Chapter Seven

 

Anna Witt can barely stay standing. He's furious. She can see it right there in her eyes. He's always angry when she doesn't do like she's supposed to. But he's always been good about shielding her from it.

Now, though, it seems like he's more upset than normal. And he has less reason to keep it from touching her. They're not dating anymore. She's nothing to him. A cold sort of fear grips her.

He turns back to Detective Meadows and for a minute, Anna almost feels like she's got the chance to breathe. Almost. It's just a matter of time until the attention is back on her, and then she's going to be in a lot of trouble.

The detective pulls out that recorder from earlier. He goes through the same spiel that he went through with her. Do you mind if I record you, sure. He presses the button in an obvious way and sets it on the table between them.

"Could you state your full name and occupation for the record?"

"I'm Mitchell Raymond Queen, and I work in an advisory capacity for my father's real estate firm."

"Like, they come to you and make sure you give them the oh-kay?"

"More or less, unless this is an interview about my role with the company that's close enough."

Anna's never seen anyone from the company come to him with a single thing. It's better than saying 'I dabble,' though, she supposes. Less embarrassing.

Every part of Mitch's life is overtaken by worry about how things are going to look. It's why he's so touchy. Who could blame him? He's got so much on his plate, after all.

Anna takes a breath and holds it a minute. Three, two, one. Calm down. She's alright.

"Alright, thanks. Your father is Albert Queen, the real-estate mogul, former Mayor, and currently running for congressional office, is that right?"

"That's about right, yes."

"Thank you. Just getting things on the record."

"Not a problem."

Mitch is used to dealing with this kind of thing. Reporters are always asking him questions. Sometimes he gives interviews, sometimes he refuses them. But they always ask these establishing questions, if he accepts.

"Just a few more questions. You know that woman?"

Mitchell doesn't look when Detective Meadows points at me.

"Yes."

"Can you tell me your relationship?"

"We were involved, until March seventeenth of this year."

"At which point, what caused your split, would you say?"

"Irreparable differences of opinion."

He says it flatly, without hesitation. Anna keeps herself quiet. Like a fly on the wall. She doesn't want to say anything. Doesn't want to be asked to do anything. If she could stop breathing, she'd do that, too. Invisible.

"So it wasn't related to her pregnancy?"

"No, sir."

"But you were the father, is that correct?"

"I can't confirm or deny. I've never had a paternity test with the child, so it's entirely possible that I may not be. I haven't disputed it up to this point."

"What can you tell me about Miss Witt's child, which may or may not be yours?"

"She was supposed to have it a few weeks ago."

"You don't know the sex of the child?"

"I haven't investigated the matter."

Anna's chest hurts. Why does she have to be here? Can't she just go home? Why did any of this have to happen? Why can't the world just leave her alone?

"So you wouldn't know that your daughter, Ava Witt, has gone missing as of some time between four and nine this morning?"

"Missing?" Mitch looks over his shoulder now, looks at Anna. She doesn't need to be told that he thinks it's her fault that Ava's missing. He always knew when she was slack, even when Anna herself didn't.

"Right now, we're keeping our options open. It appears to have been some sort of kidnapping."

"Kidnapping? Are you sure?"

Mitch looks back over at the detective, who nods. "Someone unlocked the door, which Miss Witt assured me was kept locked at all times."

"And you're sure she didn't just forget? She can be forgetful sometimes."

Anna starts speaking before she even really realizes what she's saying entirely. "I could have been mistaken. I don't know. I'm sorry."

The detective waves it away. "It's possible, but it stands to reason that the child didn't get out of the crib herself and crawl right out of the apartment, right?"

Mitch turns back to the other conversation, and the weight slips off Anna's chest. She takes a breath. One in, two out. Three in, four out.

"I have just a few more questions, if you don't mind."

"Not at all."

"Can you account for your whereabouts at that time?"

"It would usually be quite difficult, at a time like that, wouldn't it? I'd have been here, asleep."

"Were you?"

"I was not."

"Okay, then. Where were you?"

"I was staying with a friend," he says. "After six in the morning, I was staying with a friend. Until then, I was at one of my father's clubs."

"Until six in the morning? I only ask to confirm. I thought most places closed before that."

"They're lenient when you're the owner."

"I imagine they would be."

Nine in, ten out. Don't think about anything. Just focus on the breathing, focus on the silence in your mind. Eleven in, hold it, twelve out.

"Do you have any other questions?"

"This is, I presume, your first time hearing anything about any of these matters?"

"Yes."

"You don't seem that broken up about it."

"I can't afford to show every feeling I've got on my face, Detective. But secondly, I don't know whether I am or not, but I stopped being that child's father way back in March. We separated, I gave Miss Witt there a sizable amount of money with which to raise her child, and I washed my hands of it."

Anna's counting is disrupted by the thought that Detective Meadows looks angry. He's hiding it better than Josh did, but he's not hiding it perfectly by a long shot.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Queen. If you have any more information, here's my card."

Meadows pulls a little card out of his pocket and hands it over toward Queen. Mitch doesn't move to take it. The attorney reaches out a moment later and slides it into his book.

"You're very welcome, Detective. Any time."

Mitch slips his public-relations face back on, as if it never slipped off for an instant. Even extends his hand out and smiles.

"I can see myself out," he says. Anna notices that he doesn't take the handshake. Mitch isn't going to like that. It occurs to her, for what might be the first time, that it doesn't matter to her whether or not he likes what the detective does.

Meadows opens the door and steps out. Anna follows him. He's only been here once, but the route out from the study isn't so hard to figure out. Anywhere else, and she might have had to show him the way, which would have been awfully presumptuous. She would have had to do it anyways.

Anna slips herself into the car, puts on her seatbelt, and plants her hands firmly in her lap. "I'm sorry if I caused any trouble for you, Detective."

He closes his eyes for a long minute. No response. When Mitch does that, he's angry. It's hard to say for sure, but Anna gets the impression that the detective is angry, too.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"Don't be sorry," he says. His voice is straining to sound calm. She's used to listening for that. She's used to the sound of it. She's good at it.

"I didn't mean to upset you."

"Oh, don't worry about that. You didn't upset me at all."

He turns the key in the ignition and the car gets itself started. Anna knows better than to press her luck. Whatever is upsetting him, if she asks more than once or twice, it's going to go badly for her.

She'll find out when he wants her to find out, or she won't find out at all. Mitchell hated it when she pressed him on things, and there's no way she's going to forget those lessons.

That's how you end up in trouble, and she doesn't want to get in trouble again.