The Perfect Lie (The Perfect Stranger #3) - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,33

is fried and uncombed, like it hasn’t been washed in weeks. I want to ask her what happened, but right now I also want to celebrate a little.

“I wasn't sure if you were going to,” Mom says. “I kept praying and praying that you would, but that was lot of money and I wasn't sure if you were going to be able to come up with it.”

“That wasn’t exactly mine to give,” I say.

“I'm so sorry, honey,” she says and pulls me in close to her.

My mother looks a lot like Susan Sarandon. She's got big eyes and red hair with a fiery personality to match.

Unlike me, she likes to be the center of attention and the life of the party. That always seemed to get her in trouble, but never like now.

Her left eye has a big bruise around it and there are more bruises up and down her arms and legs.

She's dressed in a tight dress, but it's dirty and weathered, like it hasn't been washed in weeks.

“How long have they been keeping you there?” I don't know where there is and I'm too afraid to ask.

“Don't worry about it, honey,” Mom says, giving me a firm squeeze of the shoulders.

“You have to tell me what happened,” I say.

“I know,” Mom says, tossing her hair and straightening her back.

She looks like she has been to hell and back and yet here she is tall, elegant, and confident as ever.

“I will. Ultimately, everything. Just not now.”

“Right,” I say, rubbing my neck a little bit and turning my head from side to side.

The pain seems to have gone away. It seems to have been brought on just by the actual physical pain but also from the tension in the fear of being thrown into the van.

“We need to figure out what to do,” I say, looking around.

There's a big cliff to one side of the road and a mountain going up the other. The road up the mountain is narrow at only one lane each way. Every few minutes, someone drives by, but I'm not desperate enough to flag one down yet.

I feel around for what I have on me. Surprisingly, they threw me back my wallet and my phone. They took the money, of course.

“I don't have any reception here,” I say. “I think we have to walk up to see if we can get some.”

Mom limps along behind me in her heels. She has always enjoyed dressing up and being a very feminine woman.

Unlike her, I can't stand heels and I can count on my hand how many times I have worn them in the last five years.

“How are those flats?” I ask. “What happened to the heels?”

“It was easier to run in flats, so I broke them off,” Mom says. “Didn't do much good. They caught me anyway.” She winks at me and smiles.

I shake my head, unable to understand how she can be so easy-going and joking about something that caused her so much pain, but that's always been her way.

It's not that she's pretending, it's just that she's trying to make light of the situation.

“Thanks for coming for me, Isabelle. I would not have made it if you hadn't.”

She grabs my hand and gives me a squeeze.

21

Isabelle

I let out a sigh of relief.

I know that taking the money without Tyler's permission was a mistake and that he's going to be really mad, but I hope that when he sees my mom and he sees everything that she's been through, he realizes that it's going to be worth it.

I'm tempted to tell her about him, but I hesitate.

My mom and I have had a complicated relationship and just because everything seems okay now, doesn't mean that she's a particularly trustworthy person.

About a mile up the hill, I check my phone and see that I have two bars. I log into the Uber app and request a car. According to the map, there are shops another half a mile up and I make plans with the driver to meet there. Afterward, he drives us up to Running Springs where I left my car.

I debate with myself how much I should tell her about Tyler, eventually settling on not much or not yet. Whenever I think about him, I focus entirely on how I'm going to explain why I took the money. Of course, it was for my mom, but I have no excuse for not telling him upfront and not asking him to help me. This whole