Page 16 of The Witness

Something about Katie thinking this was a good thing had made me remember just how bad my situation really was.

“Mom next, I guess.” I gave a weak smile to Michael, who had turned his attention to tidying up around the coffeemaker.

“Just keep it simple. Tell her you’re safe and that the Smith Agency will work with her senior living community to get her some extra security until this all passes. Make it sound like a big misunderstanding.” He turned back to a stubborn water spot on the coffeemaker’s chrome.

He obviously didn’t know my mom if he thought a misunderstanding would satisfy her. I steeled myself for what was to come and dialed. My mother was like a force of nature when she wanted to be.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Sabrina! Oh, thank God. The FBI was here, on a Sunday, looking for you. I don’t understand.” She’d gone from excited I was alive to hysterical in six words or less.

“It’s a long story, Mom. But I’m okay.” I tried to keep my voice even, but damn if her anxiety wasn’t contagious.

“No, you’re not okay. The FBI is looking for you. They don’t look for people unless something is very wrong. And Esther fromthe fourth floor called. She said your picture was on the news.” Mom had started hyperventilating.

“Mom, please calm down,” I pleaded. Her blood pressure was likely skyrocketing, and that might trigger one of her fainting episodes. God, this was a bad fucking idea. I shouldn’t have agreed to do this, especially not over the phone. I should have kept her out of this, but it was too late now.

Michael’s hand rested on my shoulder just like it had last night when I’d talked with the Smiths. He squeezed, and I took a slow breath in and out, trying to keep it together. What I really wanted to do was to curl up in his arms until this was sorted out. Mom. Sandoval. All of it. Let his broad shoulders carry the weight of my burden.

“I can’t, I just can’t. Those FBI men said you were in trouble. They had guns.” She nearly sobbed the word guns, which set off the damned parrot.

In the background, Captain Morgan squawked. “Put em’ up! Put em’ up.”

“Mom, are you sitting down? Please sit down. Are you lightheaded at all?” I sure as shit felt lightheaded and nauseous. The last time she fell, she’d ended up in the ER getting her hip x-rayed.

“Of course, I’m woozy. There were FBI agents here asking about my daughter. And then the call with Esther. I can’t keep still. No way.”

“No how!” screeched the Captain, finishing one of his favorite phrases.

“What is going on, young lady?” It was her mom voice, the one reserved for the most serious of teenage infractions.

I envisioned her waving a hand in front of her face as she paced her apartment. She needed to sit down before she fell down. Another trip to the emergency room right now wouldn’t help the situation.

“Mom. Please sit, so I can explain.” I would beg. Rip out my hair, make her ten bowls of high cholesterol fettuccine Alfredo, but she needed to sit down.

She audibly huffed. “Fine, I’m sitting.”

“Thank you. I’m safe. But there’s been a big misunderstanding. And it would be best if you had some extra security. The Smith Agency—”

“Security. You aren’t safe at all, are you?”

“Mom, please.”

“No.” She was about to cry or pass out. Her voice had gone weak. Her shallow breathing filled the phone line with white noise. At any moment, I expected the phone to clatter to the floor when she fainted.

“Okay, you know what? You’re right. We will come get you.”

I looked at Michael, all the desperation I felt channeled in his direction. There was a second guest apartment next to the one I was staying in, so I knew there was room. And frankly, I didn’t care if this was a rational decision.

Smith wanted my help; well, I wanted my mom here where she’d be safe.

Michael winced and rubbed a hand over his beard before giving me one painfully slow nod. I could have hugged him.

“Stay in your apartment, pack a bag, and we will be there in an hour or two.” I mouthed a silent thank you to Michael, who dipped his head in reply.

Chapter 8

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