Page 146 of Cruel Abandon (Fallen Royals 5)

“It sounded serious,” I whisper. “Go help your friends.”

He frowns, then leans down and kisses the top of my head. I’m starting to enjoy those almost more than real kisses—but let’s be serious: almost.

I retake my seat, and Liam heads for the door. Detective Masters sits in Liam’s chair and leans back, folding his arms over his chest.

We stare at each other.

And I try, I try to pull him from my memories.

“How are you?” he finally asks.

“I’m fine.”

“Still seeing Dr. Penn?”

I lift my chin. “Wouldn’t that fall under doctor-patient confidentiality?”

He smiles. “Touché.”

I mimic his pose and cross my arms. “So, you investigated my case. Six years ago.”

He nods.

“What happened? I mean, to the investigation. Did it just run up dry?”

“I ran out of leads,” he says. “When the victim doesn’t remember anything… there wasn’t a trace of DNA found on you other than your own. You were discovered in the woods behind your house, but we couldn’t determine where you had come from.”

“Huh.”

He sighs. “But it has been bothering me recently, especially with the fact that Whitney’s parents were sent a ransom demand.”

“Because the person who took me did the same?”

“Right.”

“Detective Masters—”

“Jim, please.”

I dip my head. “Jim, er… I don’t see how I can help. I worked with Dr. Penn for years to try and get anything useful out of my brain, and short of hypnosis? It didn’t work. In fact, she said it could be dangerous to try and force it.”

He rubs his eyes. “I’m sorry, Skylar. It’s not my intention to cause harm. But if you want to remember, I brought some old case notes with me. I just wanted to give you the option.”

I try not to seem too interested.

Case notes could lead me in the right direction.

My dreams have been getting more pointed—well, except last night, where I didn’t sleep much at all. But the woods, and Liam, and… A sudden chill rushes through me. Liam’s at the center of this. He basically admitted it himself.

“Skylar?”

I shake my head slowly.

No, there’s no way a fourteen-year-old boy could kidnap a thirteen-year-old.

“How long was I gone?” I ask the detective.

He clears his throat. “Thirty-six days.”