Page 103 of Wicked Promises

“Because you’re not really breathing. And you’re snapping.” He smiles reassuringly, but it doesn’t do much to calm the buzzing in my veins.

I force myself to take a deep breath. “Right. Okay, let’s go.”

We walk into the prison shoulder to shoulder, and he visibly shudders once we pass through the gates. I take his hand andsqueeze. It’s hard to believe Detective Masters wanted Caleb to end up somewhere like this.

The paperwork with the guard is faster this time, and after we hand over our IDs, we go to a corner of the room and sit.

“You’re not going to interrogate him, right?” My leg bounces.

“Interrogate him? No. I have some questions?—”

“Somenicequestions, since he doesn’t have to tell us anything?—”

“Relax,” he says, putting his hand on my knee.

I stop jigging.

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” he promises. “We just need to find out about Tobias…”

“Imagine telling him his lawyer was a filthy rotten?—”

A buzzing sound cuts me off.Here we go, I tell myself.

We stand with the few other people in the waiting room. Mid-week, it isn’t busy. The woman I met at the first visit isn’t here. Not that I expected her to be, but it would’ve been nice to see a friendly face.

Caleb walks a step behind me, letting me lead. Down the hall, to the door a guard is holding open. We pick a bigger table in the back corner, as far from the others as we can manage.

This time, we don’t have to wait long for another buzz, and then, “Inmates entering.”

Dad appears in the doorway. His head swings around until he finds us, and then he frowns.

For an instant, I wonder if he’ll turn around and go back to his cell without seeing us. Without talking to me.

But that fear dissipates when he moves toward us.

I rise, stepping past Caleb, and throw my arms around my dad. Dad’s arms come around me tightly, crushing me into him. One hand cups the back of my head, and I’m ashamed that the action reminds me of Robert.

“My girl,” he whispers in my ear. “I’m so glad you’re okay. God, I’ve never felt so helpless in my life.”

So they did tell him.

We separate, and Dad regards Caleb.

Dad extends his hand, an odd look on his face.

And Caleb… he’s white as a ghost.

I squint at him, but he seems like he’s in a trance. Finally, he blinks and reaches out, clasping Dad’s hand. The two stare at each other for a moment, the handshake suspended between them.

Maybe this is how Dad would’ve reacted to all of my boyfriends, if we had managed to stay a family long enough for me to get there. Maybe I never would’ve had a boyfriend—just Caleb.

That thought warms my cheeks, and I quickly push it away. No use pondering what might’ve been.

“You taking care of my daughter, Caleb?”

Caleb winces. “I’m trying to now, Mr. Wolfe.”

Dad releases his hand and barks out a laugh. “‘Mr. Wolfe?’” he repeats. “Jesus. You never called me that.”