B009QTK5QA EBOK (18 page)

He nodded and we shook hands.

“And I won’t get you in trouble,” I said again. “It’s the least I can do for what you’ve given me.”

He shrugged, set his hands on his hips. “Don’t worry about me. Just go find your daughter.”

THIRTY-NINE

The icy air hit me like a wall when I stepped outside, the sunshine blinding me, brilliant against the snow-covered world. I shuffled through the slush on the sidewalk to get to the rental, cranked up the heat and sat there for a moment, trying to stop my hands from shaking.

I knew I had to make a phone call.

I fumbled in my pocket for my cell phone. I pulled it out, scrolled through the contacts and found the one I wanted. I stared at it for a moment, then pressed my finger to it, waited for it to dial. The ringing was loud as I held the phone to my ear.

“Hey,” Lauren said on the other end. “You caught me just in time.”

“In time for what?”

“Flying to San Francisco for a depo,” she said. “I’m at Lindbergh. Flight is late. Surprise.”

“You need to come to Minneapolis,” I said.

The line buzzed. “Why?”

Tears were forming in my eyes and my throat was closing. I couldn’t find the words.

“Joe?” she asked. “Why?”

“She’s alive, Lauren,” I managed. “I think I found her.”

The line buzzed again. “What?”

“Can you get on a plane?” I asked. “Now?”

“I’ll call you right back,” she said.

The call clicked off and I set the phone in my lap, my hands still shaking. I gripped the steering wheel, trying to settle myself. I needed to calm down, needed to start thinking straight, plan a course of action.

I thought about calling Mike, but I figured he’d tell me the same thing Tim did. To wait, involve the local police and arrange something at the address I now had for Ellie Corzine.

It wasn’t that it was bad advice. But there was no way I was going to wait. I’d waited
eight
years to find my daughter, pouring my life into searching, looking, hoping. It had consumed me in a way that I didn’t think anything ever could. And now I had someone telling me that not only was she alive, but she was nearby.

No way in hell I was waiting for anyone or anything.

The phone rang in my lap and I grabbed it. “Hey.”

“I just switched my flight,” Lauren said, out of breath. “I’m running to gate now. Leaves in fifteen minutes.”

“Text me the info,” I said. “I’ll meet you there.”

She huffed and puffed into the phone. “Joe.”

“I saw her picture,” I said. “In a yearbook. She’s enrolled in a high school here. I have a home address.”

“Oh my God,” she said and I knew she was crying. “It’s her?”

“It’s her, Lauren,” I said. “It’s her.”

She whimpered into the phone.

Tears streamed down my cheeks.

“Hang on,” she said. “I’m at the gate.”

She must’ve already gone thru security. I knew her firm always flew first-class and she’d probably gone to the airline’s executive lounge to make the change.

Timing. Timing always mattered.

“I’m in the jetway,” she said. “I’ll send you flight info as soon as I sit down.”

“Okay.”

“Oh my God, Joe,” she said. “It’s really her?”

“I wouldn’t have called.”

“I know, I know,” she said, sobbing. “I know.”

“Just get here,” I said, wiping at my eyes. “I’ll be there to pick you up.”

“Okay,” she said, her voice strained. Voices mumbled behind her. “I’m on. I’m on.”

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Joe?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s it going to be like?” she asked, her voice cracking.

My grip tightened on the steering wheel and I stared out the windshield. “I have no idea.”

FORTY

Lauren’s flight info came through three minutes later. Her arrival time gave me three hours to fill and I took a deep breath.

I needed to get it together and make some decisions.

The logical decision was to call the police. Involve Mike, federal authorities and get everyone on the same page. But I knew how that would go. She’d been gone for a long time. This wasn’t a fresh disappearance. She wouldn’t just be brought out of the house and handed to me. There would be an incredible amount of red tape to navigate and the thought of wading through that made me ill. I knew that eventually that would all have to be taken care of, but I didn’t have the patience for that right then.

I wanted to see my daughter first.

I plugged the name of the high school into the GPS and it pulled up a route that would take twenty-two minutes.

I made it in fourteen.

The school itself was a massive stone building with steeples, large glass windows and a sprawling snow-covered lawn. Cars were parked along the street at the curb and a few students were walking along the shoveled sidewalk.

I pulled to the side and let the car idle at the curb, staring at the building.

She was in there. Somewhere.

But I wasn’t sure how to get to her.

I’d made the decision driving over that I wouldn’t get Tim in trouble, no matter what I had to do. He’d risked his job to give me the information and I owed it to him to protect the source of that information. I wasn’t going to turn him into collateral damage.

I gripped the steering wheel, trying to settle my hands. The longer I sat there, the less sure I became of what I was doing. Would she recognize me? Would she be afraid of me? What exactly was I going to say?

I leaned my head against the steering wheel. I’d worked this moment over in my head for so long and it felt nothing like it did right then. I’d always seen myself rushing to her, grabbing her, sharing a tearful reunion. But the reality was that I had no idea what was best for her. Or me.

The bell rang, echoing across the street. Almost immediately, the massive front doors opened and teenagers spilled out, pulling on their heavy coats and knit caps. Laughing, talking, frowning. Hundreds of different faces, none that I recognized.

I glanced at my watch. It was mid-day. I assumed it was lunchtime.

