Her First Mistake by Carey Baldwin (books for 10th graders txt) 📕

worth interviewing Shoshanna. Could be nothing, or could be an important lead. Won’t know until I look into it. Does Celeste frequent a lot of clubs?”

“She has a lot friends, an active social life. Plenty of men interested in her, I think. But I’ve never gotten the impression she was wild. Not that I’m saying going to a strip club is wild, but it isn’t typical for Celeste. At least not that I’ve heard.”

“And what about you? What were you doing at Lacy’s?”

Why was he asking something she’d already explained? She was trying to help, and he was turning things around on her, like she’d done something wrong. Or maybe she was being paranoid, and he was simply doing his job, trying to tease out any inconsistencies in her story. “Like I said, I found the matches, and I went to the club to ask about Celeste. I was door-knocking. Just like I volunteered to do at the park. I want to help.”

“I can see that.”

“What?”

“That you really, really want to help. And quite frankly…” He leaned in close. He’d apparently already had his lunch, because she smelled garlic on his breath. “I’m wondering why this investigation is so important to you.”

She rubbed the back of her neck. “Celeste is my friend.”

“You just said you weren’t close.”

“We work together, and I like her very much. I admire her. Naturally, I want to help.”

He pinned her with his gaze, and she started to wriggle like a mounted insect coming back to life. Could he tell she’d not only admired Celeste, but envied her as well?

“I’m getting a strange vibe from you, Mia.”

“Maybe you should stop worrying about my vibe and focus on the facts so you can find Celeste.” If she could dig herself out of a shed with a tin can, she could stand up to Detective Samuels. Only Mia no longer felt like that version of herself—what happened to that brave little girl? Was she still there, inside her, somewhere?

“I’m all about the facts,” Samuels said, “but following my instincts, paying attention to the vibes people give off, has taken me a long way. And I’m getting the distinct impression you aren’t telling me everything.” He stretched his legs in front of him until his shoes nearly touched hers. “What are you hiding?”

His instincts unnerved her. If it would help, Mia would confess to taking Celeste’s keys—but it wouldn’t. On the contrary, he might waste precious time looking at her as a potential suspect. “I’m not hiding anything.”

She followed his gaze to her clenched fists. It would be easier to walk out now. Leave it at that, but there was another very important reason she’d come here today. “But I would like to ask you something for me. Nothing to do with Celeste.”

“I’m listening.”

She closed her eyes, and then opened them. “When I was six years old, my mother, Emily Thornton, went missing. We lived—I suppose ‘squatted’ would be a more accurate term—in an abandoned cabin within San Diego County. I don’t know if that falls under your jurisdiction, but if it doesn’t, surely you know people.” She paused, though not long enough to lose her nerve. “I’d like to see my mother’s case files. Can you help me with that?”

He pulled a hand over his face, as if to wipe away any clues to his reaction. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“Has your mother’s case been adjudicated?”

“It was never solved, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“No body was ever found? No one was convicted of any wrongdoing?”

“No. Which is why I’d like to see the files. I want to find out what happened to her. People don’t just disappear. Whether she’s living or-or… not living. She’s out there, somewhere, and I want to find her. I need to find her.”

“And you think there’s something in the records that might help you. I get it. But I have to say, first, it’s unlikely that you can solve a mystery the police couldn’t. And second, you’re not entitled to the files. If the case had been adjudicated, tried in court, all records would be available to the public and you could request access via FOIA.”

“What’s that?” she asked, her chest tightening with disappointment.

“The freedom of information act, but in your situation that doesn’t apply. Even if the case is not being actively investigated, it’s still out there, potentially prosecutable. You can’t get the records because someday it might be reopened.”

“Okay then, I’d like to get it reopened. How do I do that?”

“You can’t. Not without good reason. It’d be a waste of scarce resources.” He puffed out his lips. “I’ll tell you what, though.”

She held her breath, daring to hope Detective Samuels actually cared that a woman had gone missing and no one had ever bothered to search for her.

“I’ll ask around. See if I can get a look at the case files, and if I think there’s something viable in them, I’ll get back to you.”

“Thank you.” She was glad her voice sounded calm, and though she was grateful—incredibly grateful—she refused to gush like he was doing her a favor. Because it wasn’t a favor: finding her mother was the job of the police.

A job at which they’d failed miserably.

Besides, his appraising look made her wonder if he had some ulterior motive for agreeing so quickly. Perhaps he was interested in finding out more about her because he didn’t fully trust her.

“You’re welcome.” He angled his head. “Is there anything else? You look like you’re not quite done.”

Tell him about the note Isaiah found on your windshield.

That would be a mistake. No one except Aunt Misty had known she was dining at the Coopers’ home. And it was probably Aunt Misty who’d left that note—after all, she’d done worse things, like the time she’d deleted all the emails sent by Mia’s school friend because she’d thought he was a “dangerous boy”.

“That’s all, Detective, but if I think of anything else that could help you find Celeste, I promise I’ll be in touch.”

Eleven

Arms locked,