Page 21 of The Two Last Moments

I don’t need all my memories to know that I don’t belong in his world.

9

Lark pulls up the stool to Nina’s bedside and sits to chat. Seems like they’re already getting along well. But that’s no surprise. My grandmother has always been easy to talk to, free with her attention, and ready with her advice too—whether you want it or not. She’s that way even with strangers. That’s just who she is.

Lark joked before that I have a lot of friends, and it’s true in some ways. But for a woman who can get downright cranky, Nina is the queen of making friends. She could walk through the grocery store and come out with a new guest for dinner. That’s why hosting exchange students was such a great fit for her. She loves nothing more than making a new person feel comfortable. But not through syrupy-sweet niceness. Nina puts people at ease by being real and treating them like family, bossiness and all.

She’s forgiving, too. Maybe too forgiving if you ask me.

My heart pangs to see Nina’s fiery energy diminished. But Nina doesn’t want anyone’s pity. Much like Lark. The two of them have a lot in common.

Matteo’s girlfriend Angela taps on my arm, pulling me into the hall. “Is this a good time for me to take Lark’s statement?”

As Matteo told me yesterday, Angela hasn’t been technically assigned to Lark’s case, and normally a patrol officer like Cliff would handle an initial victim statement on his own. But I hoped Lark might be more comfortable with Angela. Especially considering how reluctant she is to speak with anyone from the police.

“Yeah. She’s nervous, and I didn’t want to push it first thing. Give me five minutes? We’ll meet you in the living room.”

I go back to Nina’s bedroom. She and Lark are talking quietly, heads together, and Lark is laughing. Warmth blooms in my chest, seeing that. I hate that I’m about to spoil the mood. “Sorry to interrupt, ladies. Lark, Angela needs to get your statement. She’s the detective I mentioned.”

Her mouth drops open. “She’sthe detective?”

Nina pats Lark’s hand. “Angela’s a sweetheart. Go on. We’ll talk later, all right?”

Lark nods, though I can tell she’s unsure. I understand her surprise about Angela. I’ve known the detective for less than a year, but from what I’ve heard, Angela was more straight-laced before she met Matteo and went through a bunch of upheaval in her life.

Sometimes, the only way to face a problem is to change. Adapt. Matteo has said that Angela is far happier now than ever. And I’m sure she is.

But most of the time when shit goes down, people want to erase it. To go back to the life they had before. That’s what I’ve always strived to do for the people I’ve helped, either as a medic or a firefighter. To pick up their pieces and help put them together again during the brief time I’m in their lives.

That’s what I want for Lark.

Because whenyou knowa major change is coming for you, and you can’t do anything to stop it or reverse it? Or when you lose something and can never get it back? That’s pretty much the shittiest feeling in the world. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

* * *

We sitdown in the living room. Angela takes the seat across from Lark, while I’m sitting next to her. Cliff has his phone on his knee, a notes app visible on the screen.

“Lark, Cliff works with me at West Oaks PD,” Angela says. “He’s going to take notes on our interview, and he’ll use his body cam to record it. Danny thought you’d be more comfortable here than at the station.”

Lark squirms on the couch cushion. “This is fine. But I’ve already told the doctors and Danny what happened. Danny was there himself.”

“I understand how difficult this is. I’ve been a victim of a crime too, and it’s hard to keep talking about it. It’s totally up to you how this goes, but it does need to happen. Is there anything else you need before we get started?”

“No. I just wanna get it over with.”

I put my hand, palm up, on the cushion close enough that she’ll see it. Lark laces our fingers together.

Everyone else is quiet while she tells Angela what she knows. There isn’t much. But there is something she didn’t mention to me before.

Knots form in my stomach as I listen.

“I have some other bruises on my legs and stomach.” Lark’s eyes are on the rug. “Older ones. A doctor at the hospital noticed them, as well as some broken bones that had healed. He thought…maybe I’m an abuse victim.”

“Fuck,” I mutter. I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself.

“I’m so sorry,” Angela says. “That must’ve been frightening to realize.”

“Not like I remember it.” Lark’s voice has dropped to a whisper.

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