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

of us are,” she quoted Dr. Baquero. “It’s okay to make a mistake, as long as you recognize it and learn from it. And it’s no crime to have one too many once in a blue moon.” She’d seen it with Aunt Misty. Never touching a drop, and then binging on the anniversary of her mother’s disappearance. If getting bombed once a year helped her aunt cope, who was Mia to judge?

Angelica shook her head. “It’s not okay. I have to set a better example. Isaiah’s an alcoholic.”

“You’re not responsible for his sobriety.” That much she knew for sure. Dr. Baquero had hammered it into her head hard enough when she talked about her own mother.

“Maybe not, but my family has enough to handle without Isaiah going into a full relapse, and you can bet he’d use me as his excuse. He’d claim my drinking triggered his. He’d say it was my fault—and my mother would take his side like she always does, his and Celeste’s. Everyone’s but mine.” Angelica got up, stumbled a little on her way to the mantel for a tissue.

“I’m sure that’s not true.” How many drinks had Angelica had before Mia arrived?

“Oh, but it is. Celeste is her firstborn, Isaiah’s the baby, and don’t even get me started on the Haven girls. Do you have any idea what it’s like to take a back seat to a charity case?” She blew her nose. “No, I don’t suppose you do, since you seem to be Mother’s latest project—no offense.”

“None taken.” She tried to ignore the knot forming in her chest, tried to put herself in Angelica’s shoes. Angelica wasn’t in a good state of mind. She didn’t really mean the things she was saying—it was the liquor talking.

“Don’t repeat this. But, off the record, Isaiah’s a screw up. Celeste and my father have been round and round with him about his drinking for years.”

“Celeste had a problem with Isaiah?” Every brother and sister had conflicts. That didn’t mean…

“She read a lot of books about addiction, and she latched onto this concept called tough love. She was always pushing Dad to set stricter limits with Isaiah—for his own good. Then it got out of hand.”

Mia reached out to still her bouncing knee. “What do you mean?”

“Celeste wanted our father to cut Isaiah out of his will. I was against it, but I couldn’t talk her out of floating the idea with Dad.”

“That is harsh.”

“But it sort of worked. Isaiah checked himself into rehab at this luxury place in Arizona. And he’s been sober, or at least he had been sober, for months—until Celeste disappeared.” Angelica caught her eye. “Isaiah’s my brother, and I do love him, but if I’m being honest, I don’t always like him. He’s made a lot of bad decisions, and when he’s drunk, he can be a real shit.”

Mia could feel his hand clamped over her mouth, her feet dragging the ground as he hauled her into a back room at Lacy’s. Her hand climbed to her throat.

“Be careful around him—I’d hate for anything to happen to you.”

Nineteen

Tuesday

After a long afternoon with the kids at the preschool, Mia could’ve used a freshening up, but if she’d taken the time, she would’ve been late for her interview with Detective Samuels. Pushing a recalcitrant lock of hair behind her ears, she smiled at him.

No reciprocation.

The skin around Samuels’ eyes rested placidly, like a lake on a windless day, showing not a ripple of movement. But his calm visage didn’t set Mia at ease—quite the contrary. The very stillness of his expression, his ability to sit for long periods without moving a muscle, made her squirm in her chair.

She knew she couldn’t win the game she was playing with him. Eventually, he would get the truth out of her.

All he had to do was wait her out.

To keep her hands from shaking, she clasped them tightly in her lap. Her eyes stung from not blinking, but she’d be darned if she would be the first to break. Samuels tilted his head, and she sucked in a breath. Why was he looking at her like that?

Had he seen the security tapes from the Piano Man?

Did they show her making off with Celeste’s keys?

She cleared her throat.

He continued his torture by silence routine.

He was supposed to be interviewing her, yet it seemed she always had to get the ball rolling.

That clock behind her was damnably loud. “Is this room wired for sound?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Where’s the camera?”

“Doesn’t matter. Let’s get down to business.”

“Fine. Because I’ve got something to tell you.”

“More breaking news to report? Really, Mia, after yesterday, I’m on pins and needles.”

“You don’t seem like it.” She’d learned that when a person’s behavior doesn’t match his words, the best way to deal with it is to bring it out into the open. “Maybe you’re a good detective, but you make me uncomfortable. I came here to be helpful, and you’re putting me off with your manner. You said you wanted to interview me about the incident yesterday, but you haven’t asked me a single question.”

“Well, this isn’t a southern social. We’re not here to make small talk and sip mint juleps.”

“No. You’re supposed to take my statement, so how about doing that?”

“I’m listening. I have been all along, but if you’re looking for structure, you can start at the beginning of your day yesterday. What were you doing from the time you got up until the time you found those keys on your desk at school and called the police?”

She took a sip of water, nodded, and began. Fifteen minutes later, she folded her arms across her chest. “And that’s everything. I noticed Jane looking all pale, and when I looked where she was looking, I saw the keys. We both thought, at first, the keyring was Celeste’s, and we’d already told Pinkerman before I realized…”

He leaned forward. “Before you realized it wasn’t?”

“Yes.” There was that suspicious look again. She wanted the neutral expression back. “Alma came and