After ten minutes, I handed the yearbook back to Tim.

“No luck?”

I shook my head.

I opened the last one and paged to the fifth grade section. I found Bailey Detwiler again. Big smile on her face. Her hair in braids. Definitely the girl in the photo with Elizabeth.

I started back at the beginning of the class. Kids with braces, some sulking, some seemingly caught in mid-smile or looking just off to the side. Fifth grade kids who hadn’t reached those awkward, sullen middle-school years. They were still excited for picture day and smiled wildly for the camera.

And on the fourth page, third row down, fifth kid in, I found my daughter.

I inhaled sharply, needle-like shock coursing through me. I forced my eyes to focus on the image in front of me.

Her hair was pulled back away from her face and she was missing a bottom tooth, just near the left corner of her mouth. Her smile seemed forced, like someone had told her to smile. She was wearing a dark-colored t-shirt in the black and white photo.

And she was identified as Ellie Corzine.

But there was no doubt.

Ellie Corzine was Elizabeth Tyler.

My daughter.

THIRTY-EIGHT

I traced the photo with my shaking finger. “This is her,” I said slowly. “This is Elizabeth.”

Tim arched an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

My heart rate went into overdrive, even as I tried to calm myself and remind myself it was just a picture. I didn’t have her back.

Yet.

I nodded. “Ellie Corzine. That’s not her name. Her name’s Elizabeth Tyler. But this is her.”

He leaned forward across the desk and turned the yearbook so he could see. “No doubt?”

“I know my own daughter.”

My voice must have had an edge to it because Tim sat back in his chair and had his hands up, cautioning me to take it easy. “Okay, I gotcha. But if I’m gonna open up someone’s file and share info, it could get me fired. So I want to make sure the one I open is the one that will help you.”

“Sorry,” I said. “Right. Yeah. I’m sure this is her. No doubt.”

Tim nodded and swung toward his computer, his fingers tapping at the keyboard. “Only way I can direct access student and family files is on this computer. Would be pointless for me to try from anywhere else. But looking up families and addresses is pretty routine. Shouldn’t raise any flags.”

I kept my finger on Elizabeth’s photo. I kept tracing the outline. I wondered what she knew. I wondered if she was sad. Or worse for me, happy. I wanted to pull her out of the photo and take her home to Lauren.

And it gave me hope, taking me back to Rodney’s belief about her. Yes, the picture was old. I understood that. But it also meant that she wasn’t one of the unfortunate victims killed immediately by an abductor. Whoever had taken her didn’t kill her. She’d been alive for at least two years after I’d last seen her.

That was as much hope as I’d been given since the day she’d disappeared.

“Corzine, Ellie,” Tim said, staring at the screen. “Was enrolled that year. Listed as a move-in to the district. Says she was homeschooled prior to that. No siblings. Parents listed as Valerie and Alex Corzine. Address in district boundary.”  He squinted at the screen. “Completed at Hawkins, moved onto Barrington Middle School and completed there.”  He paused, turned to me. “Currently a junior at Brookdale High School.”

My breath caught. I couldn’t swallow. My stomach churned.

Currently a junior at Brookdale High School.

Alive.

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I couldn’t organize the thoughts racing through my head. I felt paralyzed.

Tim grabbed a piece of paper and wrote quickly on it. “I’m giving you the home address and the school address, but I’ll tell you right now—no way you’ll get on campus and I can’t do anything to get you on.”

“Why not?” I asked, my voice sounding foreign to me.

“Two reasons. One, our campuses are as secure as any school campus out there,” he said. “No one just walks in and starts exploring, not even parents. Doors are locked and IDs are run through a system before you can go anywhere. If you don’t have a reason to be there, you’re going to be sent packing.”

“I’ve got a reason to be there.”

“I get that. But to the office and school personnel? No, you don’t.”

I shifted in the seat. “What’s the other reason?”

“I gave you the info,” he said, frowning. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy to help. I trust Isabel, like I told you. But giving out information on a student in our district? You go in there and say you just came from my office, I’m done and there are gonna be all sorts of hurdles for you to get to your daughter.”

My fingers tingled and my heart hammered inside my chest. I tried to organize everything racing through my head.

The printer buzzed behind him and he pulled a sheet of paper off the tray, examined it, then handed it to me. “There’s her info sheet. There’s a home address and phone number on there as well. You want my advice?”

I didn’t, but Tim had helped me more than anyone had over the last eight years. “Okay.”

“Call the police and go to the home,” he said, his hands folded on his desk. “I’m sure the temptation is to go bull-rush the school and find her. I don’t blame you. But making a scene at the school is not what you want.”

I nodded slowly, staring at the paper he handed me. An address and a phone number. Where Elizabeth lived.

“I’ve seen custody disputes before at schools,” Tim explained. “I know it’s not the same thing, but a parent shows up, wanting to see their kid and for whatever reason, they aren’t allowed because of a custodial agreement or whatever.” He waved a hand in the air. “The cops get called, the school will lock down, the child will be embarrassed and it all goes to shit.” He paused. “Like I said. I know that isn’t your situation, but hopefully, you can see what I’m saying.”

I did. He wasn’t just covering his ass. He was making sense.

“Call the police or whatever authorities are involved in your daughter’s search,” he said. “That’s the best course of action.”

I stood. “Thank you. I won’t get you in trouble.”

Tim stood as well. “I’d appreciate that. If you can’t, you can’t and I’ll deal.” He shook his head. “Can’t imagine what you’ve gone through and I hope it works out.”

I extended my hand. “I’ll let Isabel know you were able to help.”

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.