Page 11 of Sweet on You
“Oh, my God,” I whispered and lifted the picture in my trembling fingers. The paper literally shook as I stared at it, blurring the image. But not so much that I didn’t recognize London immediately. “It’s her,” I whispered. It was a mug shot. She had aged ten years in the two since I’d seen her. Her blond hair was stringier. Her face gaunt. I swallowed hard, ignoring the pang of guilt. “She’s still an addict,” I said. It wasn’t a question. It was written all over her face.
Guilt panged in my chest. There’d been a time that we’d gotten high together. But when I hit rock bottom, I managed to climb out from that abyss and stay out. She, on the other hand, didn’t seem to ever get out in front of it. It was a constant struggle for me, too, of course. Far from easy. Even sitting here, at this bar, was a challenge. Alcohol was never my drug of choice back then, but it didn’t matter. It all created dependency issues and I’d rather just order the Diet Coke than wrestle with the fear and itch that even a small taste of alcohol would give me.
Lana nodded. “She lives about an hour north of here in New Hampshire in a town on the border of Maine. Authorities arrested her after she was caught stealing a Mercedes from a parking lot. According to my friend up there, they’re not letting her off easy, but the judge probably won’t throw the book at her either. She will probably serve a year in State prison. County, if she gets lucky.”
I swallowed hard, dropping the photo on the table. “Why did it take so long to find her?”
“London isn’t her real name. It’s Sarah. Sarah Murphy.”
My jaw went slack. “She never even told me her real name?” It certainly wasn’t any more of a betrayal than any of the other stuff she’d lied about. But it still hurt.
I closed my eyes and slid the picture back toward Lana, not wanting to look at it any longer. “And what about … ” My voice broke, unable to get the next question out.
Lana didn’t answer right away and my heart sank. I closed my eyes, trying to get a hold of my emotions.
“Open your eyes, Lex,” Lana said.
I did, slowly. Pinched between Lana’s fingers, there was a picture of a toddler. Short, blonde hair was pulled into two spikey pigtails and she grinned at the camera, her bright eyes sparkling. Turquoise eyes.Myeyes. “That’s…” my voice cracked as tears filled my eyes. “That’s her?”
Lana nodded. “That’s Olivia Roxanne Murphy. Your daughter.”
