“That’s great,” I said. “I’ll take a look and see if I can find him at one of those. Thank you so much.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” Kelly said. Her smile grew bigger. “Did you want to leave a message or anything? I’ll be sure to get it to him if you miss him.”

“No, that’s alright, but thank you,” I said. “I left him those voicemails. That should be good. We’ll run into each other here soon enough. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome,” she said again. “Hope you find him!”

As I exited the lobby, so did I.

FOUR

The black pick-up truck with Minnesota license plates was parked right in front of the diner.

We’d stopped at the Starbucks and bagel place first. I’d walked into each, scanned the faces and didn’t see anyone who looked familiar. Lauren checked the parking lot and came up empty.

But I saw the truck before we even turned into the diner’s lot. Front and center, the blue and white plates flashing like a neon sign. I had the door open before Lauren even got the car parked.

I breathed in the icy air, let it sting my lungs for a moment, then exhaled a small, cold cloud. My heart thumped against my rib cage. I rolled my shoulders, trying to shake out the tension in my muscles.

Lauren got out and stood next to me in the lot. “Has to be it, right?”

I nodded and walked toward the truck. I saw a GPS on the seat, an empty soda bottle in the holder and a few loose papers on the floorboards. The doors were locked.

“Jesus, Joe,” Lauren whispered. “This is it.”

“Maybe,” I said, trying not to get too confident. But I knew what I was thinking, what I was feeling.

I was sure that was the truck.

The empty leads, the cases I’d worked to pass the time until I found the next hint that might help me find my daughter—all of those things had led me right to this moment. Standing outside of a diner in a Denver suburb, the wind biting my cheeks and hands as I reached for the door handle. Every thought I’d ever had about reuniting with Elizabeth collided in my chest as my fingers connected with the metal handle.

This was it.

I held the door open for Lauren and we stepped into the small shop. The warm air inside enveloped us, smelling of toasted bread and strong coffee. A line about six deep snaked next to the counter and several of the small tables were occupied by people reading the newspaper and sipping coffee.

Except for the one next to the front window.

That table was occupied by a tall, thin kid, staring absently at the bagel on his plate, picking at it with his fingers. His dirty-blond hair was uncombed and brushed forward and I couldn’t tell if he’d styled it that way on purpose. The purple, Minnesota Vikings hooded sweatshirt he wore looked too big for him.

The chair across from him was empty.

We stood there for a moment and I scanned all of the faces again.

None belonged to Elizabeth.

“Go check the bathroom,” I said to Lauren.

She nodded wordlessly and walked to a small door near the pick-up end of the counter. She opened it, peered inside and shut it. She turned to me, her face the color of chalk, and shook her head.

Nothing.

I shrugged off the disappointment welling up in my gut and zeroed in on the guy in the Vikings sweatshirt.

I slid into the chair across from him and he looked up at me, startled. Dark brown eyes, a couple days worth of stubble and a small gap between his upper front teeth.

“Yeah?” he asked, both irritated and confused.

“Bryce?” I asked.

He sat up straighter and his gaze flickered to Lauren as she approached. She stood next to us, her hand on her purse, her expression anxious.

“Bryce Ponder, right?” I said.

He glanced at me. He didn’t need to answer. Just the way he’d tensed up when I’d said his name told me we’d found Elizabeth’s boyfriend.

“Who are you?” he asked, glancing around, unsure what to do.

I ignored his question. “Where’s your girlfriend?”

His suspicion ratcheted up another notch and he sat back in the chair. “What?”

I looked at Lauren. Her eyes were moving all around the diner, still looking at people and faces. Still looking for Elizabeth.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” I repeated.

He didn’t say anything.

“Ellie Corzine?” I said, the name tasting sour as it came off my tongue. “Your girlfriend?”

Anger flared in his eyes. “Who the hell are you?”

“If I have to ask you again where she is, you’re going to have a difficult time answering with a broken jaw,” I said, leveling my eyes at him. “You’ll have to write it down.”

He glared at me and folded his arms across his chest.

Lauren rested her hand on my shoulder. Her signal to stay under control.

I was trying. Sort of.

“I don’t know who you are,” he said. “And I don’t have to talk to you.”

A waitress stopped by the table. Her eyes were tired, ringed with dark circles, like she’d gotten in early or pulled the late night shift.

“You folks need anything?” she asked, nodding her graying head toward me and Lauren.

“No, we’re good,” I said.

She nodded again and leaned over to refill Bryce’s coffee mug. It was still three-quarters full.

The waitress left and Lauren spoke. “We’re her parents. Ellie’s parents.”

He stared at her, no recognition in his face. “No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, we are,” she said. “And, trust me, I can only hold him off for so long.” She inclined her head in my direction. “It might not be your jaw but he’ll break some part of you if you don’t talk. So if I were you, I’d start answering the questions.”

He sat there silently, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he looked back and forth between us.

“Her name is Elizabeth Tyler,” I said, unable to stand his silence. “She was taken from us. Years ago. She ended up with the Corzines. And you were helping her run away. Any of this sound familiar?”

Something flashed through his eyes and he leaned forward, placing his hands on the table as if to balance himself. “Holy shit.”

“Pretty much.”

He sagged in his chair. “I…I thought she was exaggerating,” he said, staring down at his hands. “I didn’t think…”

“Where is she?” I asked again. “Is she with you?”

“Yeah,” he said, then shook his head. “I mean, no. She was. But she left.”

Another kick to the stomach. Lauren’s hand tightened on my shoulder. “Where is she?”

Bryce was still staring at his hands. “Man. I didn’t think it was true.” He looked at me, then Lauren. “You’re really her parents?”

We both nodded.

“Do her parents know?” he asked, then his face flushed. “I mean, her other parents. Or whatever.”

“They know,” Lauren said. “It’s how we found you here. They directed us to your house. We talked to your parents, too.”

His eyes narrowed. “You talked to my parents?”

Lauren nodded.

“But they didn’t even know we were coming here,” he said. He brushed at his hair, then let it fall back against his forehead. “Hell, I didn’t know we were coming here.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, my patience wearing thin.

“What did my parents say?” he asked. Before either of us could respond, he smirked and said, “Let me guess. ‘Bryce sucks’?”

I took a deep breath. “If you don’t stop answering my questions with your own, I’m going to walk you outside and break your jaw like I promised.”

He frowned, more annoyed than afraid. “Yeah, okay. Sorry.” He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. “I didn’t know we were coming here. Ellie just said she wanted to get out of Minnesota. That she was pissed at her parents. That she was adopted.” He looked at each of us. “But I thought she was just upset, you know? I didn’t think she actually was. Adopted, I mean. I thought she meant it to be funny or something. An excuse. Just something to get out of town.”

I glanced around the restaurant again. Older faces. Small children. No Elizabeth, though. He wasn’t talking fast enough and we were losing time.