Page 171 of Wicked Promises (Fallen Royals 3)

“The judge has set a hearing for tomorrow,” Masters says gently. “Is there anything else you want to talk about?”

I lean back in my chair. “Actually, yes. You were never able to pin anything on Matt Bonner, right?”

He leans forward in his chair. “Claire was his alibi, as I’m sure you’re aware by now. It means we’re going to reopen an investigation into him.”

“I have some evidence that may prove useful.” I pull out the mermaid figurine I had stolen from his house. It feels like weeks ago.

I place the cord that connects to his computer next to it.

“This disguised a camera that was planted in my room. I found it in his house. There are encrypted files on his hard drive, but I also emailed them to myself.” I tap it on the table. Her little tail makes a satisfying ticking noise. “You can check my email, see where it originated. Right?”

He motions for me to hand it to him, and I do. After inspecting it, he sets it carefully on the table. “I’m not going to ask why you were in his house or how you emailed yourself those files.”

I grimace. “Yeah, better not. I definitely didn’t break in and re-break his nose…”

“And if he comes in saying you did?”

“Self-defense?”

He opens the door for me. “I’d have to believe it. Oh, your mother is going into a rehabilitation facility in lieu of serving time. Her drug test came back positive for opiates.”

I shake my head.

Part of me wants to hate her for what she did.

An officer is escorting Lydia into the building as we come out of a side hall. I stop short, backing into the detective.

She doesn’t so much as look in my direction. I doubt she sees me, because she’s arguing with the officer. She’s handcuffed—another thing I never thought I’d see.

“Lydia,” someone calls.

I jerk to my left, where Mom has emerged from another interview room.

Mom’s gaze stays on Lydia, who scowls at her former friend. And then…

My mother’s attention skips to me, drawn like magnets.

“Do you want to speak with her?” Masters asks.

I sigh. “Yes and no.”

She heads in our direction, trailed by another officer. She seems weak, but better than any of the times she’s showed up outside my foster homes asking for money. And she seems more relaxed than she did in the middle of the diner.

She stops just out of my reach. “I’m so sorry, honey.”

“You put yourself over literally everything else.” I shrug, looking away. “I’ve had seven years to cope with you being a shitty mother.”

She winces, then recovers. “I’m willing to try and make things right. I’m going to get clean, and—”

“And nothing.” I shake my head. “I have a foster mom who loves me. I don’t need…” Whatever this is. You.

I glance at Detective Masters, then make a beeline for the exit. I know who’s waiting for me on the other side, and it spurs my movements faster.

Past the officer at the reception desk, down the hall. Out the doors into the sunshine. I pause for a fraction of a second as warmth sinks into my skin.

And then I smile at my foster parents and run into their arms.

“All set?” Robert asks into my hair.

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