Pure Hell (Seventh Level Book 1) by Charity Parkerson, Regina Puckett

alleviate her embarrassment. “Trust me. Detectives don’t have a lot of extra cash either. I really understand. I don’t mind dropping you off there instead. We went over her apartment this morning and didn’t find anything there relevant to the investigation. I feel as if I should warn you though. Kylie had the neighbor from hell. She might make your stay an unpleasant one.”
    Without thinking, he took her arm and they headed toward the front door. She laughed. “No worries. She sounds similar to mine. I guess everyone has one. “
    * * * * *
    “Damn, you weren’t joking about the neighbor. What a bitch.” Before she had time to relive the horrid event, Mark came in and closed the door.
    “You noticed, huh?”
    Anne rubbed her arms in an attempt to get warmer. Her sleeveless shirt had been perfect out in the hot, humid New Orleans weather but inside Kylie’s apartment, her arms were covered in goose bumps. It was hard to deny some of the chill might have been caused from seeing her sister’s lifeless body.
    Glancing at her chill bumps, Mark quickly scanned the living room before bringing all his attention back onto her. “I don’t remember it being this cold in here when Liam and I were in here earlier. I wonder if someone else came in after we left and bumped the air up a few degrees.”
    He motioned for her to get behind him and go stand over by the front door. “Something doesn’t feel right,” he said after a moment. As soon as she was where he wanted her to be, he glanced over his shoulder at her. His expression was now grim. “Stay here.” He didn’t wait for her to respond before pulling the service revolver out of his holster.
    Other than the movies and television, Anne had never seen anyone with a real gun in their hands before. The sight frightened her more than she imagined it would. Her first thought was there was no way he was leaving her alone. She stepped up as close as she could to him and said, “The hell you say. Wherever you’re going I’m going too.”
    He turned and gave her an exasperated look but didn’t argue. Touching his fingers to his lips, he motioned for her to be quiet.
    She rolled her eyes and grabbed a handful of his shirt. When she did, he looked back at her again so she nodded and whispered, “Go on. I’m with you.”
    This time he was the one to roll his eyes, but surprisingly he did as she said. In sync, they crept toward one of the bedrooms and then stopped at the closed door. He pointed toward it to indicate he was going in. She waved him forward so he slowly turned the knob and pushed the door open. He scanned the room before stepping inside. Resembling a puppet on a string, Anne followed close on his heels.
    The room was a wreck. Clothes, curtains, bedspread, sheets, even the foam pillows were all torn to shreds and scattered all over the floor. But it wasn’t what caught and held Anne’s attention. While Mark headed over to investigate the attached bathroom, she walked over to the bed. Lying on top was half of a picture. It had obviously been ripped from its wooden frame. The frame was broken into tiny pieces and the protective glass was broken into strange, long shards.
    The bathroom must have held nothing of interest because in seconds Mark was standing behind Anne. He didn’t touch anything but also didn’t attempt to stop her as she picked up the torn photo. The smiling face was so different from how her sister had looked an hour earlier in the city morgue. The photo was a sad flashback to the day before their aunt’s sudden death. At Anne’s twentieth birthday party, her best friend had snapped the picture and had given both her and Kylie a copy of it at their aunt’s funeral.
    The day reminded Anne of old times for her and Kylie. Almost as it had been before Kylie started talking to dead people.
    That day her aunt had baked Anne’s favorite desert—a three layer coconut cake. For once, the mood had been free of old grievances and Anne had seen