Once in a Blue Moon Read Free Page B

lay in pieces on the carpet, its head crushed, its wings severed from its body. In the years to come Lindsay couldn’t think about her sister without seeing in her mind that poor, ruined angel.
    But what would haunt her most would be the memory of Kerrie Ann crying out to her when it was time for them to go their separate ways—Lindsay to a foster home in Sparks and Kerrie Ann to one in another part of the state. A three-year-old girl in dirty pink terry shorts and a My Little Pony T-shirt, her face a knot of fear and confusion, her small body straining furiously against the adult arms holding her in check. Lindsay would never forget, either, the panic in her sister’s voice as she begged her big sister not to let them take her.
    It was the last she would see of that little girl.

C HAPTER O NE

    Los Angeles, California; present day
    “Y OU GET OFF on pawing through ladies’ underwear?” Kerrie Ann sniped.
    The airport security guard glanced sharply up at her before resuming his search of her carry-on bag. She immediately regretted shooting off her mouth. Why go looking for trouble when it was already on your ass like an APB on a stolen car? Here at LAX, of all places. Since 9/11, you couldn’t look crosswise at an airport official without being hauled off and strip-searched. And she was just the kind of person they would do that to. The kind likely to have a warrant out for her arrest or rock stashed in the lining of her suitcase. The only thing she wasn’t likely to be suspected of was being a terrorist, but only because she was white.
    Not just white but white-white. The kind of white that looked as if it never saw the sun because it was too busy soaking up the fluorescent lighting in some factory. She could almost hear the guard thinking, White trash . And who was she to deny it? Didn’t she deserve to be looked down upon, to be the only one in line to have her bag searched for no apparent reason? It wasn’t just that she looked the part, with her tattoo that snaked up one arm, pink streaks in her reddish-blond hair, and multiple piercings that had been enough to set off the metal detector. She was a world-class fuckup. She’d fucked up so royally, she’d had her kid taken away.
    An invisible fist clenched about her heart at the thought. Annabella, Bella for short. Her six-year-old daughter, who wasn’t hers anymore, at least not according to the state of California. Not until she could demonstrate that she was a fit parent. Seven whole months, and her only contact in all that time the twice-monthly visits supervised by Bella’s caseworker. And with her daughter in a foster home near San Luis Obispo, a three-hour drive each way, the trip alone was an exercise in frustration. Twice, on her way to visit Bella, the engine of her geriatric Ford Falcon had overheated, and once she’d blown a tire, which had eaten away at even those few allotted hours.
    It won’t be this way forever. She clung to that belief as if to a life preserver.
    “All right, you’re good to go.” The guard, a swarthy middle-aged man, his cheeks pitted with old acne scars, zipped up her canvas carryall. But before she could snatch it off the table, he leaned in so they were eye to eye and said in a low, warning voice, “One word of advice, miss. Don’t get cute. You get cute with us, you could find yourself in a whole lot of trouble. Got it?”
    Kerrie Ann bit back a sharp retort. The dude didn’t have anything on her, but he could still fuck with her, and she didn’t want to miss her flight. She shot him a dirty look instead, waiting until she was out of earshot to mutter a few choice words under her breath.
    The delay had put her a few crucial minutes behind schedule, and when she heard the boarding call for Flight 302 to San Francisco, she broke into a run. Why was everything so frigging hard all the time? If she didn’t live all the way out in Simi Valley, if her friend Cammie hadn’t gotten a ticket driving her to the airport,