The Mia Quinn Collection

by Lis Wiehl

  “That’s what they are, aren’t they? Boys. Kids. They’re definitely not adults. And Eli’s right. If I charge them as adults, their lives will be ruined. They’ll either get broken or hardened. Either way, past all repair.” She sighed. “Nothing’s ever clear, is it? Manny thinks it’s his fault, but he could be imagining it. And when we interviewed the boys, I went in thinking Jackson was the guilty one, but then it seemed like Dylan was the one who did it on purpose. And Jackson was the one who fell apart when he talked about what had happened.”

  “People cry for all kinds of reasons,” Charlie observed. “Including being sorry that they got caught.”

  “I’m not saying they don’t deserve to deal with the consequences of what they did. I’m just saying it’s not right to destroy them. I have until tomorrow morning to file. I think I’m going to run the clock out. That will give Raines less time to turn it to his advantage.” Not that that would really slow him down.

  “Nobody’s got too much sympathy for those two,” Charlie said. “Everywhere I go, people are talking about that video.”

  “I’d bet if we could trace back how that leaked to the media, we’d find Raines’s fingerprints all over it.”

  He shrugged. “It doesn’t make what it shows any less true.”

  “Do you think I’m making the wrong decision?” Mia asked. Once her mind was made up, it was rare for her to ask for someone else’s opinion. But Charlie had seen the same things she had, heard the same explanations and stories. The only thing he hadn’t experienced for himself was seeing just how shattered Tamsin was.

  “No,” he said slowly, “I don’t. But I might be in the minority.”

  “But we both know that a blurry black-and-white video doesn’t tell you what the kids were thinking when they did it. It doesn’t tell you if they meant to hurt someone or if the cart just slipped. I’d have to be absolutely certain it was the right thing to do to charge them as adults, and I’m not. It’s kind of like what’s happening with Scott. I feel like there are pieces we’re missing.”

  Charlie shifted in his seat. “Speaking of Scott, what’s next on that front?”

  “I’m going to call the IRS agent tomorrow, see if they really did close the investigation. And I’m going to try to figure out a way to talk to that dishwasher.”

  It was a little after eight when Mia showed her badge to the security guard at the courthouse. She took the elevator up to the office to grab files to refresh her memory for an upcoming court case. All of her time was being eaten up by the shopping cart case as well as trying to unravel the mystery of Scott’s murder, but she couldn’t neglect her other work.

  The offices were deserted, most of the space dark. As she walked past Judy’s desk, Mia heard a whirring. Judy’s personal fan was still on. She must have been in the middle of a hot flash when she left for the day and forgotten to turn it off. Mia felt around the base but couldn’t find the switch. She tugged on the cord where it disappeared under Judy’s desk, but the fan kept on spinning.

  Mia was down on her hands and knees, tracing the cord back to its plug, when she heard a voice. She started, hitting her head on the underside of the desk drawer. Her hair muffled the thump, and the footsteps didn’t pause.

  “I love you too, honey.”

  Just Frank talking to his wife. Mia found the place where the plug went into the socket.

  “What does Diann have to do with any of this?” Frank said. His voice sounded like he was only a few feet away.

  Diann was his wife. Which meant that whoever Frank was talking to was not. But it was someone he loved, or said he loved, two things that, for Frank, might not be quite the same thing.

  It sounded like Frank was having an affair.

  Now what? Should Mia just stay hidden and hope he didn’t see her? Pop out and pretend to have heard nothing?

  Meanwhile, her hand continued mindlessly on the task she had set it: pulling on the plug. At that moment it came free—just as her thumb slipped between the two prongs while they were still conducting electric current.

  The next thing Mia knew she was no longer under the desk, but sitting on the floor next to Judy’s chair. Her skirt was rucked up and tears were running down her face. It felt like someone had stuck a thousand needles in her thumb and then the pain had blasted through her whole body.

  “Mia!” Frank was leaning over her. How long had he been there? Feeling like a rag doll, she lifted her head.

  “What are you doing on the floor?”

