Page 97 of Wicked Promises (Fallen Royals 3)

“Ms. Wolfe,” Detective Masters greets me.

I shake his hand. He makes me nervous, even though I’ve done nothing wrong. Maybe it’s the fact that he arrested Caleb without any real cause, then didn’t arrest Matt.

“Did you find anything from the car that hit Robert and me?” I ask.

His stare is criticizing. “No.”

“Even though the driver was the one who took me.”

“It was reported stolen, and there were no prints in the vehicle. No anything. Our forensic investigators went through it with a fine-tooth comb, and then we released it to the junkyard.”

I look away. “Stolen from whom?”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” the detective answers. “Your room was vandalized? Would you mind showing me?”

I take a deep breath and point to my door. “See for yourself.”

Robert wraps his arm around me. “We’d rather not…”

“Understandable, sir,” the detective says. He puts on a pair of gloves, then gingerly opens the door. He sucks in a breath. “That sure is something.”

We wait in the hall as he takes a closer look. Lenora chews on her lower lip, more stressed out than I’ve ever seen her.

“I locked the door every time I left,” she said. “I just don’t understand it. We have an alarm!”

The detective reappears. “What’s your alarm hooked up to?”

“The first-floor doors and windows,” she says. “We only set it when we’re gone. Maybe that’s foolish, but—”

“There’s some scuffing on the outer edge of the windowsill,” he interrupts. “The vandal probably went in and out the window. Is anything else missing?”

“I’ll check our room.” Lenora slips past us, down the hall.

I try not to panic. Caleb came in and out of there so many times… if the detective finds even his fingerprint out there, he’ll automatically assume it was him.

“Why would someone do this?” Robert asks. “Target Margo?”

Masters eyes me. “You piss anyone off?”

“Just a stalker,” I say, half-joking. And then I realize what I just admitted… I had told the detective about Unknown when I was in the hospital. But, according to him, they couldn’t do anything unless they knew who it was. The messages weren’t threatening enough to warrant the phone company to release the blocked number, either.

I never told Robert, though.

“Excuse me?”

I wince. “I’ve just been getting some… unsavory texts.” And phone calls. And I was kidnapped. And I’ve been feeling like I’m being watched all the time.

No big deal.

“What can we do about this?” Robert demands.

“Margo filed a complaint in the hospital,” Masters answers. “So it’s on record. But until something—”

“Please do not be about to say something worse,” Robert snaps. “And what does your office plan to do about this?”

“We’ll have a cruiser do some drive-bys for the next week, to make sure you all are safe.” Detective Masters glances at me. “Has anything else happened?”

I cross my arms over my chest. What would I admit to, a creepy-crawly feeling occasionally?

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