A pain shot through my stomach and it had nothing to do with hunger. “Hey.”
“How are you?”
“I’m okay. What’s going on?”
“I was going to see…” Her voice trailed off. She cleared her throat. “I wanted to see if you had time for lunch today.”
I stared at the untouched bagel, then dumped it in the trash can, knowing I wouldn’t be hungry when our conversation was over. “I can’t, Lauren.”
“Are you still looking for the girl?”
“No, we found her.”
“Was she alright?”
I gave her a sanitized version of finding Meredith.
“I’m glad you found her,” she said when I finished.
“Wasn’t really me. Her friend took me right to her.”
“But you kept pushing,” Lauren said. “You kept pushing.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Lauren finally said after a few moments of silence.
“Yeah, I am.”
She sighed into the phone. “I should’ve known.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” she said, her voice tinny, strained. “It’s alright. There were no promises.”
“The other night,” I said, trying to find words that wouldn’t sound cliched or forced. “I’m glad we had the other night.”
“Me too,” she said, but I couldn’t tell if she meant it.
“I really do miss you, Lauren,” I said. “I don’t know if you believe that, but I do. Miss you.”
She coughed and cleared her throat and I pictured her pacing in the house, the phone pressed to her ear. “Where are you going?”
“I don’t know,” I said. It was the truth.
She sighed again. “Joe, I can hear the announcements in the background. I know you’re at the airport.”
The terminal was thick with travelers, luggage and chaos. The lines were long at the counters and the voice in the loudspeaker was saying something about a delayed flight.
I stepped out through the sliding doors into the cool morning air, the sun shining brightly across PCH on the harbor.
“I don’t know where I’m going,” I repeated. “Honestly, Lauren. I just need to go.”
There was a long pause on her end and for a moment, I thought she’d hung up.
“Will you let me know where you end up?” she finally asked. “Just send me an email, a text or something? So I know you’re okay?”
“I will,” I said. “I promise.”
“And think about coming back,” she said. “Not long term. But maybe for a long weekend. Or maybe I could meet you somewhere. No strings.”
“I love you, Lauren,” I said, squinting into the sunlight. “I’ll call you.”
She hung up without saying anything.
I shoved the phone into my pocket, the hunger from before replaced with something that I couldn’t define, just something that hurt.
I thought about doing the goodbye thing. Find Lauren, find Chuck, find Gina, find everyone I’d connected with over the previous few days and say goodbye. But I knew that I’d be tempted to stay, to think that I could overcome the past that punched me in the face every day I woke up in San Diego.
I knew better and drove myself straight to the airport before I changed my mind, turned in my rental car and strapped on my backpack.
The envelope Mike had given me was folded up in the pocket of my jeans and I pulled it out. I hadn’t opened it. When I’d gotten back to the hotel, I’d stared at it for a few minutes before deciding that I needed sleep before confronting whatever it held.
I knew that whatever was inside probably wouldn’t lead to finding Elizabeth. But there was always that microscopic chance that it would. I’d spent the previous years jumping at just those chances. Following up on them was the only thing that got me to sleep at night, knowing that I wasn’t leaving anything to chance.
Meredith was back home. She’d been found. Seeing her with Jordan reminded me of how much I wanted to be that father, the father reunited with his daughter.
When Lauren asked me where I was headed, I hadn’t lied to her. I didn’t have a plan. I didn’t know where I was going, only that wherever I went, I’d go back to thinking about Elizabeth.
I unfolded the envelope, fingered the dull creases in it.
I slid my finger carefully under the flap and unsealed it. I pulled out a folded-over photo with a note attached to it.
Found this in a file. You'd know better than I would, but it was close enough to pass on to you. I'd have followed it myself if you hadn't come to town. Let me know if I can help. ML.
That was followed by the name Jacob Detwiler and a Minneapolis address.
I removed the note from the photo and unfolded the picture.
Two young girls, maybe ten years old, sitting on what looked to me like a bus bench. There was snow on the ground and both girls wore hooded sweatshirts and jeans. They sat close together, their faces devoid of expression. Their arms were linked.
I folded the picture with trembling fingers. The floor swayed a bit and I had trouble breathing as I looked for a place to sit. An icy sweat formed on my neck. I knew better than to get my hopes up. I had learned the hard way. But sometimes things showed up that couldn't prevent it, couldn't save me from the heartache.
I sat down and tried to catch my breath, wondering how fast I could get to Minneapolis.
I unfolded the picture again.
The photo was grainy, out of focus and shadowy, probably taken around dusk. But I knew Elizabeth's face.
And for the first time in forever, she was staring back at me.