Valdez leaned back in his chair and recrossed his legs, thinking.

“You know this for sure?” he asked after a moment.

I shook my head. “Not for sure, no. I’m trying to link things together and this is as far as I’ve gotten. But my guess, based on everything I’ve been able to put together, is that the person we’re speaking of sold my daughter to pay back the debt owed to you.” I paused again. “He literally took Elizabeth from my front yard, sold her to someone else, and then made good on his debt to you.”

Valdez shifted in the chair, then rubbed at his chin, his eyes moving to some far off spot on the other side of the room.

I waited.

“Elizabeth,” he said. “Do you spell that with a z?”

“Yes.”

He nodded slowly. “I see.” He tapped his index finger to his lips, like he was pointing a gun at the ceiling. “You have given me something to think about, Mr. Tyler.”

Disappointment settled in my gut. “Have I?”

He nodded. “Yes. I am not happy to learn about this. As I said, we have rules. And if this person did what you think he did, then…” He stopped and stared at me for a long moment. “Then we are indirectly responsible for your daughter’s disappearance. And this displeases me. Greatly.”

“I didn’t mean to insinuate that you or your people were responsible,” I said quickly. “That was not my intention here. I only wish to know the identity of the person you worked with. He is the person I hold responsible.”

He nodded. “Yes. But still. I’m not happy that we may have been somewhat responsible for your pain.” He took a deep breath, his broad chest rising, then falling. “Can you leave me a phone number?”

I pulled my wallet from the pocket of my pants, extracted one of my cards and slid it across the table to him. “It’s my cell. I’m the only one who answers it.”

Valdez picked up the card, examined it, then slid it to the side. “I am not promising anything, Mr. Tyler. Just so you understand. There are others whose opinions matter as well. But I will present to them what you’ve shared with me and see if there’s anything we can do to help you.”

I stood, disappointed that he hadn’t given me a name, but grateful that he hadn’t slammed the door, either. “That’s all I can ask for. And I’ve taken up enough of your time already.”

Valdez pushed out of the chair and stood. We shook hands.

“I will be in touch,” Valdez said. “Either way.”

“I appreciate it.”

I headed for the door.

“An s,” Valdez said.

I looked at him, my hand on the doorknob. “I’m sorry?”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “My middle daughter. Her name is Elisabeth, too. But we spell it with an s.” He nodded. “Good afternoon, Mr. Tyler.”

THIRTY SIX

Simmons and Benning drove me home. They didn’t ask about lunch, didn’t ask how the conversation went, and they didn’t ask if I needed anything else. They pulled into the drive, unlocked the doors, said it was nice to meet me and drove away as soon as I was out of the car. I appreciated the ride, but I was agitated that I didn’t feel any closer to knowing what happened to Elizabeth and I wondered if I was just going to have to let it all go. I’d made the promise to myself that I would do exactly that if I didn’t have it solved by the time the girls came home and I wasn’t going to waver from that.

The window of time was closing quickly.

But I felt like there wasn’t much more to do other than wait now. I’d exhausted my options. I’d spoken to everyone on my list. I’d done the legwork. Sometimes, there was nothing to do but wait and I felt I’d reached that point. Even when it was the last thing I wanted to do, waiting was my only option.

I made lunch, a sandwich I only nibbled at, and cleaned up the kitchen. I checked my emails and responded to the ones I could, once again reminding myself that if I was out of the investigating business, I needed to put the word out there, so people could look elsewhere for someone to help them. I checked Elizabeth’s room, which was still clean from when I’d cleaned it earlier in the week, and I checked the laundry, confirming that there was still nothing in the washer or dryer awaiting attention.

I wasn’t good at waiting.

I felt stifled and claustrophobic in the house, so I grabbed my phone and wallet and decided to walk in to downtown Coronado.

The streets were quiet in the mid-afternoon, the hustle and bustle missing from the weekends and early evenings. Fewer cars were parked along the streets and the bikes that I saw were locked up rather than whizzing along the road. I remembered taking Elizabeth on late afternoon walks in the stroller when she was a toddler, knowing that I could unbuckle her and let her roam on the sidewalks in front of the stores without her getting in anyone’s way. My parents had done the same with me.

I walked down the boulevard and over to the Hotel Del, the stately white and red hotel that was arguably the most iconic place in all of San Diego. I walked through the opulent lobby, beneath the massive chandelier and found my way out to the back deck. It had been remodeled with a new bar and grill that offered comfortable lounge furniture and a breathtaking, unobstructed view of the Pacific.

The aroma of food made my stomach growl and I ordered a beer and a hamburger before sitting down on one of the couches. The small fire pit was ablaze even though it was afternoon and not that chilly. I was halfway done with the beer when the burger arrived and I was halfway done with the burger when Mike Lorenzo sat down in the chair across from me.

He leaned back in the chair, looking tired and irritated. “How’s the burger?”

“Good. Like always.”

“I thought you’d be full from lunch.”

“Lunch?”

“Mexican food?”

The hair stood at attention on the back of my neck. “You following me now?”

“When you’re doing stupid shit like meeting with Mario Valdez, yeah.”

I set the burger down on the plate and pushed it away. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“And I’m not helping,” he said. “I just wanna know why you’d be so stupid as to meet with one of the five most dangerous guys in Mexico.”

“I had my reasons.”

“Let me guess. Elizabeth.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” I said. “Why were you following me?”

He pushed himself up in the chair. “Because you’ve frozen me out, Joe. I have no idea what you’re doing and it pisses me off.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“The hell it isn’t.” He shrugged. “So until you decide to open your mouth and let me in on whatever it is you’re doing, I’m watching.” He smiled. “And there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it.”

I picked up the beer from the table. “So you’ve been what? Running a tail on me? Tapping my phone? What?”

He didn’t say anything.

I looked past him at the ocean. The waves were sloppy, uneven, messy. The breeze had picked up and was rolling over the top of the water, pushing it in different directions.

I looked back at Mike. “Did you have anything to do with Elizabeth’s disappearance?”

He tilted his head to the side, squinting at me with the tired eyes. “What?”

“Were you involved with Elizabeth’s abduction? In any way?”

He stared at me for a few moments, then shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just ask that.”

“Why? I’m asking it.”

“Hey, Joe?”

“What?”

He opened his eyes. “Fuck you.”

I shrugged. “Still haven’t answered my question.”

“Because I don’t fucking need to,” he said. “You know the answer.”

“Actually, I don’t. Not anymore.”

He stayed silent for awhile, his eyes looking past me. Then they refocused. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he finally said.

“I’m not.”

He sat there, staring at me like he’d never seen me before. Then he stood and put his hands in his pockets.

“I had nothing to do with Elizabeth’s disappearance,” he said, his voice low, tight with anger. “I shouldn’t have to say that. But I didn’t. No idea where this is coming from, but you want an answer, there it is.”