Her First Mistake Carey Baldwin (ereader with dictionary TXT) 📖

How did he know? She’d parked her Jetta in the Coopers’ drive, and the reporters were supposed to stay off the private road—but what if one of them snuck up to the house? Might they have seen her aunt leaving the note? Would they be able to identify her? She cast a cautionary glance at Aunt Misty. “There’s nothing illegal about a note on someone’s car.”

“If the note contains a threat, then yes, it’s illegal.”

“So you already know what’s in it?” If Mia had believed for a moment that her frustration with her aunt outweighed her desire to protect her, she’d been wrong.

Detective Samuels pulled out a plastic bag and a glove from his pocket. “I assume you didn’t throw away evidence.”

“Evidence?” He didn’t realize that the note probably wasn’t connected to Celeste’s case because he didn’t know her aunt like she did. He didn’t understand how deep Aunt Misty’s fears ran, what she was capable of doing to keep Mia “safe”.

“Yes, evidence. Where is it—the note?”

Beside her, Aunt Misty seemed to be shrinking in size. Mia longed to reach for her hand to reassure her, but she didn’t want to draw attention to her aunt’s discomfort, and Samuels had already implied Mia was concealing evidence.

It was one thing to keep quiet about the note until she could question Aunt Misty, however, now that the police were aware of its existence, she couldn’t pretend she’d gotten rid of it. Especially because there was a possibility her aunt hadn’t done it. If only she’d had a chance to get this sorted before the detective had turned up. “It’s in my room. I’ll get it.”

She hurried to retrieve the note. She’d hidden it inside the hope chest along with her other dirty little secret, and now Detective Samuels might burst through her bedroom door while the chest was open.

The thought sent her pulse skyrocketing.

As she dug around, Celeste’s keys gleamed at her, but this wasn’t the time or place for self-recriminations. She didn’t dare leave Detective Samuels alone with Aunt Misty for long. Continuing her search, she came upon the old photograph of herself as a child, and a deep sense of loss welled up inside her, not because of what she remembered, but because of what she didn’t. Fighting back a barrage of emotions she kept digging until, at last, she spied the note. In case there really were serial killer fingerprints to be had, she used her fingernails to lift it by the corner, and then slammed the lid of the chest.

Back in the living room, she held the note out for Samuels who took it in a gloved hand.

The frown lines on his forehead deepened, and then he read aloud, in an ominous tone:

“‘Stay away from the Coopers. I’m warning you.’ You didn’t feel threatened by this?”

“I was going to tell you.” She rested her chin atop steepled fingers. “I just wanted to think about it.”

“You wanted to find out if your aunt wrote it.”

“Yes. I wanted to speak to my aunt first.” Mia felt her jaw tighten. “Earlier today, you said you were getting ‘a vibe’ that I was holding back information, but apparently you already knew about the note. So now it feels like you’re the one not being straight with me. Where did you get your information?”

“I didn’t know at the time, and for the record, I don’t have to disclose my source to you. I’m the cop. But in the interest of mutual cooperation, I don’t mind telling you. About half an hour after you left the station, I got a call from Isaiah Cooper.”

Isaiah? She could understand why he might feel the need to inform the police, but she’d explained to him last night it was only her aunt, nothing to worry about, and he’d seemed to accept that. Though she hadn’t specifically asked him not to tell anyone, she thought it was understood. She barely knew him but, considering she’d kept his secrets, this felt like a betrayal.

“I can see you’re surprised, but I don’t know why. Isaiah thought, and rightly so, that this was a matter for the police. The threatening tone alone—‘I’m warning you’.” He wove a heavy thread of malice into his voice.

“That’s not a threat. There’s no negative consequence mentioned.”

“It’s implied.”

“Not really. It doesn’t say stay away from the Coopers or else. It could simply mean ‘I’m warning you’ in the same way you’d counsel a child not to dive into the shallow end of a pool. That would be the opposite of a threat. Instead of meaning harm, the intent would be to protect.”

“So who are you protecting?”

“You’re making too much of this. You have the note. I’ve said I thought Aunt Misty might’ve written it, and if she did, it’s not relevant to the case. She meant no harm, and that’s that.”

“I’ll be the judge of what’s relevant, and whether or not it’s illegal.”

“Are you saying I could be charged with some sort of crime?” Aunt Misty gripped the arm of the couch like it was coming in for a crash landing.

“That would be at my discretion, ma’am. Are you the author of this letter?”

“I’m not.” But the way Aunt Misty’s eyes were darting around made her look guilty—and she probably was.

The wheels in Mia’s head were spinning, but taking her nowhere. “If someone did threaten me—and I’m not saying I find this note threatening in any way—wouldn’t it be up to me to press charges?”

“Not your call,” Detective Samuels said flatly.

“I didn’t write it!” Aunt Misty found her voice again.

“Then you won’t mind printing out the words for me so I can compare your hand to that of the note.”

Could he really analyze a printed note the same way he could compare a longhand sample? “Aunt Misty, please. Just tell the truth. Because if you didn’t write this, then that means…”

Actually, she wasn’t sure what it would signify. Maybe it could’ve