Free Everywhere She Turns by Debra Webb

was tall and extremely fit for his age, and even the gray hair lent a distinguished quality to an undeniably attractive and wealthy gentleman. Any woman would be lucky to have Edward in her life.
    Maybe he’d been so busy taking care of the Patterson sisters he hadn’t taken time for himself. That burden settled heavilyonto her shoulders alongside the too-numerous others. CJ closed her eyes and cleared her mind.
    She didn’t need to try sorting any of this out tonight.
    Tomorrow would be soon enough.
    Grabbing her bag, she climbed the final step up onto the porch and hauled her weary body to the door. She dug in her bag for the key. Tomorrow she would go through the house to get an idea of where to start with the packing up. Maybe, if she was really lucky, she would find something that would give her some degree of insight into Shelley’s final days. To CJ’s knowledge, her sister hadn’t kept a journal, but there could be other clues: notes to herself, a calendar . . . something.
    CJ shoved the key into the lock and gave it a twist. She might even attempt to talk to Ricky one-on-one. Maybe he would open up to her if it was just the two of them. Alibi or not, she was nowhere near convinced of his innocence. Anything she could get out of him might help focus the investigation in the proper direction.
    Inside, the house was dark, stuffy. CJ closed the door and dropped her bag on the sofa. She reached for the light switch. A loud thwack followed by shattering glass stopped her cold.
    Lifting her gaze to the ceiling, she stared at the cracked plaster.
    For two beats she tried to convince herself she’d imagined the sound. Maybe a squirrel had gotten in somehow.
    The scuff of hard soles on bare wood jolted her out of denial.
    Fear rammed her heart against her sternum.
    Cell phone. Pepper spray. She probed in her bag for both, her gaze never leaving the staircase across the room.
    Her respiration echoed in the silence.
    Someone was up there . . . not her imagination.
    Another creak.
    She froze.
    Shelley’s bedroom.
    He was in Shelley’s room!
    Blind fury lashed through her, propelled her across the room and up the stairs.
    “Don’t you touch my sister’s things!”
    The words exploded in the air startling her with the realization that she’d voiced the thought.
    She hit the upstairs landing without slowing and lunged into the darkness of the hall toward her sister’s room.
    A body plowed into her.
    Knocked her backward.
    She hit the floor.
    The breath whooshed out of her lungs.
    The pepper spray slid across the floor. Her death grip on the phone was all that kept it in her hand.
    A foot came down right next to her head as the intruder scrambled over her.
    The boom of footsteps on the stairs catapulted her upright.
    She raced after him.
    Definitely a him. Big. Strong. Hard-muscled.
    Stumbling down the last two steps in her haste, she landed on all fours on the living room floor.
    The back door banged against the wall.
    He was getting away!
    She staggered up. Ran.
    She burst through the door he’d left open. Stumbled around in a circle, searching the darkness.
    Where the hell was he?
    Peering across the moonlit yard, she got a glimpse of a dark figure as he ducked into the alley.
    “Bastard,” she snapped. She fought to catch her breath. If she’d turned the upstairs light on, maybe she would have gotten a glimpse of his face.
    Dammit.
    Her body started to shake. She was cold. And it was hot as hell, sticky, muggy out here.
    The adrenaline was draining away.
    She took a deep breath, then another.
    Calm down
.
    It was over.
    He wouldn’t be back.
    The scumbag had likely heard about Shelley’s death anddecided to see if there was anything in the house worth taking.
    “Piece of shit.”
    Catching hold of the railing for support, she climbed the back steps and went inside. She’d see if anything was missing and what had gotten broken, then she would call the police.
    For all the good it would do.
    Turning on lights