Innocent Mistakes

by Melissa F. Miller

“Pretty sure I should be charged as an adult, officer. Don’t let my size fool you.”

  That earns her a hearty chuckle before he pulls out and continues down the road. “Pretty sure you’re not the one being charged.”

  Lainey Fuller’s almost finished recanting her confession when she gets the notification. Without a lawyer, she panics and her story falls apart under the gentlest of pressures. Does she know there’s a livestream of the sunrise mass on the church website, complete with a time-stamp, and she’s front and center in the congregation at the time that Hunter Dalton was hit? Is she aware that her minivan has a GPS system that shows the vehicle was twenty-four miles away in Deerfield, parked behind a coffee shop when the hit and run occurred? Has she heard that Leigh Dalton’s been taken into custody for the same crime?

  It’s this last bit of news that shakes the truth free from Lainey’s lips. Leigh ‘Vote for Me’ Dalton ran over her own son? At first, the idea’s absurd, but after she rolls it around in her mind, it makes perfect sense. What’s more sympathetic than a candidate whose child’s been bullied? One whose child has been the victim of a senseless violent crime. Hunter’s lucky his mother didn’t shoot him.

  The wicked thought makes Lainey gasp at herself. She braces herself, expecting the officer who’s interviewing her to ask what’s wrong, but instead, he’s distracted by his cell phone.

  She bristles. Really? In the middle of what’s likely to be her only criminal interrogation, the interviewing officer is bored?

  Then he slides her cell phone across the metal table toward her. “Check this out.”

  She scans Emmaline’s purple prose, blanching at first when she sees the direct messages between Hunter and Mallory on full, public display. Then she sees the picture of Hunter with a pig’s snout and Siobhan’s harrowing description of what Hunter did to her, and she finally understands. Mallory knew what she was doing the whole time. She was avenging her friend and protecting all the other girls who might cross Hunter’s path. She and Colin weren’t planning to kill Hunter. They had a far deadlier fate in mind for the teenager: public humiliation.

  Tears of relief and pride prick at Lainey’s eyes. I’m sorry for misjudging you, baby. And for spying on you.

  She looks at the officer, and her gaze is urgent and expectant. “Can I get out of here soon? I need to talk to my daughter.”

  Hunter’s perched awkwardly on his desk, with his fractured ankle dangling over the side as he peers out his window to watch the spectacle on his front lawn. His mother is in the process of being arrested for something or other—theft of campaign funds, if he has to guess—and she’s pitching an unholy fit. He fumbles in his pocket for his phone. He’s gotta record the chaos.

  A notification bell rings as he pulls the phone out. The Tiger Tattler’s published a shocking new piece! He rolls his eyes. He’ll read Emmaline’s latest drivel later. But it does give him an idea. Maybe he’ll trade the footage of a wild-eyed school board candidate screaming at a local cop for some snaps of Emmaline. He holds the phone up to the window, aims it at his mother, and hits record. But suddenly, she stops mid-freakout to check her phone. Down on the sidewalk, his dad does the same. Even the cop turns his attention to his phone.

  What the heck?

  All three of the adults outside turn and stare up at his window. The hairs on the back of Hunter’s neck stand up and a bad feeling grips his stomach. He stops recording and pulls up the message from Emmaline. His finger hovers over the screen for an instant, then he clicks to open the link.

  42

  Monday morning

  Deep Creek Lake, Maryland

  * * *

  Leo’s supervising the decoration of the congratulatory cookies when Mocha runs to the front of the cottage, barking his head off. Fiona lifts her head and tilts an ear toward the road, her green eyes narrowed with concentration. In the moment, she looks so much like her mother that his breath catches in his chest.

  “What do you hear, Fee-Fee?” Finn asks, pausing in his quest to cover every square millimeter of a cookie with bright green frosting.

  She purses her lips, then shakes her head. “Nothing. Yet. But Mocha hears Mom’s car.”

  “You think?” Leo checks the time. She might be right.

  Fiona shrugs and turns her attention back to the glittery gold balls of sugar she’s lining her cookie with, creating concentric circles. “Mocha’s hearing is very sensitive, Dad.”

  A blob of frosting drips from the tip of the pastry bag and splats onto Fiona’s masterpiece. “Oh, noooooo … I’m sorry!”

  Fiona scoops the offending frosting off her cookie with a finger and sticks it in her mouth. “S’okay, Finny.”

  Crisis averted, Leo heads to the door to confirm whether the canine early detection system is right. Java jumps up on the nearest windowsill to see for himself. Sure enough, Sasha’s Volvo emerges from around the bend. Mocha thumps his tail double-time.

  “Good boy.” He pats his head, then calls toward the kitchen, “Mom’s here!”

  The twins squeal and abandon their confectionary pursuit. They race through the small cottage at top speed and slide to a stop beside him to wait for Sasha. He watches her hurry across the driveway, her overnight bag bumping against her knees. He’s inordinately pleased to see she’s wearing sneakers.

