Page 129 of Wicked Promises

She puts the picture back in the box, dropping it in the drawer. “Come on.”

I start to follow her, then freeze. “Riley! The boxes.”

Her eyes narrow. “What?”

I slip back into the closet, standing on my toes to reach the boxes on the top shelf. Riley is suddenly beside me, taking the one I hand her so I can grab the second.

We bring them out and set them on the carpet, ripping the lids off.

Sure enough…

A box of jewelry with the initials L.A. engraved in the velvet, a few different baubles, a…

“Is that a mermaid?”

I pick up the glass figure. It looks remarkably similar to the one Caleb found in my room. There’s another one made of porcelain, and a third…

“She collected them,” I say slowly. “And Claire must’ve just needed something to use.”

Riley grunts. “I always had a bad feeling about that girl. But this seems bigger than just her.”

“L.A.” I shake my head. “Lydia Asher?”

“Fucking weirdo.”

I nod my agreement, and we focus on the second box.

Against one of the sides is a black-and-gold hardcover book.

The yearbook.

I choke on my laugh. “Holy shit, we found it.”

“Great,” Riley says. “Now we need to get out of here before we’re discovered by a twelve-year-old.”

“Right.”

She puts the lid back on, but a notebook catches my eye. I stop her, removing it. I quickly take pictures of the box and then nod. We tuck everything into place, take a look around the room, and creep into the hallway.

The notebook and yearbook are under my arm. We make it almost all the way down the stairs before Riley hits a creaking step.

“Shit,” she whispers. “Go, go.”

We bolt.

Out the door—I close it as quietly as possible behind me—and off the porch. We cut across the grass, sprinting to her car.

“Fuck, fuck,” she yells.

“Riley, go,” I snap.

I dial Caleb’s number.

Straight to voicemail.

I call again, just to be sure.

“Wait, wait,” I say, just as we get to the end of the road.