I searched every female face I could find, but it was like looking for a needle in the world’s largest moving haystack. The more students that exited the school, the more frustrated I became when I didn’t see her.

The students headed toward the parking lot and took up residence on the lawn, just standing in the snow, happy to be outside rather than in the stuffy classrooms. As the doors stopped opening and students stopped exiting, my hope of spotting Elizabeth dwindled. A heavy knot settled in my gut.

I glanced at the sheet of paper on the passenger seat, the one Tim had given me. I typed the address into the GPS, which told me I was eleven minutes away from where Elizabeth supposedly lived.

But she wouldn’t be there. She was in the school somewhere. And Tim was right. Rushing into the school and trying to find her would cause more harm than good. The circumstances didn’t matter. I could go in there and shout to whomever I wanted, but given the nervousness around school security, I’d get nowhere and would probably complicate everything.

I didn’t want to be rational, but I needed to be. For everyone’s sake.

I sat there and watched the students, still hoping for a glimpse of Elizabeth.

Nothing.

Cars began to return to the parking lot, having made a quick run to nearby fast-food restaurants. The kids emerged from the cars, drinks in hand, laughing, talking and frowning just as they had when they’d left.

The bell rang and they reluctantly trudged back toward the main doors, the laughing and chaos replaced with resignation, knowing they had several hours left in their school day.

The last student disappeared behind the door and the world was quiet again.

I sat there for a moment, fighting the urge to drive right through the front door and demand my daughter.

But I’d worked a very long time to get so close.

I wasn’t going to screw it up.

The clock told me I had several hours before school let out and before I’d be able to find someone at the address I had.

Just enough time to get to the airport and get Lauren.

We could go find our daughter.

Together.

FORTY-ONE

Lauren couldn’t let go of me.

I’d called Mike and left him a message, not telling him why I was calling but asking him to call me back as soon as he could. I’d grabbed a sandwich at a deli, took two bites and threw it away, my stomach too unsettled to do any digesting. Then I drove to the airport and waited for my ex-wife.

I waited in the baggage area at MSP and spotted her on the down escalator. She wore a red sweater, black skirt and black boots, a briefcase slung over her shoulder. Her eyes, swollen and puffy, matched the color of her sweater.

She came through the double doors and launched herself into my arms. I let her hang on to me for a few minutes, not saying anything, ignoring the stares of the people around us. Her body shook against mine, her face buried in my shoulder, her hands clasped around my neck.

The sobbing finally slowed and she took a few deep breaths. She pulled away.

Her mascara had created dark circles around her watery eyes. She tried to smile. “Hi.”

I kissed her cheek. “Hi.”

“Sorry,” she said, wiping at her cheeks. “I’m a mess.”

“It’s alright.”

“I need a bathroom.”

We found one close by and she ducked inside.

Even though we’d been divorced for so long, there was still a comfort level between us. Yes, the breakdown of our marriage was acrimonious and we’d both said and done things we wished we hadn’t. But once we’d created some distance between us, we realized that the divorce wasn’t really about us. It was about the circumstances. We’d agreed that we had to continue to live our lives differently after Elizabeth. Together wasn’t working. We’d finally come to terms with that and it had allowed us to remain close over the years. And when I’d visited San Diego, just the week before coming to Minnesota, we’d ended up spending a night together.

I wasn’t sure where that left us, but I was glad she’d come to Minnesota so quickly.

She emerged from the bathroom, makeup reapplied, her cheeks clean, the redness in her eyes somewhat tempered.

She ran a hand through her hair and took another deep breath. “Okay. Tell me.”

We walked through the baggage claim area and up the escalators to the parking level. I told her everything I’d learned since getting to Minneapolis. About seeing her picture in the yearbook and Tim Barron’s confirmation that she was currently an enrolled student at a local school. By the time we reached my car, she was already churning all of it over in her head.

“So you haven’t see her yet?” she asked, getting situated in the passenger seat.

“No. Just the photo in the yearbook from a number of years ago.”

“Did he have last year’s yearbook? From the high school?”

“No. Just from grade school.”

“But he could get them,” she said.

“Yeah, I guess. But we’re going to the house.”

“The house?”

“The address he gave me for this Corzine family,” I said. “I’m not waiting. The only thing I was waiting for was you.”

“What if it’s not her?”

“It’s her, Lauren. I saw the photo.”

“But, I don’t know, maybe
…
”

“I swear to you,” I said as we went through the pay booths. “I wouldn’t have called you unless I was absolutely certain it was her. I would not put you through this unless it was her. That’s the one promise I’ve always made you.”

We exited the airport, turned onto the highway and were passing the exit for Mall of America before she spoke again.

“I’m just preparing myself to be disappointed,” Lauren said. “You know that’s what I do. I’ve refused to let myself believe she was still alive, refused to think I’d ever get that call from you. And then I get it. Today. And here we are. Driving to go see our daughter. Maybe.”

Brake lights lit up in front of us and I slowed, the late afternoon traffic beginning to tie up the freeways.

“I mean, what if she doesn’t know who we are?” Lauren said, staring straight ahead. “What if she doesn’t remember? Or what if she blames us?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“What if she doesn’t want to talk to us?” Lauren said. “What if she doesn’t want to leave?”

“I don’t know.”

“And what if she’s
…
not alright?” she said, her voice dropping. “What if she’s not okay?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know, Lauren. I don’t have any answers. But I want them.”