CHAPTER SEVEN
“Osana?” Asha Westbrook rose from where she sat on Gloria’s stairs when Osana entered the house.
Osana overlooked the thin, pale redhead with the pixie cut that heightened her delicate features.
Someone give this girl a candy bar before she withers into thin air.
Osana waved at her. “How are you?”
“Hi.” Asha waited for a man to pass then came downstairs. “You didn’t come to the funeral.”
“I couldn’t make it but wanted to pay my respects,” Osana said, but her main purpose was to find out information about Preston’s investigation.
Asha glanced toward the guests in the living room. “The funeral was beautiful.” Her hands shook.
“Something wrong? You seem nervous.”
“I hate funerals.” Asha provided a nervous chuckle. “I figured since I worked with Preston I had to show my
