Page 87

“Right.”

Josie had thought about what Noah had said before Wren ran away—about going back to the Last Kiss Killer’s first victim. She had already perused the file more than once, including the social media records that had been subpoenaed by the original investigators, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she might have missed something. Specifically, something to do with the lipstick. They had largely dismissed it during their many meetings, which made sense since it hadn’t led anywhere, but Josie wondered if overlooking such an important aspect of the killer’s signature was a mistake.

Luxe Glimmer’s Devil Divine might have been convenient for him given that his first victim was a sales consultant, but Josie was convinced there was more to it than that. Why else would he have used that specific brand and line on every victim after?

Unconsciously, her fingers fluttered over her lips. She could still feel the lipstick caked on her mouth, see the way it had been smeared across her face.

“What are you doing?” Turner asked, breaking into her thoughts.

“Going over the old files again.” But instead of pulling up the file with all of Alanna Jarrett’s social media records, she opened Facebook and typed in her name.

Turner had no response to that. He reached into the pocket of his suit jacket for a can of his disgusting energy drink.

Alanna’s family had left her account open. In the years since her death, people had posted grieving messages to her profile page on her birthday and the anniversary of her death. The police file only had records from before her death. If the killer enjoyed taunting people as much as they believed, there was a chance that he’d done so using this platform. Given her role as a Luxe Glimmer sales consultant, Alanna had made her profile public. Posting a sympathetic comment on her page on the anniversary of her death seemed like something this sicko would do. Alanna’s loved ones wouldn’t know he was the one who had murdered her but he would still get a perverse sense of satisfaction out of the act. Josie was certain he got just as much enjoyment out of making taunts that only he was privy to as the ones that actually terrified people.

Turner popped the tab on his can. He continued to study the map as he guzzled down his energy drink. “Did the LT tell you we talked to Dr. Holmes’s wife?”

“Yeah.”

As Josie read through the posts memorializing Alanna, she jotted down the names of the male commenters. There weren’t many.

“Yeah, well, the good doctor’s wife said that her husband used to take golfing trips all the time,” Turner said. “I’m trying to figure out if there’s a golf course close to where each victim was killed.”

Disappointment tugged at her insides when she reached Alanna’s content and none of the commenters raised any red flags. She’d check out all the men who had left words of grief anyway. For now, she kept going. Just like the first time she saw it in the police files, Josie felt a pinch in her chest when she saw Alanna’s final post. It was a photo of her and her eight-year-old son sitting side by side on a front stoop decorated with hay bales and pumpkins. He was dressed for Halloween in a scarecrow costume. Alanna had on a bright orange shirt that said Mummy Of The Year. They beamed at the camera, faces full of vitality and joy, with absolutely no inkling of the horror to come.

“Turner,” Josie said. “You can’t spit in this state without hitting a golf course. I’ve studied that map a thousand times in the past two weeks. The answer to your question is yes, there is a golf course near every victim’s home. It doesn’t matter though. We’d have to prove that Holmes had been in each area at the time of the murders. No golf clubs would keep records going back that far. Even if they did, we can’t build a case on it.”

He grumbled something but Josie was too busy scrolling. There were other posts of Alanna’s son or the two of them together but the majority of her page was filled with posts about Luxe Glimmer. Their products. Discounts. The benefits of hosting a makeover party. Alanna trying out new products. Praising their skin care line. Tagging other people in photos from parties and thanking them for trusting her with their cosmetics needs.

The first time Josie had looked through the social media records, she had mostly paid attention to the names of the people Alanna tagged or anyone who had left comments on her posts. Now she took her time and studied the photos that went with each one.

One week before her death, Alanna had thrown a party for a woman named Joanne Dunn who had checked out, as had everyone in her household and everyone on her guest list. Josie clicked through the dozen photos and studied them carefully anyway, finding nothing of note.

Two weeks before her death, Alanna had tagged a woman named Jenny Steffenilla. Had an absolute blast hosting a Luxe Glimmer Makeover Party for Jenny she had written before launching into a sales pitch for anyone reading. Eleven photos accompanied the post. Women laughing and drinking wine while trying various cosmetics. Taking turns sitting on a stool while Alanna applied makeup. Josie was on the seventh picture when a jolt of recognition sent her heart into overdrive. Three women sat on a couch. Fanned out on the coffee table before them was an array of mascaras, eyeshadow and blush palettes and lipsticks. Josie zeroed in on the distinct Devil Divine case but that wasn’t what made her heartbeat tick upward.

Behind the couch, several other women stood around, chatting. All the way to the right, a blonde woman held an infant in her arms. She gazed down at the baby with a huge grin. Her entire face was alight with joy. Adoration filled her eyes. Josie almost hadn’t recognized her without her fake smile.

“Turner,” she said.

He crumpled his can and tossed it toward the garbage bin. He missed. “I could still call all these golf courses and at least ask how long they keep records.”

“It’s a waste of time,” she said. “Come here and look at this.”

“Oh, because I thought of it, that means it’s a waste of time.” He retrieved his can and dropped it into the trash bin.

“Just look at this,” Josie said irritably.

He came up behind her, leaning over her to get a better look at the computer screen. “Is that Sylvia West?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? She looks kind of different.”

Because she wasn’t faking that smile.

In a crowded room of women who weren’t paying attention to her because they were focused on the cosmetics they’d come to sample, looking into the chubby little face of an infant, Sylvia hadn’t bothered to keep her mask on.

Turner put one hand on the edge of Josie’s desk and the other on the back of her chair, leaning in so close his tie brushed her ear.