’d embarrass her because we were so bad. We had a lot of energy. It made her mad. When she’d get home from work, she used to say she couldn’t deal with us after her long shifts. We tried being quiet and not running around the house, but we were kids. We couldn’t help it. So yeah, she didn’t like us hanging around anyone she worked for.”

Josie inched her chair back a little, trying to get some distance from the stink. “Do you remember the names of the families you did meet?”

“No, I don’t. Carter would probably remember some of them.” He squinted, staring at the wall, as if trying to conjure a memory from thin air. “There was one guy. Mom worked for him and his wife a few times. I can’t think of his name, but he was there the last concussion I had. The one where they told me I had to stop playing.”

“He was there at the game?” asked Josie.

“No. He was there at the hospital. He was one of the doctors. We couldn’t get in touch with Mom. Carter called and texted her like twenty times, but she never answered. He took me to the ER. The doc took good care of me. I was already eighteen, so Mom didn’t technically need to be there. He said he would talk to her later. He was really cool about everything.”

“Do you remember anything else about him?”

Dean frowned. “I don’t.”

“Was that the last time you saw him? The day you had your last concussion?”

His eyes widened. “Wait! No. I saw him again like two years ago. Here in Denton. He works at the hospital here now. I hurt my ankle. Kirstie took me to the ER for an X-ray. He recognized me. I don’t know if he still works there, though.”

“You don’t remember his name?”

“No. Sorry.”

Josie took her phone out of her back pocket, pulled up the internet browser and typed in the web address for Denton Memorial Hospital.

“You think it’s that guy? You think he’s the Last Kiss Killer?”

She found the search physician feature and selected Emergency Medicine from the drop-down menu of specialties. “I think that he may have been in contact with your mother recently and if so, we need to talk to him. We would also like access to your phone to confirm everything we talked about today.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. My phone is… I think I left it outside my house. I’m not sure. I don’t remember much after I called 911.”

“One of our officers found it. We’ve got it,” said Josie as she scrolled through the thumbnails of doctors currently working at Denton Memorial’s emergency department. Only a couple of them had photos. “I just need you to sign a consent form for us to review the contents. It may take a day or two to get it back to you.”

“Okay, yeah. I’ll sign whatever you need.”

Gretchen, who had watched the interview from the adjacent CCTV room, walked in with the form they’d discussed. Dean never even looked up from his lap, signing where she indicated.

He asked, “Can I go now?”