  What was she doing on the floor? What had just happened? It felt so cataclysmic that it seemed like Frank should be shaking and crying too, but instead his face was screwed up with concern. Concern and confusion.

  “I, um, came up to get some files. Judy left her fan on. I couldn’t find the switch, so I was trying to unplug it. I think I might have gotten shocked.” Gingerly she touched the thumb with her fingers. There was no wound, but the ball seemed oddly smooth, as if it had melted. She straightened her skirt, then, using Judy’s desk and chair for balance, she pushed herself to her feet. Frank hovered over her, hands outstretched.

  “You certainly shocked me. I didn’t even know you were here, and the next minute you come flying back from under Judy’s desk, screaming.” If Frank was concerned about whether she had overheard him, his face didn’t show it. Instead, he said, “I’m a little worried about you, Mia. After all, somebody tried to kill you Monday. Maybe once this shopping cart case is put to bed, you should take some time off. You can’t just keep going like the Energizer bunny and not expect it to catch up with you.”

  “About the shopping cart case . . . ,” Mia began. She had to tell Frank, but at the same time she was reluctant to.

  “Yes? Have you decided?”

  “I’m going to call Tracy Lowe tonight and tell her I’m not going to be charging them as adults.” She would give Tracy all her notes, and then Tracy would file the charges. Tomorrow there would be a bond hearing to see if the two boys would remain in custody. If Mia were Tracy, she would argue for their being held. But she wasn’t Tracy, and in a few hours this wouldn’t be her case.

  Frank narrowed his eyes but kept quiet.

  “Look, Frank, I can’t justify charging them as adults. A few hours ago Charlie and I were finally able to interview Manny Flores. He says it’s his fault the cart tipped over. That he was trying to grab it from them, and instead he made them lose their grip.”

  “And you believed him? Maybe he was just trying to cover for his friends. Friends with criminal records.”

  “Jackson has a criminal record, but it’s not particularly violent. And Dylan is borderline crazy. Frank, I am telling you, it would not serve justice to try them as adults. I’m sorry. I even thought about charging them as adults in a preliminary complaint, then filing an amended complaint after the election is over.” She phrased it as if Frank hadn’t suggested that very move. “But I just can’t do it. You told me to make the best choice, and this is it. But I know Raines will rake you over the coals for it.”

  After a long moment he shrugged. “If that’s what you say should be done, then that’s what should be done. And Raines is going to rake me over the coals either way.”

  For a moment Mia wanted to hug him. Then she remembered his phone conversation and the impulse faded. “How are things going with the campaign?” she asked instead.

  “I’m not even sure I’m allowed to talk about it,” he said sarcastically. “Raines will complain that I’m abusing my office.” The line was thin and getting thinner the closer they got to the election. These days Frank was perpetually engaged in positive photo ops—visiting hospitals, attending civic events, speaking to Mothers Against Drunk Driving, making upbeat appearances on talk radio. Now when Frank gave a speech, was it as prosecuting attorney or as someone who wanted to be reelected? The answer, of course, was both.

  “I got the latest poll numbers two hours ago.” Frank blew air out of pursed lips. “We’re within a point of each other now.”
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  Which meant Raines was gaining. Had jumped at least a point in the last two days. Mia supposed it was even possible—although she couldn’t bring herself to ask Frank—that the two had switched places and Raines was now in the lead.

  If so, Mia might have just cost herself a job.

  CHAPTER 47

  From the shelter of a cedar whose branches touched the ground, Vin watched Mia Quinn as she moved from room to room. He adjusted the focus on his binoculars until he could see every detail, down to the shadows under her eyes. She had a sheaf of mail in one hand. Her little girl, Brooke, was following her, chattering.

  Mia was a civilian. And according to his own rules, he never touched a target’s kids.

  The spouses could be more of a gray area. The wives—and occasionally, the husbands—maybe they had known a few things or had looked the other way. But still, they did not deserve to be punished for the mistakes of their spouses.

  Unless they became a problem.

