Accidental Witness (Morelli Family 1)

“It’s been a rough week,” I point out. I could use a little comfort, and there’s really nowhere else to get any.

Sighing heavily, he yanks back the comforter and climbs on the bed. First he drapes the blanket over my body, like it can cover up what he just did, then he settles in behind me, pulling me into his arms. I lean into him, closing my eyes and wondering how the hell my life got turned upside down so completely in such a short stretch of time.

Chapter Twenty Six

Vince holds me for the rest of the night. I half expect someone to come summon at least one of us, but it never happens. I fall asleep sometime before the sun rises, but I’m still exhausted when I hear Vince’s alarm.

I wait for him to turn it off, but after a minute, I roll over and see he isn’t there. I reach over to turn the damn thing off myself, rubbing my temple as my head throbs. It’s going to be a long day.

Elise brings me breakfast, which she normally doesn’t, so I figure one of them must have told her to. I don’t ask which one. I don’t care.

I can’t feel anything again today. Maybe I’ll snap out of it once I wake up, but right now? Nope.

I don’t seek anyone out for a ride to school. There’s enough time to walk and I could use the fresh air.

I’m halfway to school when I hear the car behind me, slowing to a stop. No stop sign in sight, so my stomach sinks with dread, expecting to look over and see Mateo, or at the very least, Adrian.

When I look, however, there are two men I don’t recognize. My heartbeat skitters, wondering if these are Morelli flunkies, here to finish me off.

There are two men in the sleek white car, one in a black leather jacket and a complexion a shade or so darker than Cherie’s with a bushy black mustache and pudgy apple cheeks. The other man has ruddy cheeks and wears a black leather jacket, his gut hanging over a pair of extremely unfashionable blue jeans.

“Mia Mitchell?” Potbelly says.

I cut a look in their direction, clutching my phone in my pocket.

“Ma’am, are you Mia Mitchell?”

“No,” I reply.

Pressing his lips together, he says, “Ma’am, we know you are.”

“Then why ask?” I respond, picking up the pace.

The other man speaks up, “Miss Mitchell, we just need to ask you a few questions.”

I finally stop, stomach dropping as Potbelly holds up a badge for me to see. “Now, please.”

“Why?” I ask, even though I can guess.

“We have a few questions, ma’am, just a few questions. It’ll only take a few moments of your time.”

Swallowing, casting a gaze over my shoulder, I tell him, “I’ll be late to school.”

“Hop on in, we’ll give you a ride.”

My eyes widen in horror. “No! No, not… I can’t.”

“Let me make it easy for you, Miss Mitchell. You can get in the car with us now and answer a few questions, then be on your way to school, or we can take you down to the station for questioning instead. Whichever’s easiest for you.”

I remain on the sidewalk, my eyes searching the road behind me, making sure Mateo didn’t send anyone to follow me. Fear pierces the veil of numbness, ripping a hole down the middle and shedding it.

“I can’t talk to you. I don’t know anything.”

Throwing the car in park, Apple Cheeks waits while Potbelly opens the car door. “All right, down to the station it is.”

“No,” I say quickly, heart hammering. “No, I’ll get in the car.”

I look one last time before I open the back door and climb inside. Shifting my backpack in my lap, I try to calm my racing heart, afraid they’ll be able to see how nervous I am.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” I say.

“No, we didn’t think you did, Miss Mitchell. Thing is, it’s come to our attention you’ve been spending time with the Morelli family lately.”

“Is that a crime?” I ask.

Potbelly chooses his words carefully. “Well, no. But it might not surprise you to hear they’re being investigated for several cases of wrongdoing. We looked into you, Miss Mitchell, and it just happens that you live right next door to one of those investigations.”

Fear ties my stomach into knots, thinking of Vince. Thinking of the night of the fire, then the night he broke in to threaten me. God, what I’d give to go back to that being the scariest part of my day.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I tell them.

He reads off the address to the house next door to mine. “There’s nothing you could tell us about the fire that happened at that address?”

“It was tragic,” I say, unhelpfully. “I heard they were doing drugs or something.”