Page 3 of Wicked Promises

My stomach twists. Why is he asking about Margo?

“Did something happen to her?” I lean forward.

He waits.

“The last time I saw her was in front of her house this morning,” I reiterate.

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

I frown. “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,” Norah interrupts 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?”

He stands as well. “Her foster mother has reported her as such.”

“Why?”

He stares at me, then checks his notes again. “At approximately two p.m. this afternoon, Robert Bryan’s vehicle was struck. Reports from the prison showed that Margo Wolfe was listed on the visitor’s log. She, unlike her foster father, was not found in the vehicle.”

And they haven’t been able to find her.

“And you’re here? Questioning me when you should be—I don’t know, out there searching for?—”

“Caleb.” Norah puts her hand on my arm.

I jerk away from her. Margo ismissing—and has been since two o’clock? It’s nearly five now. That’s three hours. I suddenly can’t breathe around my fear. Images of someone dragging her out of a wrecked car fill my mind.

“This is bullshit,” I spit. “She wouldn’t just wander away. What you really mean is someone took her. Since you seem to be implying it was me, I’ll save you the trouble—it wasn’t.” I narrow my eyes at the detective. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Masters’ expression sharpens. “Has anyone been paying too much attention to Margo? Her foster mother was unable to confirm anything, but I suspect Margo would’ve been more open to talking with friends.”

Fucking Unknown. I’m no closer to figuring out who they are. And we’re notfriends—she’s something else entirely.

“You have quite the obsession with her, don’t you, Caleb?”

Norah makes a noise of protest. “They’re dating, Detective. Young love is intense.”

All mytrainingto keep calm is slowly going out the window. Lessons with my uncle have gone to shit. My temper is snapping—fast.

“I think it’s time for you to go,” Norah continues. “If you’d like to talk to Caleb further, you can go through my husband.”

The detective narrows his eyes—not at her, but at me.

“You can’t hide from this,” he tells me.

A chill sweeps down my spine.

I don’t have anything to hide. Not when it comes to Margo.