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

been a reporter. But why would a journalist warn her to keep away from the family? Maybe it could’ve been the same person who took Celeste but that seemed far-fetched, paranoid. “Detective Samuels, have you considered that Isaiah Cooper might have planted this? I didn’t actually see it on my windshield. He was the one who said he found it, and then he showed it to me.”

“Why would he?”

“I don’t know, but we didn’t get off on the right foot.”

“Seems like a weak motive to me, but I’m happy to collect a sample of his handwriting for comparison as well. While we’re at it, in the spirit of inclusiveness, might as well get one from you, too.”

She felt blood rushing to her face. “That makes no sense.”

“I don’t mind looking foolish if it helps me solve a case.” He handed her a paper and pen.

Thirteen

Saturday

Strange how the sudden absence of sound can be just as startling as an alarm. Mia rubbed her arms until the feeling came back to them. Between rushing out the door after school all week to put up flyers, interviewing with Samuels and taking Alma to church, Mia had fallen behind, and thus found herself at the academy, late on a Saturday afternoon, slugging away on next week’s lesson plans. At some point, she’d put her head down for a moment, fallen dead asleep, and then suddenly awakened to an eerie silence.

Taking in her empty classroom, now shrouded in twilight, shadows transforming the walls into Rorschach cards, she shivered.

How long had she been out? She shouldn’t have put her head down, but it’d felt so heavy. She hadn’t been sleeping well lately, but she was glad she’d thrown away her old sleeping pills, because, as far as she knew, she hadn’t had another sleepwalking event since the night Celeste went missing.

Suddenly, a pang of anxiety stabbed her in the chest, but she soon dispelled it with a few deep breaths, along with some rational thinking. Yes, she’d awakened dressed the morning after, and her shoes had been damp, indicating she’d been outside at some point, and no, she wasn’t certain the gas gauge in her car hadn’t changed a tiny bit, and okay, she had been mad at Celeste for excluding her—but she had never physically harmed anyone in her life, and she never would. It wasn’t like she’d awakened covered in blood with a knife in her hand.

The accusing voice in her head whispering what if was nonsense.

Worse than nonsense—it was self-destructive. Her thoughts, like the room, were growing uncomfortably dark, and the cleaning crew would’ve gone home by now.

She was probably the only one left in the building. Time to pull it together and get out of here.

She checked her phone. Three missed calls, all from her aunt.

She clicked the ringer off vibrate, dumped it in her purse, and made her way to the door, then froze with her hand on the knob.

On the other side of the door, she sensed a presence.

Maybe a floorboard had creaked or maybe there’d been another, almost imperceptible, sound, but somehow, some way, she knew someone was out there.

Stay quiet.

Holding her breath, she eased her hand away from the door.

Then watched, pulse pounding in her ears, as the knob slowly turned on its own. The door creaked open and her hand went to her throat.

“Mia.”

“Baxter.” Her breath came out in a rush. “You scared me.”

“Sorry. I heard someone moving around in here, and I thought I’d check it out. What are you doing here on a Saturday evening?”

“Lesson plans.” For some reason, she was embarrassed to admit she’d fallen asleep at her desk. “What about you?”

“Pinkerman okayed it, and the janitor let me in.”

“He’s still here?”

“Luckily, yes. Alma wanted me to bring home the family photo Celeste keeps on her desk and that cardigan she always wears.”

Mia stared at him, noticing for the first time that he had Celeste’s favorite sweater draped over his arm and a framed photo in his hand.

She pictured Celeste grabbing her red cardigan, making a big show of putting it on and chattering her teeth every time Pinkerman fired up the air conditioning.

A complete waste of energy. Doesn’t she know this is San Diego? She’s going to freeze us to death!

The memory, braided together with Mia’s fatigue, left her drained; a hollowed out feeling started taking hold in her chest. It’d been more than a week. There had been speculation about a serial killer, but this seemed premature.

Baxter reached out and put his hand on her shoulder, and then, seemingly reading her mind, said, “I know, right? We’re not giving up. And frankly this wasn’t my idea. But her mother…”

Mia watched as Baxter’s eyes moistened, waited for him to collect himself.

“Her mother wants them. She’s says it will help her feel closer to Celeste. So here I am. I worry it will do more harm than good, but I’m doing all I can to keep Alma’s spirits up.” His voice was low and tense with emotion.

It was obvious how much he cared.

Mia nodded. “This must be so difficult for you both. I want you to know I’m thinking of your family every day.”

“Thank you,” he said. “Alma and I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

“I haven’t done much.” Not nearly enough.

“But you have—putting up all those flyers—more than five hundred is what I heard.” He offered his arm. “May I walk you to your car? It’s getting dark, and I’d like to make sure you get out of here safely.”

Her throat tightened.

Good fathers were plentiful. Loads of people had them, but what would it be like to have one of her own?

In the parking lot, she unlocked the car with her key fob, and as Baxter opened her door for her, impossible as it seemed, she felt a pang of envy toward Celeste.

Fourteen

Monday

Mia arrived at 8:15 a.m. at Harbor Youth Academy, a good forty-five minutes before her first class was scheduled. It was her habit to arrive half an hour early,