  After a loud reunion that involves many hugs and kisses and an awful lot of high-pitched squeals, they settle into the deep deck chairs with freshly brewed coffee and heavily frosted cookies and watch the twins play their version of beanbag toss on the strip of lawn between the deck and the lake.

  “So, Colin and Siobhan are in the clear?”

  She nods and contemplates the mountain of frosting on her cookie, then carefully rests the monstrosity on her plate uneaten. “Yes. And Mallory.”

  “What about the adults?”

  She blows out a breath. “Lainey Fuller is banned from the school campus. Leigh Dalton’s being charged with trespassing, destruction of property, and, of course, attempted murder.”

  “Yeesh. There goes her school board campaign.”

  “I hope so. But you know, the voting public loves a good redemption arc.”

  “Pretty sure that family’s not redeemable.”

  She laughs. “Who ever would have thought the dad would be the decent one?”

  He eyes her over his coffee mug. “Uncle Nathan might come through yet.”

  “What did you do?”

  He’s been waiting for a quiet moment to tell her. “Yesterday, Brianna dropped off some files for me—”

  “She’s home?”

  “Yeah, her school has an early spring break. Anyway, Hank sent her up with the documents, and she was more than happy to hang out with Finn and Fiona while I ran an errand.”

  “An errand, huh?”

  “I went to Belle Vernon. It’s about thirty minutes outside Pittsburgh. Merriweather lives there.”

  “Wait. How’d you get his address?”

  “Turnabout’s fair play. Anyway, we had a little chat. I think he’ll do the right thing about his nephew.”

  She tilts her head. “Tell me the truth, Connelly. Did you punch him?”

  He laughs. “Honestly, I really wanted to. It was hard not to. But I didn’t. I just gave him the chance to clean up the mess his sloppy operational security caused before I do it.”

  She leans back in her chair. “I’m proud of you. Look at the two of us, resolving a case without shooting, stabbing, or even punching anyone.”

  He raises his coffee mug. “To personal growth.”

  She reaches over and clinks hers against his. “To personal growth.”

  They turn back to the clear blue lake and their children scampering on the lawn and soak it all in for a long, peaceful moment.

  “So, you ready to have teenagers?” he asks after a while.

  “Absolutely not. Never. I will take little kids and little problems for the rest of eternity,” she tells him.

  “I don’t think it works th
at way.”

  “Shhh. I’m on vacation.” She abandons her chair and crawls into his lap, silencing him with a flurry of kisses.

  43

  Green Glen High School cafeteria

  Monday

  * * *

  Siobhan’s starting to get used to the constant barrage of attention as everyone stares and chatters when they walk by. It helps that she’s buffeted by Colin, Mallory, and, yes, Emmaline Clemson. They’ve staked out a table by the doors, and Emmaline’s jabbering on about the media requests that have been pouring into the Tattler.

  Colin and Mallory are sucking face, which, on the one hand is gross, but on the other is kind of sweet and cute. As much as watching their public make-out session ruins her appetite, she can’t pretend she’s not thrilled that they’re back together. Or, she corrects herself, still together—because apparently the breakup was fake. They did it to get back at Hunter for her.

  Now that everything’s out in the open, she can’t understand why she was so scared of him. She slides him a look across the cafeteria. She’s surprised he had the nerve to come to school the very next day after his mom was arrested and Emmaline’s article dropped. But knowing Hunter, he probably figures he can bluster his way through.

  Joke’s on him. Aside from some of his creepy Castle Rock acolytes, nobody’s talking to him. Even Roshi stops by Siobhan’s table and sits with them for a while just to make his loyalties clear. Before he leaves, he babbles something about not knowing why Hunter wanted help spoofing a call, claiming he thought it was just a prank. Mallory and Colin exchange a look and tell Roshi he needs to talk to Officer Hill ASAP and get out in front of it. He leaves in a hurry.

  If she were a better person, Siobhan thinks she’d feel some degree of pity for Hunter. But she’s not, so she doesn’t, and that’s okay by her. She turns her attention back to the table. Colin’s got his arm slung over Mallory’s shoulder.

  “So are you gonna come watch practice this afternoon?” he asks her.

  She glances at Siobhan. “Actually, Vonnie and I need to work on the fundraiser for the dance. But, we’re doing it at your house, so I’ll see you there after baseball practice.”

  “That’s cool.” He kisses her nose.

  Siobhan rolls her eyes at Emmaline. “Do you want to help out, too, Emmaline? Maybe the Tattler could be a sponsor.”

  Emmaline narrows her eyes. “Really?”

  “Really,” Mallory tells her. “Unless you have to get home to walk Miss Whiskers.”

  They all dissolve into laughter as Emmaline insists she doesn’t walk her cat—her mother does. Siobhan laughs so hard she cries. She’s wiping the tears from her eyes when Emmaline jabs a pointy elbow in her ribs.

  “Jeez, we were just kidding. It’ll be fun to work together.”

  “No—I mean, yes, good. But look.”

  The din of clanking silverware and conversation screeches to a halt like in a movie. Principal Dunbar, Officer Hill, and a guy in a suit stand in the doorway.

  “That’s Agent Merriweather,” Colin whispers.

