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

All eyes turned to Pinkerman looming at the threshold.

Pinkerman’s arms jerked at her side as she strode into the lounge. “I’m not sure what’s going on in here, but whatever it is it’s over.”

“It’s just the book club,” Sue Ellen said quietly.

“It sounds more like the gossip club to me. How can you be so insensitive, Mia? I never, never would’ve believed it before today. But maybe it’s a good thing. Seeing this behavior from you makes what I have to say a lot easier.” She cleared her throat. “Everyone listen up. I’ve just had a phone call from Paul Hudson. He tells me that you, Mia, have made a number of false accusations against him because he rebuffed your advances.”

“No. No, that’s not true. I never—”

Pinkerman put up her hand in a stop sign. “Don’t interrupt. He also says there’s gossip going around the school, and I can hear for myself he’s right.” She shot a glare around the semi-circle. “I have no tolerance, zero tolerance, for this behavior. If I find any of you spreading rumors about the Hudsons, or anyone in the Cooper family, you have my word you’ll suffer the same consequence as her.” She pointed a stiff finger at Mia. “You’ve got an hour. And after that, you’re not permitted on school grounds again.”

Twenty-Six

Saturday

Mia finished washing up and stuck her hands beneath the hot-air dryer in the ladies’ room at the Piano Man, all the while studying her reflection. The makeupless, puffy-eyed image staring back at her would ordinarily have made her cringe, but today, at least in one respect, she found it satisfying—her red-rimmed gaze held not a trace of surrender.

Yesterday, unprepared to face her aunt with the news that she’d been fired, and taken off guard by the way the other teachers had turned on her, Mia had hidden out in her bedroom for the remainder of the day. Apparently sensing Mia’s deep distress, Aunt Misty had uncharacteristically let her be, allowing Mia the space she’d needed. She’d cried it out, and then eventually fallen into a dreamless sleep. Or, perhaps, a sleep whose dreams she’d chosen to forget. Then, this morning, after twelve-plus hours rest, she’d awakened clear-headed; defiant, energized, and determined not to let the creeps of this world, like Paul Hudson, defeat her.

And while she disagreed, vehemently, with Dr. Baquero’s reasoning that it would be best if Mia simply confessed to taking Celeste’s keys, she was tired of waiting around for the worst to happen. Whatever was going on with the restaurant security footage, Mia could ferret it out.

She rolled her shoulders back, exited the restroom and headed for the hostess stand.

There, she struck up a conversation about Celeste with a smartly uniformed young woman whose name tag identified her as “Heather”.

“I’m sorry about your friend, really sorry. And I was here the night she went missing. I probably talked to her. I probably took her back to her table. I feel awful I didn’t pay more attention—” Heather pursed her lips “—but Fridays get busy.”

“Thank you. But there was no way for any of us to predict something like this. If we’d known, I think we all would’ve done things differently.”

“I wish I could help. But I’ve told the police everything I know.” Heather dabbed the corner of her eye with a tissue she’d pulled from her pocket. “I apologize, but I’m afraid I don’t remember you either.”

That acted as balm to Mia’s soul. The young woman didn’t remember a thing about Mia. It was beginning to seem possible that her mean-spirited mistake might remain buried up at Torrey Pines forever.

It was Heather who’d been manning the hostess station the night Mia had bumped into Celeste and Jane. Mia was certain of it because Heather had a distinctive patch of white in her otherwise jet-black hair.

If Heather didn’t remember Mia, then she either hadn’t seen or hadn’t taken note of Mia snatching up Celeste’s keys. And Heather’s much bemoaned feeble memory provided a perfect segue into Mia’s next topic. “It’s good you have security cameras. Even if you don’t remember anything out of the ordinary, maybe the cops will find something when they check the CCTV.”

“I guess.” She shrugged. “I still feel bad.”

“You shouldn’t. But, um, do you know if the police have seen the CCTV footage? Has it been preserved?” She tried to make her voice sound casual, like the question had just occurred, instead of it being the reason she was here.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know if they’ve seen it, or don’t know if it’s been preserved?”

Now Heather’s eyes narrowed, her face taking on what Mia read as a hint of annoyance, possibly because they were no longer talking about Heather and her feelings. “Neither. I don’t know anything about the security cameras.”

The disappointment must’ve shown on Mia’s face because Heather’s expression rebounded into a sympathetic one. “But Keisha Sims will know. You can ask her.”

“You think she’ll talk to me?”

Heather scoffed. “She’ll talk to anybody who’ll listen. She’s going to tell you she’s the assistant manager, but she’s not. She’s just a hostess, same as me. But ever since Lanelle, that’s the real assistant manager, went on maternity leave, and they started letting Keisha make the schedule and do a few other things, she’s been on a power trip.”

“Who’s been on a power trip?” A petite blond, no older than Heather, approached.

“No one. If you wouldn’t eavesdrop you wouldn’t mishear,” Heather said.

“I wasn’t eavesdropping.” The woman’s face flushed. “And now that I’m assistant manager you can’t talk to me like that.”

Mia cleared her throat. “Are you Keisha? The assistant manager?”

“Guilty as charged. How may I help you?” Keisha switched to an exaggeratedly professional tone.

“Acting assistant manager,” Heather put in.

“I’m Mia Thornton.” Mia extended her hand. “A friend of Celeste Cooper and family, and I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time.”

“She wants to know if the cops got the security tapes,” Heather said.

Keisha