Page 97 of The Two Last Moments

Finally, I notice an address. It’s written sideways on a random page, easy to miss. Easy to disregard, because Lark wrote down lots of things in her planner. But when I plug the address into Google Maps, I find that it’s for a vineyard that’s about twenty minutes from here, where the land is hilly and rural. The street view shows a quiet road with rolling hills in the distance, the kind of place Lark would adore.

And then I spot a weeping willow tree a little down the road from the vineyard entrance. Like the tree in Nina’s backyard.

A hunch slots into position in my brain.

I toss the cardboard box into my trunk and jump into the driver’s seat.

* * *

Less than half an hour later,I pull the Charger onto the side of a rural road. Fields of wine grapes grow on hills into the distance. About a hundred yards ahead, I spot a stone and wrought-iron sign, which marks the entrance to a winery. But there’s a low-lying area to my right, with a small creek, where a weeping willow grows on the bank.

Over near the willow, the only sign of life is an old camper, which is parked just off the road.

The moment I step out of my car, warm air and sweet-smelling plants greet me. A gentle breeze ruffles the hanging branches of the willow. This place saysLarkall over it, so much that it makes me ache for her.

I wish she were here with me right now. Even if she’s got no real connection to this place, she’d love it. She’d want to move right in. I’d lay down a blanket for her, and we’d just relax together for hours until it was dark, until the stars came out.

I want to take her camping, like I told her last night at the hotel. Out in the middle of nowhere, just us, making love in the open air. I want to see her smiling and laughing without any trace of sorrow knotting her brow. No more fear. No more running.

Don’t run from me, Lark. Don’t run from us.

A metal door slams, pulling me out of my fantasy. Someone just climbed down from the camper. He comes around the side toward me, work boots crunching in the roadside gravel.

“Hello? Can I help you?”

At the sound of his voice, my breath stops.

His hair has grown long enough to dust his shoulders. He’s got a thick beard, and his skin’s a burnished copper from years in the sun. But when he gets a good look at me, his blue eyes go wide. Same eyes I see in the mirror.

“Danny?” my uncle sputters. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“How did you find me?”

Unbelievable. First time I’ve seen Travis in almost twenty years, and that’s all he has to say?

I’m surprised he even recognizes me. Last time he saw me, I was fourteen. A kid. And that reminder is a cold slap in my face. He left, and he didn’t want anything to do with me. Hestilldoesn’t want me here. That’s clear from his stiff back, the way he’s keeping his distance.

This isn’t some heartfelt reunion. I have a purpose here, and it’s not to tell Uncle Travis how I missed him all these years.

“I’m here about Lark.”

His eyes narrow. But I don’t think it’s because her name is unfamiliar.

I take out my phone and pull up the first picture I can find of her. It’s a selfie I took of us at the restaurant last night. My mind boggles to think it was less than a day ago. The two of us are smiling with the ocean in the background.

That night, she wasmine.

I turn around my phone and show him the picture, ignoring the vicious tugs at my heartstrings. “Do you know her?” I ask gruffly. “Yes or no.”

Travis looks at the photo without taking the phone. “Of course I do.”

“How?”

“How doyouknow her?”

“You first.”

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