Chapter Three

 

Anna Witt used to be someone. Sort of, anyways. She used to wear pretty dresses. Dresses that cost more than he parents' mortgage payments. She used to go out to parties where everyone in the state who was anyone would go.

And if she went to parties like that, then that meant that she was somebody, too. That was before she started showing, though. It was before Mitch decided that he didn't like having her around any more.

She smiles at the detective when he comes in. She hopes that it looks as convincing as her smiles used to, but without Mitchell around it's harder to be sure that her appearances are perfect. He wouldn't tell her if she needed to work on it any more, because he didn't want to see it.

"Are you feeling any better?" His low, gravelly voice is a little bit comforting and a little bit attractive and she likes it more than she's necessarily prepared to think about.

"I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be sorry. If you need a minute, don't be afraid to ask, okay?"

It's hard to say whether or not that's a meaningless platitude, or if he really means that she can take her time. It's not hard to imagine that she's a suspect. After all, it must be her fault.

Nobody would have taken her baby. Nobody would have wanted to. It doesn't make any sense in the first place. Who would? Mitchell didn't want anything to do with the child, and without Mitch, she wasn't anybody to anybody.

"Are you ready to answer a few more questions?"

She nods. "Yes."

"Okay." He clicks the record button and waits a second before continuing. "There was nothing else in the crib, or at the house, that you are aware of? No note, or anything?"

"No, sir."

"Nothing disturbed?"

"The lock was unlocked some time in the night."

"The last time you closed the door, what did you do?"

"I locked it. I, um. I checked it again, around midnight."

"And it was locked at that time?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright. How large is your apartment?"

"Um. One bedroom. I think it's around… six hundred square feet? Maybe?"

"Okay. What has the father's involvement in the baby been?"

"Mitch's involvement? He's—"

"Full name, please. Just for the recording."

"Um. The father is Mitchell Queen, the old Mayor's son? He's running for, uh. Congress, right now."

"The two of you were in a relationship?"

"Well, we were," Anna says. How much detail is she supposed to give? Nobody wants to hear her whole life story. "But not for the past six months."

"What events led up to your separation?"

Anna could feel the panic threatening to rise again. She could keep it under control, though. She just needed to try a little harder, keep herself under control a little bit better. She could do it, she knew.

"Um. Well, in December of last year, I got pregnant, and I found out about it in, um. In February. Early, early February."

"How did Mr. Queen react when you told him the good news?"

"He, um. Didn't react much. I guess. He asked what my plan was, and I said I wanted to keep it."

"No other reaction at all?"

"No, sir. Not that I could tell, anyways."

Detective Meadows hits the stop button on the recorder.

"Do you need a second?"

Anna's hovering between an eight and a nine anxiety level right now, but she can hold it together. All it will take is to keep doing her breathing, and…

"I can keep going, I think."

"If you need to stop for any reason, Miss Witt, don't hesitate to ask, okay? Anything at all." He moves his hand back over to the recorder and hits the red record button again. The digital numbers on the screen start to tick up. "So are the two of you still involved?"

"I didn't, uh. I guess he, um. He got a question about the baby, I think. And then he said, um. That he wasn't going to be involved with me any more, so. I moved back in with my parents. They, uh. Got me the apartment where I've been staying."

"Do they live nearby?"

"Across the hall."

Josh nods at that. Writes something down.

"Alright. Anything else you think that I should know? That's all I've got for right now."

"No, sir," Anna says. Her voice is low and quiet. It's harder to keep herself under control than she thought it would be, but she's going to manage it, if this is the end of it.

He clicks the stop button and slips the plastic recorder into his pocket.

"If you give me a minute to collect my jacket, I'd like to see your apartment if that's possible?"

Anna's head feels like it's going to split, and the sudden jolt of nerves shoots the panic out of her hands and out of her control. She can feel the tear start to slip down her cheek, and she can see the expression that might have been concern on Detective Meadows's face.

"Um. Yeah."

"I'm sorry, but it is important."

"I know, I'm just. A little nervous, is all."

"That's totally understandable. Hey. We're going to do everything we can to get to the bottom of this and get your daughter back, okay?"

It's always been hard to know that someone is telling Anna the truth. They say what they think she wants to hear. Everyone but Mitchell. He would say whatever he thought, no matter what.

But somehow, she finds it easy to believe the detective when he says it.

"Stay right here, I'll be back in a second. I'll follow you back to the apartment."

"Okay."

She sits at the table for a minute. She breathes in and counts to three before she lets it out. In again. Count to four. Out again.

Then she starts counting her breaths. Just focus on the counting and the breathing. One in. Two out. Three in. Four out.

She almost gets to ten before she breaks and lets a panicked thought about what she's going to do break her record.

She starts again. She's at fifteen when Detective Meadows opens the door. He's got a jacket on, now. Still warm enough outside not to wear a coat. The jacket fits well, but it's not as nice as Mitchell's jackets.

Still, somehow it fits him. Very official, very police-looking. It makes him look good.

"Are you ready to go, ma'am?"

Anna pushes herself up from the table, cringing at the sound of the chair's feet scraping across the floor. She should be more conscious of the noises she's making. It's important not to piss off Detective Meadows—he's the only one who can help her right now.

He doesn't look upset when she looks up, though, which is good. He holds the door open for her as she passes by him. As she passes, she smells the mildest scent of cologne on him, earthy and grounded and attractive in a man.

She follows him out at a respectful distance until they get to the door back into the lobby and he holds the door for her again. He stops just outside the door. "I'm going to go get my car and bring it around. I'll follow you, alright?"

Anna nods. She can do that. She'll just wait right by the end of the parking lot and wait for him to pull around. Easy. She takes a breath and holds it. Three, two, one, and release.

She's got everything under control. She can handle this. And as long as Detective Meadows is working on it, maybe everything's going to be alright.