Page 66 of Little Bitter Truths
“Who are you?”
“Name’s Whitlock.I’m a detective with the San Luis Obispo Police Department.And this, young man, is where your evening takes a bit of a turn.”
Jeremy’s jaw tightened.“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You impersonated someone, inserted yourself into an active investigation, and neglected to mention a few key details about who you are.That qualifies as a person of interest.And now the two of us … well, we’re about to have ourselves a little chat.”
Jeremy glanced at me, like he was beginning to put things together.
Whitlock continued, his tone still light, though serious.“Georgiana was kind enough to send me a text message to give me a heads-up about your situation.I thought I’d stop by, see what all the fuss was about for myself.”
“Georgiana and Mia know the truth,” Jeremy said.“Everything is out in the open now.”
“Good to know.In that case, I suppose you won’t have any trouble repeating it down at the station.”
Jeremy stared at Whitlock like he was trying to determine whether the request was optional.Whitlock’s expression made it clear it wasn’t.
“Let’s go,” Whitlock said.
For a moment, Jeremy looked like he might resist.Then he grabbed his wallet and his phone, and he stepped outside.Whitlock fell into step beside him.I remained in the room for a bit longer, listening to the fading sound of their footsteps, thinking about Mia, what she must be going through, and the fact the case had just taken another sharp turn.
27
Mia had run, and I hadn’t gone after her.
At the time, it had felt like the right decision.After learning the truth about Jeremy, she needed space, distance from everything that had just come crashing down around her.But now, as I drove home, the decision not to follow her felt like a mistake.
I pulled into a gas station, and while I filled the tank, I reached for my phone, giving her a call.She didn’t answer.
Given everything that had happened between the break-in, the near attack, Jeremy’s betrayal, and the realization that the killer had been targeting her all along, the idea of Mia being alone right now nagged at me.Even with a patrol car stationed outside her house.
I sent Giovanni a quick text message to let him know I’d be a bit late, and then I headed to Mia’s house.Several minutes later, I turned onto her street, slowing down as her house came into view.I pulled up to the curb and stepped out of the car, the cool evening air brushing against my skin as I made my way to her front door.
I knocked.
There was no answer.
I knocked again, louder this time.
“Mia,” I said.“It’s Georgiana.Can we talk?”
Still nothing.
I stepped back, noting the light I’d seen when I arrived was coming from the kitchen.
And that’s when I saw her.Mia’s back was half-turned toward me.She had one hand wrapped around the neck of a wine bottle and the other resting on the counter, like she needed the support to stay upright.
I moved closer to the side window, tapped on the glass, and she turned.I smiled and raised a hand.Her expression was one of annoyance maybe, or exhaustion.It was hard to tell.
She lifted her hand and gave a small dismissive wave, as if to say, “Go away.”
“I’m not leaving,” I said through the glass.“Not until we talk.”
“Suit yourself.”
She left the room, leaving me standing outside, questioning whether staying was the right thing to do.Maybe I needed to give her space to process all that was piling up on her.
If she had close friends to lean on, I would have gone home.But I got the impression she didn’t, none close enough to step in when she needed support, at least.
