Chapter Fifteen
Juanita didn’t move for a long time after Patterson left. She stared at the mound of files on the desk, her mind frozen yet somehow spinning wildly.
She had work. A ton of work.
She should get started.
“Oh God.”
Shelley Patterson was dead.
A tremor of uncertainty quaked through Juanita, shattering the quivering mass of stalled thoughts.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
She glanced around her office. Tried to think what to do.
This really had nothing to do with her. Nothing at all.
Shelley was dead because she didn’t know how to stay out of trouble. She was always . . .
Shit!
Who was she kidding?
Juanita needed a cigarette. Grabbing her bag, she plopped it on top of the mountain of work. Fished around inside until she found her Winstons. Lighter? Where was that damned lighter? Her hands shook.
“Shit!” She turned her bag upside down, let her stuff tumble over the desk, onto the floor. The lighter fell into her lap. Hand still shaking, she snatched it up and lit the cigarette.
She didn’t care that it was a smoke-free environment.
She had far bigger problems.
Juanita dragged in a lungful of smoke, savored it for as long as she could before allowing it to escape.
She’d promised her son she would quit.
Maybe when this was over.
Fear wrapped around and around her heart, tightened like a threatening serpent.
What had she done?
Christ. She’d made the mother of all mistakes.
How was she supposed to know the son of a bitch would go this far? Yeah, he dabbled in drugs. Had himself a regular little habit going on. But with all he had going for him, who would have imagined he would do this?
Shelley was dead.
Juanita clasped a hand over her mouth to hold back the desperation rising in her throat.
This couldn’t be happening.
Okay, okay. Don’t panic. She shoved the half-smoked cigarette into the abandoned Coca-Cola can on her desk.
No one knew. It was her secret.
“You’re okay.” She pulled in a deep breath. “Just do your job, Juanita.” She braced her hands on the desk and let the air seep slowly into her lungs. “No need to panic.”
Nobody would ever know.
She shook her head.
No way.
This murder had nothing to do with her.
She hadn’t killed anybody.
She had nothing to worry about.
A stillness crept over her, narrowed her view until one vivid truth filled her consciousness.
No, she had nothing to worry about except . . .
CJ Patterson.