Accidental Witness (Morelli Family 1)

I feel Vince standing by my bedside, but I don’t remove my cover.

“You know what, if you wanna kill me, go ahead and do it now. At least then I’ll get some sleep.”

The bed sags and creaks and my eyes widen, but he can’t see. I feel him warm against my side, and then he’s tugging my blanket—and then he’s under it with me, turning his head in my direction.

“So, that was your mom, huh?”

“That was her.”

“Don’t like the boyfriend?” he surmises.

“It would be more normal if he dated me—and I get the feeling he’s had that thought a time or two. Cohabitation is not a good idea.”

“You need a new car,” he states.

“I need a new life,” I return.

“You might be in luck. I’ve never met a woman who got entangled with a Morelli and didn’t end up with a new life out of it, though I can’t say that’s always a good thing.”

That time I’m the one raising my eyebrows. “Are we entangled?”

“I have a feeling we’re gonna be.”

It’s quiet for about half a minute, then I say, “I’m not going to say anything to anyone. Honest. I have enough of my own problems; I don’t need to add a mob beef to the list.”

“I hope you’re telling the truth. Not just for my sake, but for yours,” he adds. “You should think of this like you’re covering your own ass just as much as mine.”

“I probably am,” I mutter. “If I would’ve made the call instead of cowering in my bedroom that night, they might still be alive.”

It must’ve been clear in the way I said it that it’s been weighing on my mind, because Vince considers it for a minute, but not with the cold, hard look he’d worn earlier. After a minute, his tone gentler than I expect, he says, “They wouldn’t. There’s nothing you could have done.”

I let it sink in for a second, but the relief I expected doesn’t come.

It’s probably verification that the guy lying in my bed right now is a murderer, but that doesn’t hit the way I expect it to, either.

“Now what?” I ask quietly.

“Well, looks like you’re gonna have to share the covers.”

Alarmed, my eyes widen. “What? You can’t stay!”

He’s already smiling, enjoying messing with me.

“Oh.” I blush.

Luckily it doesn’t take too long to figure out how we’ll sneak him out. My mother goes in to take a shower, and once the water turns on, we’re clear to creep down the hall.

I open the door to let him outside, but he hangs back, glancing down the hall we just came from. His gaze travels back to me, still unsure.

“You can trust me,” I tell him.

Nodding, holding my gaze he says, “I hope so.”

With that, he finally walks out.

—

“Can we get garlic bread?”

I look over at my little brother, taking a third sample cup from the little ‘try me’ stand in the grocery store bakery. “No. Allan, no more cake samples. You’re only supposed to take one.”

“I want cake,” my baby sister announces, reaching her hand out toward it. I roll my eyes as Allan grabs another one and hands it to her, flashing me an innocent look.

“It wasn’t for me,” he defends. “Why can’t we get garlic bread? Garlic bread is so good.”

“We are only here for a box of spaghetti and a jar of sauce. That is it.”

“Then why’d we get a cart?” he demands, not unreasonably.

“For Casey—she likes to ride.”

“No fair, I want to ride. Make her take turns.”

I pull the cart to a sudden halt and take a deep breath. “We are not fighting over who rides in the cart. We’re not. Can we please just go get the food for dinner so we can go home?”

“I don’t wanna go home,” Allan complains as he redirects toward the pasta aisle.

I start moving again as he meanders along, telling me how boring home is. I can’t really argue that point. Without cable, there are only so many options for television, and even I‘m sick of the same kid shows over and over. “Maybe you guys can play with your Legos,” I suggest. “Or color a picture to hang on the refrigerator. You’ve got stuff to do.”

“It’s all boring,” he informs me.

“Just grab the spaghetti,” I tell him, slowing to a stop in front of the wall of pasta boxes.

“Spaghetti, huh?”

My heart drops out my chest cavity as I recognize Vince’s voice, spinning around to find him standing right there in the aisle with me.

“Kid’s right,” he says, smirking at my discomfort. “That is kind of boring.”

My heart continues to skitter around my chest as I glance behind him, checking that he’s alone. He notices, and his smile wilts as he seems to consider it.

“Just me,” he says, less amused.

Like that makes much of a difference. I don’t say that though. Uncertainty rules me as I try to figure out how I’m supposed to react to him suddenly showing up wherever I am. That seems paranoid, but earlier in class, instead of giving the seat next to me back to its rightful owner, Vince sat there again.