The woman stared at CJ across the top of her car. Her gaze narrowed. “CJ Patterson?”
CJ tried to place the woman’s face. There was something vaguely familiar about her. Long brown hair, round face. Boxy frame, not exactly fat, just square. Medium height. “Yes. I’m CJ Patterson.”
She was just about to ask the woman’s name when the woman spoke up again. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
The fact that her expression had grown colder with the statement didn’t bode well for getting information.
“I’m sorry.” CJ shook her head. “I’m really bad with names.” That wasn’t generally the case, but the other woman didn’t have to know that.
As if the woman had decided the conversation wasn’t worth pursuing, she reached back into her Camry and withdrew a large shoulder bag and an armful of files. She bumped the car door closed with her hip.
“Like I said”—she sent CJ a pointed look—“the clinic is closed.” She tossed her head, sending her hair flying over her shoulder, and marched toward the clinic’s entrance.
Wait. There was something familiar about that move—the whole tossing-her-head thing, as if she’d just dismissed CJ. “Juanita.” CJ recognized her now. “Juanita Lusk.”
Key halfway to the door’s lock, the woman’s hand stilled. “I guess you’re better with names than you thought.” She shoved the key into the lock without a backward glance.
It was all coming back to CJ now. Juanita had been a junior when CJ was a freshman at Huntsville’s University of Alabama. Juanita had been in premed too.
Carter Cost.
Yeah, CJ remembered. He’d dumped Juanita for a brief fling with CJ. Her first and only mistake with men—until Braddock. Evidently Juanita still held a grudge.
CJ bolted into action, catching the door before it closed behind Juanita. She parked herself in the threshold and didn’t budge.
“I already told you,” Juanita snapped, “we’re closed.”
“I’ll only take a minute of your time. Please,” CJ urged, “it’s really important.”
An indifferent huff previewed the lack of compassion that claimed the other woman’s face. “Get out of the way and let me lock the door before the whole damned village shows up.”
CJ stepped around her and waited while she locked the door. Juanita didn’t switch on the lights, just turned and headed through the lobby. CJ stayed right on her heels.
The clinic looked exactly as it had when she was a kid. Same scuffed tile floors and worn-out waiting room seating. The TV and vintage VCR were new to the clinic but far from new. Beyond the lobby there appeared to have been a half-hearted facelift in the last decade. Still three exam rooms to the right, a toilet, lab/supply room, and office on the left. Straight back at the end of the corridor that divided the rear section of the clinic in half was an emergency exit, the one the staff generally used to come and go.
Inside the cramped office Juanita dumped the load of files on the already cluttered metal desk and plopped her bag on the floor. “What do you want?” She slumped unceremoniously into the chair behind the desk. “When I get finished here, I have catching up to do at the Downtown Free Clinic too.”
CJ didn’t sit. Mainly because the only other chair was stacked full of files. She could do this better standing, anyway. “My sister, Shelley, was a patient here. I’m sure you’ve heard that she was murdered over the weekend.”
Juanita’s indifferent expression didn’t alter in the slightest. “Yeah, I saw the two-liner buried in this morning’s paper.”
Anger unfurled in CJ’s belly. “You know, college was a long time ago and I’m really sorry you haven’t gotten past it, but my sister is dead and I really don’t give a shit if you didn’t get the guy.”
Juanita’s face softened just the tiniest bit. “The way I remember it, you didn’t either.”
CJ’s shoulders sagged as the fight drained out of her. “True.”
“Look, Patterson.” Juanita waved a hand around the tiny office. “I have a lot of work to do. I’m sorry as hell about your sister, but that’s the way it goes around here. What is it that you want from me?”
“She had an appointment with you next Friday.”
Juanita flipped through the dog-eared appointment book on the desk, stopped on the appropriate page, and scanned the names. “Yep. Two o’clock.” She grabbed a pen and scratched out Shelley’s name.
CJ flinched. Tears stung her eyes, but she wouldn’t let this grudge-carrying witch see it.
“According to the clinic form I found at the house,” CJ continued when Juanita didn’t offer any information, “Shelley was pregnant.”
“If that’s what the form says, then that’s the case.”
