Page 124 of Cruel Abandon (Fallen Royals 5)
“So they sent you, then? To see if Sky knows anything.” I glare at him, the memory of the time he came to Theo’s house to interrogate Caleb fresh in my mind. “As I said, she’s sleeping.”
He shrugs. “That’s easily remedied.”
“She’s been through a lot,” I say through my teeth. “And when she wakes up, she can call the detectives actually involved in the case.”
“What do you both remember about her disappearance?” Masters asks us. “It was a traumatic situation for all involved. I imagine that hit rather close to home. Literally and figuratively.”
“It was a long time ago,” Mom says. “And you’re right: it was traumatic for everyone. She was gone far longer than necessary.”
Masters squints. “Necessary?”
She shrugs.
“Detective Masters,” Dad says, crossing the room. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
He shakes hands with Masters, and they both regard each other for a moment.
“How did they receive it?” Mom asks.
The detective’s smile is brittle. “Email.”
“Receive it?” Dad parrots.
“A ransom note for Skylar’s missing roommate,” Mom whispers.
Dad stiffens. “Ah. A shame, that.”
Mom clears her throat. “Kathy might be more receptive to talking with you about it, Detective. You know as well as I do that Sky won’t have anything helpful to add to their investigation.”
He dips his head. “Very well.”
I walk him to the door, watch him as he picks his way down the porch steps and across the yard. His car is parked in the center of the driveway, and he doesn’t try an ill-fated three-point-turn. I’ve seen too many of my parents’ friends try it and fail, especially in the winter. There’s nothing quite as funny as seeing someone stuck, their car perpendicular to the drive, with the sloping lawn on either side threatening to suck them away.
But he backs out, his headlights illuminating the porch, the front of the house, and me. He might wave, or lift a hand, or maybe he’s already preoccupied with that the hell he’s going to say to Skylar’s mother.
I return inside to Mom sweeping the shards of glass into a small pile, a trash bin by her side.
“I could’ve done that,” I protest.
Mom shakes her head. “Nonsense. It was my slippery fingers…”
“He freaked you out,” I observe.
She pauses, gaze on the floor, and finally nods. “It’s been a while. I thought we were past it.”
“Kathy is selling the house,” I say without preamble. “And I don’t…”
I, what? Sky isn’t there anymore. She’s not in that house, and I’m not here.
“Your relationship with that girl doesn’t depend on where her mom lives, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
I shrug, because she’s right. I am worried about that. I’m worried about a lot of things.
“She’s remembering,” I admit. “And I… I don’t want to hurt her.”
Mom reaches out and cups my cheek. “I don’t think you could, even if you wanted to.”
There it is again: the cold shame I’ve been suppressing. I have hurt her, have scared her. Wasn’t that my goal when I broke into her apartment? I wanted to scare some sense into her, make her rush home. She didn’t, though. She carried on as normal, and the people around her kept abandoning her.