Page 7 of Smitty

“You have no idea.”

“That bad?”

“No. I’m just being whiny.”

“Girl, you can whine all you want. You deserve it after the week you’ve had.”

I laughed and took a sip of my coffee. I don’t know how she did it, but Gloria always made my worst days easier to stomach. I needed that, and I think she knew it. She was fifteen years older than me and had this uncanny ability to know everybody’s business, even if that meant stalking our social media accounts or peeping into our work files.

She didn’t mean any harm. She had three kids who were now grown and on their own. She didn’t feel as needed as she once was, so she took the role of office mother, and I, for one, didn’t mind. I actually liked that she was always there looking out for me, and she’d quickly become one of my favorite people in the building.

I sighed and eased back in my chair. “You’re officially the best.”

“Only because I brought you caffeine.”

“Much-needed caffeine. I’d say that’s a pretty solid reason.”

She sat in the chair next to my desk and smiled. “So…”

There it was.

Gloria had a way of turning the one-syllable word into an interrogation without even blinking. I took a cautious sip of coffee before answering, “She’s giving me a few more days.”

“Of course she is.” Gloria smiled as she teased, “She knows you’d just ride her ass until she changed her mind.”

“I most certainly would. He deserves that much.”

“You really like this kid, huh?”

“I care about all my kids.”

“You know what I mean.”

Unfortunately, I did. Some cases had a way of getting under your skin; they stayed with you long after work, and you couldn’t shake them, no matter how hard you tried. Dylan was like that for me. It didn’t help matters that he reminded me of someone I once knew. His story didn’t turn out so well, and I didn’t want the same for Dylan.

“I just don’t want to be wrong.”

“About what?”

“Any of it,” I admitted. “I don’t want to accuse someone of something they didn’t do, but at the same time, I don’t want to ignore something because I was afraid to push.”

“The fact that you worry like you do is why you’re so good at this.”

I stared down at my coffee as I told her, “It doesn’t feel that way… It feels like I am one bad decision away from ruining somebody’s life.”

“Well, now you have time to make sure you’re making the right one, and I’ll be here to help you any way I can.” She thought for a moment, then asked, “What about the neighbors? Have you had any luck with them?”

“You know how it is with neighborhoods like these. No one wants to get involved.”

“True, but all it would take is one person willing to talk.”

“This is true.”

“Worth a shot.” She stood and propped her hand on her hip. “Just promise that you won’t sit here staring at the same eight pages all afternoon.”

“I wouldn’t want to lie to you.”

“I don’t know why I bother.”