Page 165 of Wicked Promises (Fallen Royals 3)

Josh shakes his head. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice this sooner, or even remember—”

“Caleb!”

They both jerk toward me.

“Your dad had to know that David was Hanna’s father, and that he was a monster. You…” My features soften. “You could’ve taken power back from your uncle all along.”

His face falls, and his gaze goes back to the will. At the bottom of the page is his dad’s signature, the looping B and spiked A.

He makes a call.

Josh and I trade a confused glance.

“Detective,” Caleb says.

My eyebrows hike up.

He’s willingly calling Detective Masters?

“I’ll do whatever has to be done.”

Ah, hell. I sink back onto the couch, dropping my head in my hands. Caleb’s slowly turning into the good guy, willing to do anything to set things right. Why does that make me think our troubles aren’t over?

38

Caleb

Detective Masters arrives in Josh’s office in under an hour, accompanied by a woman who he introduces as Detective Carver with the NYPD. She carries a small soft-shell case.

“Brought her in because this is a jurisdictional nightmare,” he tells us. “Claire started talking. She mentioned you had a notebook of hers?”

Margo blushes. “Yeah. It was Lydia’s, and then Claire started writing in it.”

He grunts. “Can I see it?”

She rises, pulling it out of her coat. He takes it carefully, flipping through it.

“We’ll get this back to you,” he tells her. “But I need to take this as evidence.”

“I don’t want it back,” she says faintly. “If it helps…”

He nods, then turns to me. “Ready?”

“Can I…?” I motion for the journal. “Maybe Mom wrote about Tobias.”

I skim through it. She had to have written about him.

Margo reads over my shoulder, and her hand shoots out. “There. T.H.”

“He’s still at work,” Carver says, reading something off her phone. “We should go now. Ready?”

On the phone with Masters, I did something a little stupid. I volunteered to go talk to Tobias while wearing a wire.

I don’t know how long it usually takes to obtain a warrant, but apparently there’s enough evidence for them all to want to move with haste.

Carver reveals the thin piece of cord and medical tape, motioning to me.

I take a deep breath and remove my shirt. They work quickly, taping the microphone to my chest. I carefully pull my shirt back on, and Carver disappears into the hallway, her phone pressed to her ear.

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