I just had to do this. I had to get it done. Just, fucking say the words. Get it over and done with.

Mom, I’m sorry…

“My mom.” My throat was clogged. “My mom was sick.”

We didn’t open the curtains. Mom never wanted them open.

“She—she took her life when we were in high school. Brooke and I. I—”

I couldn’t.

How could you do this?

How could you do what you did?

“I wanted you to have a friend, my sweet little girl.”

I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

No words were coming to my throat. I couldn’t speak.

“Ash.” She started to scoot forward. She was going to touch my knee. And that touch would be kind, comforting. I could not have that.

“My name isn’t Ash,” I burst out. I was slowly leaving my body, but this—this had be to very clear. “I don’t know what my real name is.”

Now I had the room’s attention, but it wasn’t what they thought.

The detective frowned, and she started to look at her notes.

“I’m sure there’s a name on my birth certificate, but I have no idea what it says. You don’t understand. She—my mom… She was depressed. She was angry. She was irrational. She… she terrified me. She terrified everyone, but …” She was my mom. How could I explain that? “She wanted me to have a sister and, then one day, I had a sister. I know she wasn’t adopted, but my mom told me she was. She told Brooke she was. She wasn’t. And I know this because I saw her missing poster sitting next to our fireplace. My mom was starting a fire. The doorbell rang. She went to answer it, and I walked through the room. I saw the paper. She was going to burn it. It was Brooke. My sister. My mom—Her real name was Ashley Cruz and my mom kidnapped her.”

“This is your new room, sweetheart.”

She held her hand out. “My name is—”

“What’s your name, sweetie?”

“—my name is Ashley. What’s yours?”

I couldn’t look at Raize. I knew he would be tormented. I knew he would want to come over and pick me up, take me away if I asked him to, and I wanted to ask him that. So, because of that, because he gave no fucks who would care, I couldn’t look at him.

Though, God, I wanted to. I wanted so badly.

The detective hadn’t said anything, so I kept going. Might as well get it all out.

“You can check your database, but she’ll be in there.” And now for the hard part. “Brooke—Ashley looked like me. That’s why she was targeted. My mom did that. She targeted her, and she did it because she wanted me to have a sister. She used the word ‘friend’, but it was code for ‘sister.’”

“Sisters. She’s your friend that’ll never leave. You’d like a new friend, wouldn’t you?”

“She always said that loneliness could kill. She didn’t want me to be lonely, and the thing is that I wasn’t. I went to school. I had friends. I had Dad. I had…” My voice cracked. “I had her. But she was lonely, so she was convinced I was lonely. She didn’t want me to be alone.”

“Was your dad involved?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. He was on drugs most of my life, drinking if he wasn’t high. I don’t know.”

“You said your—the girl kidnapped was Ashley Cruz?”

Ashley Cruz. I saw her missing poster once... Doesn’t matter if he’s not the one who got her. Someone got her.

I nodded. “My mom renamed her Brooke.” A tear slipped down my face. This one I could feel. “My first name was Brooke. She took it and gave it to her.”

“Why would she do that?”

I shook my head, my throat threatening to completely close up. “I have no idea.”

And for the rest.

“My mom would lie, like, every day. Small lies. Big lies. Stupid lies. Things about big and major things, but also; she’d lie about what kind of toothpaste she used. Just, stupid things and I grew up in that. I got good, real good, at knowing what was a lie and what wasn’t. But yeah, she lied. About everything.”

What didn’t she lie about?

What didn’t you lie about, Mom?

“Do you have anything else to share with us?”

God.

My throat was so closed up.

“After Mom died, Brooke went off the rails. She was pulled in by a Romeo pimp and you guys have her in the database. She was picked up recently. I don’t know if those charges changed, but you’re going to pull her and you’ll see for yourself. She was a victim of... “ Jesus. I couldn’t even say it all. “It’s not her fault, what she did, what happened to her. None of it was her fault.”

It wasn’t mine.

I closed my eyes, trying to tell myself that.

It wasn’t my fault.

It wasn’t my fault.

I felt like it was my fault.

“Okay.” The air was so thick, but the detective was trying to push forward. “Okay. So, we are going to need you to come down to the station. We’ll need your DNA. We’re going to pull everything. Your mom. Your dad. Ashley. Your file. Everything.”

I wasn’t looking, but her voice sounded far away for a second.

“My partner already sent in the search and you’re correct. Ashley Cruz was reported missing in Colorado when she was six years old.”

Six.

Colorado.

Oh my God.

A ‘neighbor girl.’ How long had my mom planned that?

“I have no doubt that her DNA will match Ashley’s, and we can move forward from there.” Her voice sounded different again. She might’ve stood up. I still wasn’t looking. “Do you, uh— I don’t know how to proceed from here.”

“Gail!”

I didn’t recognize that voice. I was assuming it was her partner’s.

She ignored him. “I’m not a counselor. My God, I’m not a counselor, but I know a little bit and you have—there’s people you can talk to. Counselors. Allies. They don’t need to report anything to the police.”

“Gail,” another groan.

“They are there for you. Only you.”

I felt her hand again. It touched mine and squeezed, so gently.

She added, “I am so very sorry for what you have gone through, but what you did today was—it will help reset any wrong that was done. That’s a good thing. I’ll leave my card with your associates, and we’ll be in touch for any more questions about this situation.”

Another groan, “Detective Maronzetti, a word before you make any more promises.”

“Yeah.” She moved her head, as if sharing her thoughts away. She said under her breath, “I don’t care. Right now, I don’t care.”

I didn’t think those words were meant for me.

She started to pull her hand away, but I turned mine around and caught hers.

I squeezed it. Once. Just briefly.

As I looked up, her eyes were watering and she turned away. Her card was out, and she handed it to Raize. Not Roman. Raize. But she addressed Roman next with a small nod. “An eventful first meeting, Mr. Marakov.”

He grinned. “Yes, it was.”