The Only Witness by Pamela Beason Read Free Book Online

married. Virgins on Ice, everyone else called it. Brittany checked Micaela's left hand—yeah, that stupid silver promise ring was still there.
    While Micaela ran around being Miss Perfect Virgin, Brittany's growing belly proved that she was headed for the blistering tropics below instead of the cool fluff of heaven. Mrs. Taylor, who ran the program for unwed mothers, insisted on calling the program for pregnant girls by the ridiculous name of Sister-Mothers Trust, which Brittany and her friends quickly changed to Sluts on Toast before anyone else could come up with something more awful.
    And now here they sat, Slut on Toast next to Virgin on Ice. As opposite as hot fudge on ice cream. Ivy'd be the cherry on top. Brittany raised her hand and bit down on her knuckle. She'd bite off her finger before she'd cry in front of Micaela d'Allessandro.
    "I'm here for you, Britt." Micaela gave her a one-armed squeeze. "Whatever you want to tell me."
    Brittany shrugged off the arm around her shoulders and slid away. "How'd you get to be a cop so fast?"
    Micaela stiffened. "I'm a police tech right now. I work at the station and answer phones and log in evidence and do research. Next year, after I finish my associate degree, I'll go to the academy."
    "So I don't have to talk to you." Brittany looked at Finn when she said it, but his eyes were elsewhere. He was still studying everything, pacing in the small space. It was a teensy bedroom with all her and Ivy's furniture and there were way too many people in it right now.
    "Britt," her father hissed again from the doorway. "We need their help, don't we?" He held a piece of paper in his hand. A search warrant? On television, that was always the key to the kingdom. But there wasn't anything to find here; this wasn't the house they should be searching. Another house out there somewhere had her beautiful baby girl in it.
    Finn stopped in front of the bassinet next to her bed. "The baby slept here?"
    She could tell what he was thinking, that the white wicker basket was a shoebox, that maybe she didn't plan on her daughter ever getting to be a big girl. She lifted her chin. "Ivy's only two months old; it's not like she needs a lot of space. My friend Jenn is giving me her crib in a few months when she gets a regular bed for her little boy."
    Micaela scooted close again. "What happened with Ivy, Britt? Was Charlie involved?"
    Brittany rolled her eyes. "Of course Charlie was not involved. " Shit, that sounded lame. "He wants to be, of course, but he's at college," she said. Who the hell did Micaela—Miki—think she was, snooping into her personal life? "Why would you think Charlie had anything to do with this? God!"
    Micaela pursed her lips. "You shouldn't—"
    "—take the Lord's name in vain," Brittany said in perfect unison with her. Micaela might wear a uniform now, but she was obviously the same God-is-Great-and-So-Am-I bitch she'd been in high school.
    They locked eyes with each other. Over by the closet, Detective Finn nervously cleared his throat. Micaela shot a glance his way, and then she twitched and forced a fake smile onto her face. She stretched out a hand like she was thinking about placing it on Brittany's thigh, but left it hovering a few inches above as she said in a sickly sweet voice, "Have any of your little Sister-Mother friends ever talked about wanting to hurt their babies?"
    "I'm not a rat." It just came out.
    She didn't mean that they'd done anything. It was just that they'd made a pact to keep their bitching inside their group. What happens in Sluts stays in Sluts. Even Mrs. Taylor said that—except for the sluts part—because, like she said, all young moms need to be able to talk openly in the SMT class. Being discrete, Mrs. Taylor called it. Bottom line, it meant you didn't rat on the other girls. But judging by the way both Micaela and Detective Finn perked up like they smelled something good to eat, Brittany knew it was probably the worst thing she could have said