Page 30 of Wicked Promises

Glass.

Metal.

Blood.

My torso is speckled with bruises, and one nasty one that stretches diagonally across my chest—the seat belt as it locked, preventing me from falling through the windshield.

The backs of my legs are the most cut up, thanks to being dragged across the glass-ridden asphalt.

This has been the week from Hell.

I shower, scrubbing my scalp and avoiding the stitches.

I find the scar on the back of my head, and I hesitate. I remember the stitches I had to get for it, but I don’t quite remember how it happened.

Falling backward, my head hitting the edge of…something.

A hand held mine in the hospital. The doctor didn’t even have to cut my hair to put stitches in. Or maybe it was staples?

With sudden clarity, it dawns on me that I lied to Caleb. I don’t have all my memories back. I don’t know how I got the scar or how I told Dad about Mom’s affair.

I don’t know how she reacted.

How the blood got on my door.

Dad has a story to tell. He insinuated as much, but we ran out of time too fast. Maybe he can jog my memory. Maybe he can justtell mewhat I’m missing.

I rinse and dry as fast as I can. My body is sore, but I ignore it. After I pull on the loosest-fitting outfit I brought, I go seek out Mr. Black.

He’s in his home office on the first floor, staring down at a file. It’s the only thing on his huge desk besides a computer monitor tilted at an angle.

I knock on the door, and his head jerks up. His gaze goes through me for a second, then he frowns. “Margo. You look a little pale. I expected you to be in bed.”

He gestures to the clock above the fireplace. It’s nearly ten.

“I didn’t realize the time,” I say as an apology. “I don’t have a phone.”

“Do you need to sit?”

I sink into the chair across from his desk. We sit in silence for a moment, and I try to think of the best way to word my question.

“I, um…”Yeah, this is going well.

Josh glances up, then slowly closes the file. “Why do I think you came in here for a purpose?”

“You’re defending Caleb, right? In case Detective Masters tries to arrest him again.”

“I am. I doubt Masters will do anything without solid evidence and a warrant.”

I chew on my lower lip for a minute. “We kind of got off topic when it came to Masters.”

He dips his head. “Right. Ben Asher was fearless in high school—but sometimes it made him cruel. Jim Masters didn’t look like he does now. Back then he was scrawny, and a rule follower…”

“A good target for a bully,” I murmur.

He nods.

“Ben has been gone for seven years, but some trauma doesn’t go away. I suppose that’s why, when Jim first saw your last name, then your relationship to Caleb, he doubled down. Like father, like son.”