A drink didn't sound bad, but I felt in too much emotional turmoil to fake being a good date tonight. The sound of my phone ringing gave me a reason to stall. "Hold on, I need to get my phone. Dani is at the doctor." I dashed into the office to retrieve my phone from my bag. I really didn't want this to be Dani calling with bad news.

Jeff followed me into the office with concern in his eyes. But it was an unknown number flashing on my screen.

"It's not her," I said. But I answered the call just in case it was the doctor's office. "Hello?"

"Brynn Landry?" a woman asked.

"Yes."

"I'm Kendra Miller, a nurse at St. Mary's Hospital in San Francisco."

"Okay." When she said hospital, my brain went straight to Dani, but my sister wasn't in San Francisco. "What do you want?" I asked.

"I have some bad news," the woman replied. "Your mother is in critical condition."

My breath caught in my throat. "What?"

"She was brought in thirty minutes ago," Nurse Miller said.

"That's impossible." I felt suddenly dizzy. I put a bracing hand on the desk in front of me. "My stepmother is in Los Angeles."

"The woman told me her name is Kim Landry. Although, there is some confusion, because her ID gives her name as Laura Hawthorne."

My stomach flipped over. "I don't understand." Kim Landry was my mother's name. But I didn't know a Laura Hawthorne. "Why are you calling me? How did you get my number?"

"It was in her phone. I spoke to your mother briefly when she was brought in. She said to tell you and your sister she's sorry and that she always loved you."

My breath started coming too fast. My mother had died twenty years ago, when I was seven years old. "There must be some mistake. You have the wrong person."

"I don't think so. There's a photo in her wallet of her with two little girls, Brynn and Dani. You're Brynn, right?"

"Yes, but…"

"I just took a picture of the photo. I'm texting it to you," the nurse said.

I opened the text, and the image sent a stabbing pain through my body. I was looking at the same photo that sat on my nightstand, that sat on Dani's nightstand—the last one taken of my mother with Dani and me at a park a month before she died.

"Is that your mother?" the nurse asked.

"Yes," I said, barely able to get the word through my tight lips.

"You should come to the hospital, Ms. Landry."

"What—what happened to her? Was she in an accident?"

"No. She was shot."

Her answer shocked me again. "Shot? Who shot her?"

"I don't know. You can talk to the police about that. I just wanted to let you know that if you want to see your mother, don't delay. Her condition is grave."