Page 25 of Tag (The Golden Team #9)

Tag

W e were halfway to the shelter when Aponi pulled out her phone and stared at the screen like it might bite her.

“You going to call him?” I asked gently.

She didn’t look at me. “Yeah.”

She hit the number and lifted the phone to her ear.

“Faron,” she said when he picked up. “I need you.”

I couldn’t hear what he said, but her jaw tightened.

“It’s about her,” she said. “Mom.”

Another pause. Then her voice dropped to a whisper. “She’s alive.”

I watched her shoulders lift as she inhaled slowly—trying to steady herself.

“I’ll text you the address,” she said. “Please, Faron. Come.”

She hung up without waiting for more.

“He’ll meet us there,” she said, voice clipped. “We’re doing this as a family. I told him our mother died from cancer; he already hated her for leaving him and our father. He didn’t need to know she ran off and left me alone when I was thirteen.