  CHAPTER 48

  FRIDAY

  Mia was exhausted. Her dreams had been a jumble of images: The cart plummeting from the walkway. The white bandages circling Manny’s wrist. The anxious face of the dishwasher. The bits of broken glass and plastic marking the spot where Scott’s life had ended.

  Last night before she left the office she had called Tracy to let her know about her decision. This morning she found herself in no hurry to get into work. Maybe Frank was right. Maybe she should take some time off. She was tired of trying to figure things out, of running through a million possible permutations until the truth seemed as slippery as a silver bead of mercury.

  “Love you,” she said to Gabe as she dropped him off at school. He grunted in reply and jumped out of the car to greet his friends with a complicated series of fist bumps and backslaps. As she walked Brooke into preschool, Mia thought of Gabe’s friends, his choices, his opportunities. Where had Gabe said Eldon was staying again? With Danny?

  Gabe and Danny had been tight in grade school. Back in the day, Mia had had a nodding familiarity with Danny’s mom, Sandra. She had been to their house on a couple of occasions, although the last time was four or five years ago now. If she remembered right, it was a small brown house on a corner lot.

  Instead of turning onto the street that would take her to the freeway, Mia impulsively turned in the other direction. Toward Danny’s house. Maybe there was some way she could help Eldon’s mom. Loan her a bit of money, bring her something better to eat than chili or mac and cheese, find out what else she needed? By now Eldon would also be at school, so she wouldn’t embarrass the other woman by asking in front of her son.

  The house was as she had remembered it, a tiny two-bedroom bungalow that had probably been built right after World War I. Mia pulled into the driveway and parked by an old Honda that sagged on its wheels. The single-car garage was closed. After a moment, she knocked on the metal door. It made a hollow sound.

  She was ready to knock again when a woman’s voice said hesitantly, “Mrs. Conroy isn’t home.”

  “I’m actually looking for Eldon’s mom.”

  “Oh.” She sounded even more wary. “Come around to the side door.”

  Mia navigated the narrow strip between the garage and the neighbor’s fence, her heels sinking into the wet grass.

  The door opened to reveal a woman who had once been built on the same scale as Eldon. Now her creamy brown skin looked like a deflated balloon. Her head was wrapped in a scarf, and she was dressed in layers of sweaters.

  “Hey, I’m sorry to bother you, but are you Eldon’s mom?” she said. “I’m Gabe’s mom. Mia.”

  “Oh! Um, come in.” The other woman stepped back.

  Inside the garage, it felt just as cold and damp as it did outside. The walls were hung with weed trimmers, rakes, and shovels, the corners taken up by recycling bins and plastic storage containers. To this mix had been added a swaybacked cot covered with a sleeping bag and old blankets, a beanbag chair with more blankets (some of which Mia recognized), and cardboard boxes piled nearly to the ceiling. A card table held a couple of pots and a hot plate. Under it sat a box half filled with boxes and cans of food. The hot plate and a small portable heater were both on long orange extension cords that snaked back through the garage and threaded through a door that was barely ajar to the house.

  The other woman broke the awkward silence. “I’m Kali. It’s so good to finally meet you. I can’t thank you enough for all the things you’ve given us.”

  “Um, you’re welcome.” Mia’s voice betrayed her, going up on the end like a question mark.

  The other woman’s face changed. “You didn’t know anything about it, did you?”

  “Not until two nights ago.” Mia laid a hand on Kali’s arm. “But don’t worry. If I had known, I would have given everything Gabe brought you and more.”

  Kali bit her lip. “I feel terrible. I didn’t mean to encourage your son to take things from you. I want to pay you back.”

  “For what? Some blankets we weren’t using, a few boxes of mac and cheese?” She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you would do the same for me if our positions were reversed.”

  “And I’m sure you’d feel just as awkward as I do right now,” the other woman said softly. “I’d offer you a place to sit down, but as you can see, there isn’t anyplace.” Her mouth twisted. “You’re probably wondering how we ended up like this.”

  “Gabe said you had cancer?”

