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

trail—and Celeste’s “favorite thinking spot”, according to her Instagram. And it was hard for Mia not to notice the vulnerable look in his eyes. Her head told her to wrap it up, but part of her wanted to linger and get to know him more. “I agree. This is nice. What are you doing here, again?”

“Just chasing a memory, I guess. And, don’t laugh, but something happened today that I wanted to share with Celeste. She’s not here, but you are. Would you mind if I show you something personal?” Not giving her a chance to respond, he stuck his hand in his pocket.

Her throat tightened. She couldn’t outrun him, but she readied herself to punch him, knee him in the groin, and scream for help if necessary. How far away would those other hikers be by now?

While she held her breath, he worked a coin out of his pocket and held it up between two fingers, admiring it.

“Hold out your hand.”

She opened her palm.

“I apologize for my past behavior toward you.” He pressed the coin into her hand.

“What’s this about?” She frowned, completely mystified.

“It’s about me starting over. That, my friend, is a twenty-four-hour chip.”

She smiled at him. “Good for you.”

“I’ve got an entire day of sobriety under my belt.” He took back the coin and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “To new beginnings?”

“New beginnings.” She could use a clean slate herself.

“Say cheese.” He raised his arm, leaned in close to her and smiled for a selfie.

Twenty-Three

Thursday

“Thanks for seeing me on short notice.” Since Mia was supposed to be spreading her wings and flying on her own, she’d hesitated to call, but Dr. Baquero had offered her booster sessions as needed.

“It’s not a problem. I told you, I’m here if you need me, and frankly I’ve been expecting your call. When I heard the news about your friend, your fellow teacher, I realized you must be facing a barrage of emotions. Celeste Cooper is the woman we discussed at your last session, isn’t she?”

Mia nodded.

“So tell me everything.”

Where to begin? The last time she’d sat on this couch seemed like a lifetime ago. “I’m more numb than anything. It’s hard to believe someone I know is missing, and with everything that’s happened, I’m having a hard time keeping my head on straight.”

“Everything that’s happened. It sounds like more than Celeste’s disappearance. Are there other things you need to discuss?”

That was Mia’s cue to launch into a disjointed, stream of consciousness account of the events of the past week, with special emphasis on the mysterious keys that landed on her desk, Paul Hudson, and her interview with Detective Samuels. When she’d finished, she spread her arms and collapsed against the couch like she’d just run the Secret Stairs of La Mesa. “So what should I do?”

Dr. Baquero frowned. “I’m not a lawyer. I can’t give legal advice.”

“I’m not asking you to. But you’ll have an opinion, and you’re the only person I trust with this information. No one else knows what I’ve told you about Celeste’s keys—or about Paul Hudson following me. Detective Samuels already thinks I’m a nutcase—sorry, I know you don’t like me using that term—but anyway, I’m afraid if I accuse Hudson of threatening me, it’ll only cement Samuels’ opinion. Especially if he already knows I took Celeste’s keys. Maybe he’s just holding on to that information, waiting to spring it on me at the worst possible moment.”

“You covered a lot of ground today. Remind me how the detective would know you took Celeste’s keys.”

“There are cameras in the restaurant where it happened. And the day I found those keys on my desk, Samuels got called away because of something to do with the restaurant security footage. Later, he let me know, in no uncertain terms, he thinks I’m a kook—and that’s his best-case scenario.”

“What do you think his worst case is?”

“That I had something to do with Celeste’s disappearance.”

Dr. Baquero leaned forward, holding Mia’s gaze. “Did you have something to do with it?”

The question knocked the wind out of her. When she tried to inhale, she couldn’t. Maybe if she exhaled, she could restart the breathing process. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on relaxing her chest until a long slow breath released, and then her lungs filled with air again.

She opened her eyes.

Dr. Baquero didn’t seem to have moved a muscle. Her back was arched, her mouth half-open like she’d been in a state of suspended animation while Mia had been fighting for air.

How much time had passed?

Did she still want Mia to answer the question?

“No. I had nothing to do with Celeste’s disappearance—not in the way you mean,” she managed belatedly. It was a shock to the system to think her psychiatrist, someone who knew her better than almost anyone, could suspect her. There was absolutely no way she could bring up the sleepwalking incident now. If she admitted to being on Celeste’s street the night she disappeared, her therapist might not believe she was innocent—and Mia couldn’t blame her considering she had no idea what had transpired that night.

Her hands felt clammy and cold.

Was it possible she did have something more to do with it?

Her chest expanded, and her fists uncurled.

Mia might have been jealous, she might have been hurt, but she’d never wanted anything bad to happen to Celeste. She’d been over that night again and again in her head, but she was still coming up empty, and she had to believe if she’d really done something to Celeste, she’d know it. Even if she couldn’t remember, deep in her heart, she’d feel it.

Dr. Baquero’s hunched shoulders dropped. “I’m sorry but I had to ask. Please understand I don’t think you’d lie to me, or that you’d intentionally harm your friend, but you do have gaps in your memory—not recently I know, but I need to be sure. You’re absolutely certain? Because a woman’s life may be at stake.”

“I understand your point, but the answer is yes; I’m certain.