  Siobhan’s heart ticks up. Is Hunter’s uncle coming to get Emmaline in trouble for printing that article? Or her or Colin and Mallory for what they said in it? The article’s all true, and she knows from Aunt Sasha that truth is a defense to defamation. But she still starts shaking as the three grim-faced adults step into the room.

  Colin reaches under the table and finds her hand. He grips it and gives her a steadying look. The grownups walk right past their table, making a beeline for Hunter. She turns her head to watch.

  Hunter spots his uncle, grins, and waves like the idiot he is. Siobhan can’t see Agent Merriweather’s face, but his back is stiff. They reach Hunter’s table, and Agent Merriweather helps him to his feet, then hands him his crutches. Principal Dunbar says something, then turns to Officer Hill, who unclasps the handcuffs from her belt. Her voice carries across the hushed lunch room.

  “Hunter Dalton, you’re under arrest. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you at no cost.”

  Hunter’s face is a mask of barely contained rage. Officer Hill steps forward, then hesitates, looking at the crutches and then the cuffs. Agent Merriweather holds out his hand. She places the handcuffs in his palm and he cuffs Hunter’s right hand to his own left hand, leaving Hunter’s left hand free to lean on the crutch. Principal Dunbar carries the other crutch, and the four of them begin a slow, hobbled walk across the silent room.

  When he passes their table, Hunter shoots them a furious dirty look. Colin shoots him the bird in response.

  “Mr. McCandless,” Principal Dunbar warns him. But Siobhan can hear his heart isn’t in it.

  Mallory waggles her fingers at Hunter, then she turns back to Siobhan and Emmaline. “So, three-thirty at Siobhan’s house?”

  “Sure,” Emmaline chirps as Hunter limps out into the hall with his law enforcement entourage.

  “Yeah,” Siobhan agrees.

  She’s already thinking about this afternoon. After they finish working on the fundraiser, she’s going to dust off her real Society account and login. Maybe Gurl Pwr15 will want to join her new collective.

  Thank You!

  Thanks for reading Innocent Mistakes! Sasha and Leo will be back in their next adventure soon, you can always find an up-to-date list of the titles in this series, as well as my other books, on my website: My Books

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  Keep reading. Check out the first book in one (or all) of my other three bestselling series for free, available here:

  Critical Vulnerability (Aroostine Higgins Thriller No. 1):

  Aroostine relies on her Native American traditions and her legal training to right wrongs and dispense justice. She’s charmingly relentless, always dots her i’s and crosses her t’s, and is an expert tracker.

  Dark Path (Bodhi King Forensic Thriller No. 1):

  Bodhi is a forensic pathologist and a practicing Buddhist who’s called upon to solve medical mysteries and unexplained deaths while adhering to his belief system. He’s thoughtful, unflinching, and always calm in an emergency.

  Rosemary’s Gravy (We Sisters Three Humorous Romantic Mystery No. 1):

  Rosemary, Sage, and Thyme are three twenty-something sisters searching for career success and love. Somehow, though, they keep finding murder and mayhem … and love.

  Author’s Note

  This book is one of the scarier ones I’ve written— for me, personally, as my own kids are leaving the world of little kid problems behind and vaulting into the world of big kid problems. My research let me into the dark technological corners of cyber bullying and cyber harassment, deep fakes, swatting, and catfishing.

  I also did a deep dive into the General Washington’s spy ring, the Culper Ring, and played some cooperative world-building games online (poorly, it must be said). I read some Department of Justice white papers on juvenile crime and, as always, dusted off my legal research skills to get the law as close to right as my abilities and the requirements of the story allowed.

  I usually include links to learn more for those readers who’ve been bitten by the research bug, as well (and there are lots of you!). But this book really was a research hodge-podge, so I don’t have a handful of resources to point you towar
d as I so often do.

  Until next time, take good care of yourselves and one another.

  Melissa

  August 2021

  Also by Melissa F. Miller

  I’ve written loads of books! Click any of the series titles below to see a complete list of books in that series.

  * * *

  Shenandoah Shadows Novella Series

  * * *

  The Sasha McCandless Legal Thriller Series

  * * *

  The Aroostine Higgins Novels

  * * *

  The Bodhi King Novels

  * * *

  The We Sisters Three Romantic Comedic Mysteries

  About the Author

  USA Today bestselling author Melissa F. Miller was born in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Although life and love led her to Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, D.C., and, ultimately, South Central Pennsylvania, she secretly still considers Pittsburgh home.

  In college, she majored in English literature with concentrations in creative writing poetry and medieval literature and was stunned, upon graduation, to learn that there’s not exactly a job market for such a degree. After working as an editor for several years, she returned to school to earn a law degree. She was that annoying girl who loved class and always raised her hand. She practiced law for fifteen years, including a stint as a clerk for a federal judge, nearly a decade as an attorney at major international law firms, and several years running a two-person law firm with her lawyer husband.

  Now, powered by coffee, she writes legal thrillers and homeschools her three children. When she’s not writing, and sometimes when she is, Melissa travels around the country in an RV with her husband, her kids, and her dog and cat.