I stepped back onto the sidewalk.

Boyd stayed on the car.

I moved my eyes to Stevie.

He held his hands up, like he wanted nothing to do with me. He wasn’t scared, just didn’t want to tangle at that moment. “Hey, man. We’re cool.”

“Get your friend and go,” I said.

He helped Boyd up and whispered something to him that I couldn’t make out. They headed down the sidewalk away from us, Boyd glancing over his shoulder at me.

As they walked away, I had no doubt that we were anything but cool.

SIX

“What’s your cell number?” Isabel asked, opening the door to her car.

I told her.

She fished her phone from the console in her car, punched some numbers on it, then looked at me. “I just sent you a contact.”

My phone vibrated in my pocket.

“She works at DCFS,” she said. “If she can’t get you information on Bailey, she’ll know who can. Call her tomorrow morning. I’ll call her tonight and give her a heads-up that you’ll be contacting her.”

“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”

“And maybe we could meet up at some point tomorrow?” she said. “Talk a little bit more about Marc?”

I lifted my chin in the direction we’d just come from. “Maybe tell me about those guys?”

She played with the zipper on the jacket. “Don’t worry about them. But thanks. For what you did. You didn’t need to, though.”

She was clearly uncomfortable talking about them and I didn’t want to push her. It was none of my business. But there was more to it than she was willing to tell me.

“Sure. Tomorrow,” I said.

“And I’m guessing you need a place to stay,” she said.

“I’ll find a place.”

She reached into her bag and fumbled around a bit, the pulled out a key and card. “Here.”

“I can find a place.”

She frowned. “My little endeavor doesn’t exactly pay the bills, so I’m a property manager for a small complex. Over in Linden Hills. It’s not far from here. We’ve always got empties.”  She thrust the key at me. “If you feel like you have to pay me, we can work it out later. But you’ll have more space than in a hotel room and you’ll have a kitchen. It’s not furnished, but I should be able to get my hands on some furniture and other things tomorrow.”

I hesitated, then took the key and the card. “Okay. Thanks.”

She nodded. “Address is on the card. Call me if you have trouble finding it. Otherwise, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

She got into her car and drove off.

I stood there at the curb for awhile, letting the snow fall around me, watching cars crawl up and down the street as the sky moved from gray to black.

I wasn’t sure where to go, what to do. I’d come to Minneapolis because of a picture and an address. The address, thus far, had led to nothing. Yeah, I’d found Jacob Detwiler, but that hadn’t done me much good. Maybe it would, but I wasn’t very good at being patient. I wanted something immediately.

I pulled the picture out of my pocket, unfolded it.

I traced Elizabeth’s face.

For the millionth time, I wondered where exactly she was.

SEVEN

Linden Hills was about a twenty-five minute drive from downtown, out to the west, near an area called Chain of Lakes. The drive was wet and messy and crowded, but the road crews were already out in force, sanding and salting the streets in preparation for the overnight temperatures.

In a lot of ways, Linden Hills reminded me of Coronado. It was a small, walkable area, with tiny Mom and Pop shops surrounded by funky old homes and buildings that had been turned into apartments. In the summer, I imagined people in their twenties zipping around on bicycles and filling the outdoor patios on the streets, sipping coffee and eating ice cream. Suburbia, with a whole lot of urban.

I found Isabel’s complex atop one of the rolling hills, a rectangular brick building that housed about twenty units. The key was stamped with a “188” and I found the unit at the end of a hallway on the first floor.

It was a one bedroom with a small kitchen and bathroom and not a single piece of furniture. But it was clean and smelled of fresh paint and new carpeting. I opened the slider off the living room and stepped out onto the patio that looked back and down toward the small, downtown area, the snow having tapered off against the black sky. The streets were wet with slush and the few souls out walking huddled under the collars of their coats, moving between the light of the streetlamps.

I took a deep breath and watched the air from my lungs billow out like a small cloud.

Isabel had been nice to set me up and it was more space than I needed. I knew I could be comfortable here for as long as I needed to be.

As comfortable as I could be, anyway.

A bus roared down the avenue, spewing dirty slush from the street onto the sidewalk.

I knew I would help her try to find Marc. She probably knew it, too. Probably knew she was locking me in as soon as I took the key from her hand. Again, you leveraged what and when you could.

I didn’t mind. I knew I couldn’t focus entirely on Elizabeth. I needed distractions when there was nothing to do but wait. Helping Isabel locate Marc would provide those distractions.

The snow started to fall again, small, white dots cascading from the dark sky.

I stood there awhile longer, hoping Elizabeth was warm, wherever she was.

EIGHT

I slept decently on the new carpeting, using my jacket as a pillow. Sunshine poured in through the window and I squinted into the morning light. I washed my face in the bathroom sink, ran a hand through my hair and went outside.

The icy air stung my lungs and the sun was brilliant against the snow-coated sidewalks. I knocked as much snow off of the rental car as I could and navigated my way out of the parking lot, the wheels spinning a few extra times against the asphalt before they caught.

Patience had never been a strength of mine and after Elizabeth disappeared, it was almost as if every ounce I’d had was surgically removed from my body. Isabel asked me to call her friend before going to see her, but I didn’t want to wait until mid-day. If I had to wait once I got there, that would still be better than pacing and waiting to leave.

The DCFS office was in downtown Minneapolis and after thirty minutes and a few wrong turns, I located the building. I parked in a garage situated between the tall buildings and found my way to a large stone structure that looked exactly like every other government building I’d ever seen. I stepped into the waiting area where a bored-looking woman peered at me from behind thick gray eyeglasses.

“Help you?” she asked with a tone that indicated she didn’t want to.

“I’m looking for Tess Gorman,” I said, reciting the name Isabel gave me.

“You have an appointment?”

“No.”

“You need an appointment to see her.”

“Is she in?”

The woman sighed, tugged at her glasses. “You need an appointment, sir.”

“Okay. I’d like to make an appointment for right now.”

“She’s two weeks out.”

I glanced at the beaten chair to my right. “I have to sit in that for two weeks?”

The woman sighed and folded her hands on her desk. “Sir, if you’d like to make an appointment, I can make one for you. It will be about two weeks from now. If you’d like to play games and mess with me, I’ll have to call security.”

She looked like a woman who was used to calling security.

“I’m from out of town,” I said. “Is it possible you could call her and tell her that a friend of hers sent me to see her?”

“Who is your friend?” she asked, raising her eyebrows above the glasses. “Oprah?  Madonna?

I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I was rude. Isabel Balzone referred me.”

A flash of recognition ran through her face. “Ms. Balzone referred you?”

“She gave me Tess Gorman’s name, yes.”