  “Breast cancer. And I’m not tolerating the chemo very well, to put it mildly. I need to sleep all the time, and I can get pretty nauseated. I was working at Foodstuffs, but no one likes a cashier who’s throwing up, so they let me go.”

  Foodstuffs was an upscale grocery store that catered to people who liked organic vegetables and free-range chickens.

  “What?” Anger straightened Mia’s spine. It was disgusting to think that a store that trumpeted its fair-trade coffee did not treat its own workers fairly. “That’s not my area of legal expertise, but I’m pretty sure they can’t fire you for having cancer!”

  Kali shrugged. “They didn’t put it that way. They just said they didn’t see a place for me anymore.”

  “Look, I don’t know if Gabe’s told you, but I’m an attorney. I’d be happy to write you a letter pro bono—without any charge—insisting they make accommodations for your illness. Sometimes just a letter signed by a lawyer is enough to make people see the light.”

  Kali shook her head. “That’s okay. Right now my job is to fight this cancer, and that’s about the only job I can handle. Besides, by the time I left I had already run through all my sick leave. There are days I barely get out of bed. The other day I was eating breakfast and had to go lie back down again. I ended up falling asleep while I still had a piece of bagel in my mouth. It’s a wonder I didn’t choke to death.” She smiled ruefully. “I wish I could work, because I could use the money. Even though I’m hardly eating, the food stamps we’re getting aren’t enough. You know my son, you know how big he is.”

  Mia thought of Gabe, who routinely came back for thirds and fourths. Eldon was twice his size. “And with kids this age,” she said, “it’s like they can’t ever eat enough.” They shared a knowing smile, then Mia turned serious again. “Do you have any relatives who could help you?”

  Kali’s voice rose. “Do you think we would be living in a garage if I did?” She winced and pressed her fingers against her mouth. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t shout. But it’s horrible. We’re here on Sandra’s good graces, and I know she likes the money, but I also know it’s getting old for her. She can’t park her car in the garage and she’s got four people using her bathroom instead of just two. She keeps telling me she hopes I’ll have something figured out by Thanksgiving. I don’t say anything. What am I supposed to say?”

  Mia was surprised. “Wait—you’re paying to live here?”

  “Eldon’s dad pays some child support, so I’m giving Sandra three hundred a month.”
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  “To sleep in an unheated garage?”

  “What else can I do? A one-bedroom apartment in this neighborhood is at least twelve hundred. And it’s important to me that Eldon stay in the same school. It’s a good school. You know that. And he’s happy there. So much is changing for him, I don’t want that to have to change too.”

  Mia could only nod. Kali’s words echoed her thoughts after Scott died. It was why she was working so hard to hold on to the house, even though it was a stretch to make the mortgage every month. Sometimes she felt like she was walking on a tightrope. One slip and she would plummet to earth.

  And Kali had slipped.

  The words were out before Mia could think of whether it was a good idea. “What if I gave you the same deal to live with me? Only we actually have the room. There’s a guest room you could stay in and bunk beds in Gabe’s room.”

  Kali just looked at her for a long moment. “Why? Why would you do that for me?”

  The words came to her. “ ‘I was sick and you visited me, I was hungry and you fed me.’ ”

  “You’re a churchgoer?” The other woman narrowed her eyes warily.

  Mia had gone to church with her dad a few times lately, trying to find the same solace in it that he had so recently embraced. “Maybe not like I should be. But this feels like what I’m supposed to be doing.”

  CHAPTER 49

  What had she just done? Mia asked herself the question as she drove to work. Turned down to a murmur, the radio provided a backdrop to her anxious thoughts, with stories of bombings in Iraq, threats from North Korea, and a horrific pileup in Texas. How many times had she told Gabe he shouldn’t be so impulsive, told Brooke their family didn’t have time to care for a pet? Now she had recklessly committed herself to a woman she had just met, offered to upend her own life and her kids’ lives to help a stranger.

  And if this turned out to be a huge mistake, how would she undo it without making things worse? “Protect us, Lord,” she whispered. “Protect us all.”