Page 111 of The Two Last Moments

That was something that really happened. Iremembered it.

“Who are you?” I ask.

“You already know that, Lark. All the answers are in your head.” She finishes emptying the box, stowing the contents in her messenger bag. Then she crosses to my side of the garage again, grabs my chin, and tilts my head. “I taught you everything, and then you were ungrateful enough to forget it.”

“You’re not my mother. You’renot.”

Another image. A memory. I’m yelling those same words.You’re not my mother. Zander is holding my arms, keeping me from lunging at her. The woman with Starla’s face, though that’s not the name she used before. Zander shoves me into a closet and slams the door. I scream and bang on the wood.

I blink, and the garage is back. But it still feels like I’m in the middle of a nightmare.

Starla’s thumb caresses my chin. “Not technically your mother,” she says. “But I’m the closest thing you or Zander will ever have. We’re family. That’s why it breaks my heart that you’re so ungrateful.”

“This isn’t happening,” I whimper.

A cruel, closed-lip smile spreads her mouth wide. This is the real Starla. Not a kind, old-fashioned nurse, but a predator.

And the wall inside my mind—already cracking—gives way. The barrier collapses in wave after wave of memories. I’m drowning in them.

I remembereverything.

Foster care. New faces. It wasn’t that different from when my mom was alive, sadly, because she had to work so hard to take care of us. Her family had kicked her out, so she relied on neighbors and friends. After she was gone, even those familiar presences scattered.

Some of the foster families were kind. Others not so much. But one thing was the same. They never lasted.

Until Mother.

She had a nurturing quality to her, firm yet fair. Starla went by a different name back then, but to me and Zander, she was always Mother. We were a little family, her and my new foster brother and her boyfriend, who was a cop.

When I showed up, Zander had already been with her for a while. Mother took me under her wing. Teaching me, keeping me safe and warm and fed. More than I could say for some of my prior “families.” But only if I followed Mother’s rules. If I didn’t, if I talked back, I would get cuffed to furniture or stuffed in a closet to contemplate my actions. She made Zander do it. If I was really bad, refusing to go out with my brother in search of wallets or cash to steal, then worse would happen. Like Zander would push me down the stairs.

I tried to run away. Went to the police and reported Mother’s treatment of me. Her cop boyfriend said I was a troublemaker, smoothed it all over and made the authorities look the other way. He took me back to Mother.

And once again, Zander was in charge of punishment. That time, my foster brother closed my hand in a door.

When I healed, I did what Mother said. What else could I do? I learned to lie and steal. To run grifts with Mother and Zander. We moved around a lot to find new marks, used fake names. Mother’s boyfriend helped with credentials and documents. Fake identities. Zander was always watching me, spying. Waiting for the chance to punish me again. Waiting for me to run so he could lock me up.

But every moment, I was searching for my chance to get out.

Little by little, I sought out independence. It felt like ages for me to find it. But as I got older, it was harder and harder for Mother and Zander to control me. I got my job at the plant nursery. That turned into a job designing flower arrangements for a local restauranteur. Just like Travis told me. Within a few years, I was taking courses at the local community college. I started dating Cam and moved in with him as quickly as possible. I thought Mother and Zander couldn’t touch me anymore. Mother’s cop-boyfriend had drifted off, so he was out of the picture, much to my relief. I thought I’d finally found my own life.

Of course, they ruined it.

Zander got me fired from my job and threatened to tell my school thatLark Richardswasn’t my real name. But instead of coming home like they wanted, I ran again. Farther away than ever before. I ran to Santa Barbara County, and I took Cam with me.

We settled down in Solvang and started again. It wasn’t easy because Mother had my birth certificate and anything tied to my real identity. I had to work under the table, freelancing and taking whatever gigs I could get. Even then, I hid the worst parts of my history from my boyfriend. I told him I was estranged from my family and that they wouldn’t approve of our relationship. I just wanted my past to disappear. I wanted my foster family to forget me.

But my past came for me. Like it always has.

Zander and Mother tracked me down, and I realized I’d been a fool to ever think they’d let me go free.

After they found out where I was living, they were more than happy to relocate to Southern California. A fresh pool of opportunities. Wealthy people to con. Zander showed up at my door, making threats and bullying me and Cam. I pushed back at first. That worked for a while. But my family has a way of wearing me down. A thousand relentless jabs and cuts, until I was once again desperate to escape from the pressure.

A business proposition. That was what Zander called it. One last con, and then they’d leave me alone.

Mother was the one who found Travis Bradley.

“You,” I say. “You’re the reason I started volunteering at the clinic. You wanted me to meet Travis. Wanted me to get close to him.”

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