Page 3 of Wicked Promises (Fallen Royals 3)

I fight back the growl. “What the fuck did I wish for?”

Pause. “For the foster parents to be… Removed from the situation.”

Mrs. Black walks into the kitchen. “Caleb, hang up the phone.”

Happily. I hit the end button and toss my phone onto my folded clothes.

Game face.

“The police are here,” she says to me in a low voice. “They wanted to talk to you… Who was on the phone? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I shake off the bad feeling. “No one important.”

She shrugs. “Come along, then. I’ve called Josh.”

Mr. Black is a defense lawyer. If she’s called him…

“Am I in trouble?”

Worry flits across her face, but it’s gone before I can latch on to it. “Have you done something we need to worry about? I can insist we wait—”

“I haven’t done anything.”

She nods, smoothing out my shirt. She’s been more my parent than my family ever was. Taking a deep breath, she turns and leads me into the living room.

“Caleb, this is Detective Masters.” She gestures for us to sit. “Since Caleb is still a minor…”

“Of course.” The detective is an older guy. Bald. He seems like he could eat nails for breakfast. “Caleb, I just have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

I lift one shoulder

“Have you been home all day?”

My eyebrow jumps. It isn’t every day the police come asking for an alibi. “Yep, Eli and I have been doing laundry and playing games.”

He clears his throat, glancing at a little notepad in his palm. “And when’s the last time you saw Margo Wolfe?”

My stomach twists. “Did something happen to her?”

He waits.

“I saw her this morning. She went home, and I stayed here.”

“And as far as you know, what were her plans today?”

I glance at Mrs. Black. “She had plans to see her father.”

“Her father, who happened to be in jail on murder charges—”

“He pled out to voluntary manslaughter, Detective,” Mrs. Black says in a low voice. “And this line of questioning seems rather extreme. Are you insinuating something happened to Margo?”

Detective Masters leans back, his eyebrow twitching.

Smug asshole.

“I’m not insinuating anything, Norah. Margo is missing.”

I bolt to my feet. “Missing?”

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