Page 54 of The Two Last Moments

I’d hoped that our afternoon away from the house would smooth things over between us. But if anything, Lark’s even more pissed at me than when we started.

It doesn’t take long before we’re pulling into the driveway. I shut off the engine, but don’t get out. “You really want to work as a server for the Shelbornes?”

She bristles. “What’s wrong with that?”

“I wasn’t suggesting there’s something wrong with it. They’re great people. Aiden’s a good cook.”

“He is. I wouldn’t mind spending more time with him.”

I squeeze the steering wheel, making the leather creak.

“He doesn’t treat me like an invalid or a victim,” she adds.

“You think I do?”

“I think you don’t get what this is like for me.”

“Then tell me.”

“Think about it,” Lark snaps. She’s still looking out the side window. “Weeks keep passing, and nobody has come for me except a liar who was going to deliver me to someone even worse. What if there isn’t anybody out there who loves me? Who misses me? If that’s how it is, then Idon’t wantmy memories back.”

I reach out for her. “Lark.”

“Don’t, Danny. Please.” She pushes the door open and gets out of the car.

When we get inside, the house is quiet, which is typical for the late afternoon. Lark heads straight for Nina’s room, and I follow. Nina is asleep on her bed with her iPad on her lap. Starla is dozing in the chair next to her.

Meanwhile, I’m second-guessing every fucking decision I’ve made in the last month. I’ve been trying to do my best for Lark. But the aching despair I heard in her voice when she said,What if there isn’t anybody out there who loves me?

I just want to take that away.

“Can I talk to you?” I ask softly.

“Later.” Lark picks up the iPad and hands it to me. She adjusts Nina’s blankets, gently patting them over Nina’s stomach.

Lark has so much kindness in her. I just can’t believe that she’s got no family or loved ones. I want to reassure her that we’ll figure it out. We’ll never stop looking. But I’ve already made promises to Lark that I haven’t kept.

I wake up Nina’s iPad, intending to shut it down. But when the screen lights up, I see Nina’s email inbox, and my eye zeroes in on the message she has open.

I’m not trying to invade her privacy. But I see the wordsmy son Travis, and then I find myself reading the rest.

It’s about my uncle, who took off almost twenty years ago and never came back.

I don’t recognize the email address that the original message came from. It’s a random-sounding handle. The subject reads,I know where your son is.

“What the heck is this?” I say.

Lark looks up. “What’s wrong?”

Starla is snoring. Nina stirs, moving her head in her sleep, so I wave Lark into the hallway. I show her the message thread.

“It’s about Travis. My uncle.”

“The one who Nina won’t talk about?”

The original message came a few months ago, in the summer. The person claimed to be a friend of Travis’s and said he was sorry for breaking ties with us, but was too proud to contact his family after so much time.That part rings true, I think.

But the rest of this makes no sense.

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