Page 99 of Wicked Promises

“Beacon,” I say, giving him the address.

He groans. “Or not.”

“I’ll buy breakfast.”

He perks up. “Sold!”

It takes us about thirty minutes to get there. Mom is standing out on the sidewalk when we pull up, and she tears the sunglasses off her face.

“Sunglasses at six o’clock in the morning?” Eli asks.

I just shake my head, hopping out. She launches herself at me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.

“Thank you, thank you,” she cries.

I take a deep breath… of whiskey.

I draw back sharply, holding her by her shoulders. It’s no wonder she was wearing sunglasses. Her eyes are red and puffy—from crying or a hangover, I can’t be sure which is the dominant cause—and her skin is dull.

“Mom?”

“What?” She wrinkles her nose. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because… are you drunk?”

She lets out a shrill laugh. “Goodness, no. Hungover, maybe.”

“Mrs. Asher,” Eli greets her. “How are you?”

Mom releases me and stumbles toward him. She pats his cheek. “You must be Josh’s son. You look quite a bit like him, I must say.”

“Right, er, thanks. Can we… help you?”

She straightens. “Yes! My home was broken into. This way.”

We follow her down the street, into an alley. Eli and I exchange a glance before stepping into it. Something about this screams…fishy.

She unlocks a metal grated door, then another one inset in the brick building. She’s surprisingly agile on the stairs, around the landing, and up another flight. Then she stops dead in her tracks.

“In there,” she says.

I glance between the door and her. “This is where you’ve been living? This whole time?”

“Goodness, no. Just temporary.”

“Is Margo’s mother in there?” Eli asks.

“No!” Mom shouts. “She’s at Lucky’s already.”

I push open the door. There’s broken glass across the floor, a shattered vase, flowers, and water. Picture frames that’ve been knocked off the wall, overturned furniture.

“Where were you both when this happened?” Eli asks, picking his way through the small room.

It seems strange that they might’ve been in here when it happened—unless whoever did it…

I turn toward Mom and grab her wrist.

She cries out.