Page 22 of The Two Last Moments

I force myself to sit there and hold her hand, not moving. Not even breathing. But inside, I want to scream. I want to go out and find the asshole who did these things to her. What the fuck is wrong with people?

She was running from something when I first saw her. Someone. Maybe she was trying to get away from her abuser, and he wouldn’t let her go.

Lark’s hand feels so small inside of mine.

Angela asks a few more questions, and then Cliff takes over. “We’ve interviewed the neighbors up and down the street, as well as in the nearby vicinity. Several mentioned seeing a young woman matching your description walking through the neighborhood, coming from the direction of the main boulevard.”

Lark doesn’t say anything, so I ask, “Walking the whole time? She didn’t get out of a car or anything?”

“Not that we’ve found.” Cliff turns back to Lark. “It seems like you made a straight path here, to this street.”

As if she was heading this direction for some purpose. “But none of the neighbors recognized her?” I ask.

Cliff shakes his head. “We’ll also try circulating her photo in the local media to check a wider pool of people.”

“Could she have been heading to someone’s house, but they didn’t expect her? Or they didn’t know what she looked like? She could’ve been…making a delivery?” I’m grasping at anything I can come up with.

“We haven’t found any indication of that,” Cliff says. “We tried a Geo-fence, which is where we pull the cell numbers from the towers for anyone in the close vicinity of the accident. Danny, we saw yours. But the others nearby either belonged to neighbors or were anonymous. Unregistered. Lark, if you had a phone nearby, we couldn’t locate it, and the cell tower dump didn’t lead us to the driver of the car, either. But we’ve also been collecting doorbell cam footage. There was, ah…” He taps his finger against his phone screen, clearly stalling. “This might be tough to hear.”

“Say it.” Lark’s jaw is tight, teeth clenched.

“We’ve got a video from the homeowner directly across the street from where the accident occurred,” Cliff says.

I didn’t think Lark could get much paler, but she does. “It recorded when the car hit me?”

“Yes. And it recorded Danny arriving on-scene within seconds. Then the car accelerating toward both of you.”

“I don’t want to watch it,” Lark says.

“You don’t need to,” Angela rushes to say. “We’ve asked the homeowner for all copies as part of the investigation. We’re going to keep it strictly confidential, and you don’t need to worry about anyone else watching it for now. But that will change once we’ve found a suspect and brought charges. I don’t want that to upset you, but you need to be aware of it.”

Lark doesn’t respond, but I feel a tremor go through her. A lock of dark hair falls across her cheek. I fight the urge to brush it back. But that’s a losing battle.

Lark has her eyes on the carpet, and she looks up when my finger tucks the errant lock of hair behind her ear. That small point of contact, the slide of my skin against hers, is electric. I swear I can see it in her eyes. The way the green deepens in intensity.

I know it then, down to my bones.

I’m going to do absolutely anything I can to help this girl. Fuck what I normally would do. Because the shit Lark is dealing with? It’s nowhere near normal.

Cliff is still talking. He hasn’t noticed the silent exchange between me and Lark. But Angela? She’s got an eyebrow slightly arched, and I’m sure she’s missing nothing.

I rest my hand on Lark’s shoulder and squeeze. “Did the doorbell cam get a picture of the driver?” I ask Cliff.

“No, man. The video shows him stopping to open the car door and pick up Lark’s backpack, but his face is blocked from view. The car had tinted windows. No plates either. You were right about that.”

“But we’ve got an APB out on the make and model of the vehicle,” Angela adds. “It’ll have damage to the front end. We’ve got the tire tread imprints. Something may turn up.”

Lark’s eyes have gone dark. Like a forest at night. “What about finding my identity? If the guy who went after me is someone I knew, maybe my friends or family would know him too. Even if I can’t remember him.”

“Exactly what I was thinking.” Angela smiles, and the aggressive shine in her eyes matches Lark’s.

Angela reviews everything they’ll do to find Lark’s identity. There’s a national fingerprint database run by the FBI, and they’ll run Lark’s prints to check for matches. They’ll also check her DNA in a similar database.

“Even if the DNA match is with a family member, it’ll turn up,” Angela says. “We’re also keeping tabs on NamUs. It’s a national clearinghouse for missing persons cases. As soon as your friends and family realize you’re gone, they’ll contact local police wherever they are. They may have already done so. It’s just a matter of time until we connect with them.”

“You make it sound easy,” Lark says.

“It’s legwork. In can take time, but we’ll do our utmost to make it happen.”

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