Where was she? Mia’s eyes flew open. Her panicked breathing echoed in her ears. Her heart was beating like a windup toy. She scrambled back until her shoulder blades were against the wall, her teeth bared, ready to fight.
Then she blinked, finally absorbing where she was. She wasn’t on the floor of the courtroom with a razor blade at her throat. She wasn’t fighting off Scott’s killer or saving Gabe from an armed intruder or trying to rescue Scott from the waves. She was in Brooke’s toddler bed. From the wall, stenciled images of bunnies and puppies smiled down at her. Brooke was still asleep, the deep sleep that only a small child was capable of, one undisturbed by Mia’s panic.
It was early in the morning, early enough that the sky outside Brooke’s window was still dark.
With a groan Mia got to her feet. Her back ached as if she had slept like a contortionist. The bathroom mirror revealed scattered bruises on her neck and torso, from both Bernard Young and the men who had tried to save her from him. A few were shaped like fingerprints, and one faint mark on her throat was the half-moon shape of a fingernail. Mia shivered as she thought of how close she had come to dying.
Last night Charlie had given her copies of the accident report and the external examination report, but she hadn’t looked at them yet. She didn’t have the emotional strength. Today Charlie planned to ask Puyallup County to reopen the investigation into Scott’s accident. And when the detectives came to talk to her, she would show them everything they had found. Even the photo of Betty. Even the diamond ring.
She stayed in the shower for a long time, trying to wash off the residue of her dreams, the memories of yesterday. Twenty-four hours ago she would have said she had known Scott, had known even his flaws. Now she wondered how much one person could ever know another.
Downstairs she put Brooke’s sheets in the wash. It was still early, so she didn’t need to get the kids up yet. Weekday mornings were usually a stressful blur. If she wasn’t careful, all her kids’ memories would be of her barking at them to get up, hurry up, clean up.
In this new reality Mia was always running late, catching up, taking shortcuts, forgetting something, making do. Juggling a half dozen cases, worrying about Gabe and Brooke, trying to put more or less healthy meals on the table, overseeing homework, doing laundry. Keeping to a budget while she slowly repaid the debts. Every night she fell into bed thinking of all the things she hadn’t accomplished during the day.
Now she checked the flour canister. The envelope she had put the ring box in was still buried in the bottom, a temporary hiding place until she could figure out what to do next.
For right now, she decided that next meant making pancakes.
Fifteen minutes later Gabe shambled into the kitchen, alternating yawns with sniffs of the air. “Pancakes? Is it somebody’s birthday?” Since she had gone back to work, breakfast meant cold cereal for the kids. Mia was lucky if she remembered to grab a granola bar to eat in the car.
“No. I just felt like making them.” She sprinkled chocolate chips over the batter she had just poured on the griddle.
Deftly avoiding a swat from her spatula, Gabe grabbed the top pancake off the finished stack. “I’m sorry I went inside yesterday after the alarm went off,” he said with a full mouth. “That was kind of stupid.”
It was a rare apology.
“We’re just lucky it all turned out okay. Next time, though—well, I hope there isn’t a next time—but if there is, and you feel like something’s not right, stop. And then talk to an adult about it. Me, Charlie, or at least one of the neighbors . . . even if you think you can handle it by yourself.”
“I wish Dad were still alive.” Gabe reached for another pancake, and this time she didn’t try to stop him.
“You and me both, buddy.” Although if Scott were to appear before her now, her first instinct would be to slap him. The second? That . . . she still wasn’t sure of.
Gabe cut his eyes sideways at her and then away. “What were you and Charlie really doing downstairs last night?”
Had he overheard them? Mia had to tread carefully. She didn’t want Gabe to know about Betty.
“There’s some stuff about your dad’s old business that I need to clear up.”
He nodded, but she wondered if he believed her.
“Can you get your sister up? I want to make sure she has enough time to eat.” Brooke was a dawdler.
“Sure.” He looked at the clock on the stove. “Maybe you can even eat with us today?”
Something squeezed her heart. How many fourteen-year-old boys would ask their mom that? And how many studies showed that a family sitting down to eat together was better for kids? These days Mia ate most of her meals on her feet as she tried to keep one step ahead of the chaos.
“I’d love to.”
Mia was one of the first people into work. When she opened the door to her office, she smelled the flower arrangement before she saw it. Surrounded by a cloud of pink cellophane, it sat in the middle of her small conference table. Pink roses and mini carnations provided the backdrop for showy stargazer lilies. Each pastel petal was outlined in white and dappled with red.
What was wrong with Mia that when she leaned over to sniff and saw the red dots, the first thought she had was of blood splatter?
She opened the card. It was signed by Judge Rivas, as well as everyone who had been working in the courtroom yesterday, including Rolf Dockins, Young’s defense attorney. They all wished her well, praised her for being a trouper, and complimented her on her strength. The lid on the box where she had put the experience threatened to pop off, but she pushed it back down. Someday she would have time to process what had happened, but not now.
Knuckles rapped on her open door. She turned to see Frank.
“I heard about what happened yesterday, Mia. I wish you would have told me. Should you even be here today?” His brown eyes were filled with concern.
Still, she was sure that right above those eyes his brain was busy calculating what her taking off a day or two would do to the shopping cart case. Frank knew her home and cell phone numbers. If he had really wanted her to stay home, he would have called.
“I’m okay. Just a little banged up. It all happened so fast, I didn’t really have time to be scared.” She pushed her memories of screaming in terror, barely pausing to draw breath, out of her head and back into storage.
How was she going to have the energy to work today and then teach? Fake it until you make it, she told herself. She was an actress playing Mia. The Mia everyone needed her to be.