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

Hugging her body, Mia did a three-sixty, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

The black sedan inched by the alley’s entrance, signaled a turn onto another street, and relief washed over her.

Save for the dumpster, overflowing with refuse, there was nothing to speak of in this alley. No people, no trees, only the backs of buildings with grimy, peeling paint and smeared graffiti. The narrow passageway connected two trendy, well-trafficked streets, and there was a clear view of the entrance and exit. She could see why Celeste might cut through. For an alley, it seemed safe, and would no doubt shave a good half-mile off the route between Celeste’s house and the Piano Man.

But why had Celeste chosen to walk home in the first place when she could’ve simply called a Lyft, or better yet, accepted the ride Jane had offered? Mia estimated that Celeste’s Gaslamp adjacent home, even shortcutting through here, was around two miles from the Piano Man—perfect for a morning jog, but quite a trek in heels.

And something was bothering her about the whole “empty purse in the alley” scenario. It occurred to Mia, as she studied her surroundings, that Celeste hadn’t necessarily been through here. Mightn’t an assailant have attacked Celeste elsewhere and tossed the purse later?

A chill ran up her back, but she ignored it and kept moving, deciding to retrace the route leading to Celeste’s house.

How would Celeste have gotten in, if she’d made it home?

A spare key hidden under a stoop, maybe.

The hollow echo of Mia’s pumps on the pavement reassured her that if anyone approached from behind, she’d get plenty of notice. Keeping her eyes peeled, she finally emerged triumphantly onto the street.

Down the block, she spotted Celeste’s house and stopped short.

What did she hope to accomplish with all this?

What if the police were staking out the place?

It would look suspicious if someone recognized her lurking about. Then again, turning around would look worse. Deliberately, she lowered her shoulders and let her arms swing freely at her side. She even managed to whistle a tune.

Nothing wrong with walking down a public street.

And, if pressed, she could invent a reason for being here—though nothing came to mind right this second.

Except that all-night doughnut shop down the way.

The thought of their delicious, maple-iced long johns made her mouth water. She could legitimately pass by Celeste’s house on her way to Sugar Tooth, and Aunt Misty would love it if she brought home treats.

Now that she had her reason for being in the neighborhood, she felt comfortable enough to approach Celeste’s home.

At the window, a curtain moved, and Mia’s breath caught in her throat.

For a single, optimistic heartbeat, she thought it was Celeste.

But then she recognized Angelica’s white Mercedes parked on the street.

If Angelica had peeked out from behind that curtain, she’d likely have seen Mia—so better to be bold than try to hide.

She climbed the steps, all the while mentally rehearsing her speech: I was on my way to Sugar Tooth and I saw your car so I decided to take a chance you were here. Just wanted to say hello.

Mia lifted her fist, hesitated, then knocked loudly, as if she had nothing to hide.

Angelica opened the door, and Mia took a step back—coughing and choking on the smell of bleach.

Eighteen

“Can I get you anything? Coffee, water… a good stiff drink?” Angelica infused her tone with camaraderie, as if they shared a secret just between them.

“I’m all right.” Mia appreciated Angelica’s inclusiveness; though, if there was a secret, Angelica had yet to let her in on it. Eyeing the open, half-empty bottle of Chivas and the lone red solo cup on Celeste’s coffee table she added, “But don’t let me stop you.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Angelica lifted the cup, then chugged its contents with disquieting fervor.

To be fair, Mia didn’t know how full the cup had been, or if the Scotch had been diluted with soda, and in any event, be it early afternoon or no, Angelica had every right. Still, Mia didn’t think Angelica had her brother’s weakness for drink, and she couldn’t help wondering what was going on. When she’d dropped Alma off at her home this morning, Alma mentioned Angelica had gone into the office for an important meeting.

Yet here Angelica was, day drinking, in Celeste’s house—which currently reeked of bleach.

It was strange, but Mia was okay with strange.

In truth, she was grateful Angelica had opened the door to her. With Dr. Baquero no longer on speed dial, Mia needed someone to talk to, and though she couldn’t confide her troubles to Angelica, it was nice to pretend they were the kind of friends who could tell each other anything.

Gazing around, Mia mentally inserted herself into the room’s history, imagining that she’d helped Celeste pick out that modern, arched lamp and the Monet poster softening the room with its wonderful pastel colors; and that she and Angelica had often sat together on this suede sofa. Best of all, she imagined that, any minute, Celeste would burst through the front door, bearing a takeout pizza she’d purchased for their confab. Naturally, she’d have gotten their usual—deluxe vegetarian on a thin crust, extra cheese, hold the onions.

“Guess you’re wondering what I’m doing here.” Oblivious to Mia’s daydream, Angelica poured more Scotch into her cup and set it on a coaster.

Funny… she thought she owed Mia an explanation for being in her own sister’s house. Surely it was the other way around.

“I told Mother I was going to the office.” Angelica took another gulp. “You were with her earlier, so I wanted to mention that you shouldn’t say a word about this. It’s just between us.”

“What is?”

“That I’m here, not at the office. Promise you won’t tell.”

Mia sighed. There was certainly no shortage of secrets to keep. “If that’s what you want, I promise I won’t say a word. It’s none of my business anyway.”

“Oh, but it is. You’re entitled