35
Camden
“Camden,” Monica said gently, “I know it’s a shock.”
A bomb had gone off.
My ears were deaf.
There was a ringing as I stared through the debris.
“Please say something,” she whispered.
“You’re not my mother,” was the only thing that I could get out.
She frowned. “I know this is hard to take in, and I’m sorry for that. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you so many times.”
“I don’t believe you.”
She looked hurt, but she still had that stubbornness about her. “About two years ago, you went to the police chief and asked him to help you find your mother,” she said. “That’s why you became friends in the first place. It’s why you came here with him.”
“No one else knows that,” I hissed.
“I know. You had to go to José directly—with blackmail against him, I might add—so tha
