Page 60 of Faron

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But sometimes—like tonight—I wondered if she lied.

I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at the photo.

“You’re not dead,” I whispered.

A tear slipped down my cheek.

I opened the drawer I never touched. Pulled out the one thing I’d kept hidden—my original birth certificate.

Aponi Lightfoot.

No middle name. No father listed. No hospital. Just a place:Red Stone Reservation, Texas.

My hands shook.

I didn’t know what I was looking for.

But I needed to find it.

I needed to remember who I was—beforeI became Hartman.

55

Faron

Icouldn’t wait any longer.

Blue offered to come. Tag joked about backup. But this… this was mine to face.

I waited outside her precinct until her shift ended. Every second felt like a countdown to impact.

At exactly six, she walked out—boots steady, eyes sharp. Unshakable. Unchanged.

“Aponi,” I called.

She froze.

Her hand went to her sidearm as she turned.

Our eyes met.

And her world shattered.

“No,” she breathed, stepping back. “No. That’s not—you’re not…”

“It’s me.”

Tears blurred my vision.

“You’re dead,” she whispered. “My mother said—you and Dad were dead.”

I stepped closer. “I was never dead. I’ve been looking for you for years.”

She shook her head like it might erase me. “She changed my name. Took me away. I remembered you, Faron. I rememberedeverything.I changed my name back, three years ago.”

“I never stopped looking,” I said. “But it was like you disappeared.”

She looked wrecked. “She made me light candles for you. Every birthday. I thought you were buried in the desert somewhere.”

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