“Anything to drink?” she asked.
“No. Thank you.”
She nodded and swiveled back and forth in the large leather chair, finding an easy rhythm. “How is she?”
“She’s okay.”
She looked at me. “Really?”
“Probably not,” I said. “She’s in limbo, I think.”
Blundell nodded. She picked up a pen, twirled it between her fingers. “To be expected. You’re all getting along?”
“Well enough.”
Blundell nodded again. “Good.”
“She wants to go to Minnesota,” I said. “To see the family.”
She made a face like that didn’t surprise her. “I think that’s normal.”
“It’s hard to hear.”
“I’m sure. But her entire world changed in a matter of days. It may feel normal to you to have her home, but I’d venture that nothing feels normal to her right now.”
She was right. Elizabeth didn’t know what her normal was anymore.
“You think we should let her go?” I asked.
She shrugged. “I can’t make that decision for you.” She paused, eyed me carefully. “In the same way I couldn’t force therapy on her. Has to be her choice. Your family’s choice.”
“I’m asking your opinion.”
She smiled and set the pen down back on the table. “My opinion is that’s for you and her mother to decide.”
“Off the record then.”
“Off the record?” she said, then pursed her lips. “I think you have to give her some room. You’ve elected to keep her out of counseling at this point, so you’re already giving her some room and some say in what goes on. Might not be a bad idea to let her go back and close things up. I wouldn’t let her go alone, obviously. But she needs to say her goodbyes. And it might buy you some goodwill if you trust her.”
I knew she was right, but it was easy to be right when it wasn’t your kid.
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”
“Sure,” she said. “Now, tell me why you’re really here.”
“I wanna know what you know.”
She raised a thin eyebrow at me. “Regarding her abduction?” She shook her head. “Nothing, really. We’re still gathering information.”
“But you have some things.”
She didn’t say anything.
I stayed silent.
“What are you looking for here, Mr. Tyler?” she said finally.
“I’m looking to find out who took my daughter and why they did it,” I answered.
“Why?” she asked. “She’s home. You have her back.”
“Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”
“You aren’t a cop anymore.”
“Irrelevant.”
“Is it?” she asked. “I disagree. Your job now is to take care of your daughter. My job is to find out what happened to her. Those are very different things.”
A plane descended over the runway at Montgomery just outside the window, the sound of its engines muted. I watched until it disappeared from view.
“I found her because I refused to let anyone stop me,” I said. “I’m going to find out what happened to her. She may need closure in Minnesota. But I need closure here.”
“Understandable,” she said. “And when we learn what happened, I’ll share what I can.”
“Off the record again?”
She paused, then nodded.
“I’ve got leads I’m following,” I said.
“Like?”
I shook my head. “I’m not going to share unless you let me in.”
“I can’t do that and you know it.”
I shrugged. “Okay.”
“But it would be in your best interest to share anything you might know,” she said. “I’ve got the resources to follow up and follow through.”
I nodded. “I’m sure.”
We stared at each other.
“I can’t let you in on an investigation,” she said, shaking her head.
“This isn’t just any investigation.”
“To you, no. But to me, to the Bureau?” She smiled. “Every investigation matters. Catching the bad guys is the only acceptable end result. You were a cop. You know that.”
“I also know that doing it the right way isn’t always the best way,” I said. “The best way sometimes involves stepping out of the comfort zone.”
She tapped her fingers on the conference table. “If you’ve got solid info that will help me solve your daughter’s abduction, you should give it to me. That is the best way to help her and to catch whomever is responsible.”
I shrugged. “If I run across anything then, I’ll let you know.”
She leveled her eyes at me. I knew I was being difficult, but I wasn’t about to tell her what I’d told Lasko. She’d approach it differently. She wouldn’t sniff around. She’d barge right in. And if I was right, that might just chase everyone away. If she wasn’t willing to involve me in her investigation, I wasn’t willing to involve her in mine.
I stood. “Are we back on the record?”
She nodded.
I walked toward the day. “Have a nice day, then.”
FOUR
“She asked me about going to Minnesota this morning,” I said.
Lauren was stretched out on her bed, a book in her hands. I was sitting in the large leather chair in the corner of what used to be our master bedroom. I’d moved back into the house, but I was staying in one of the upstairs bedrooms while we figured out exactly what we were.
We’d eaten dinner, the three of us, some small talk in between bites of hamburgers from the backyard grill. It felt forced and yet completely natural, the mood shifting as quickly as the breeze. Elizabeth would smile one moment and then the smile would vanish just as soon as it appeared. She’d disappeared up into her room after we’d finished and, as hard as it was not to follow her up there, we’d reminded ourselves that giving her space was important for all of us.
Lauren set the book down in her lap. “What?”
“She asked if she could go back to Minnesota,” I said. “To talk to the Corzines. Probably to talk to her friends. I don’t know. But she asked if she could go back.”
“To visit?” Lauren asked, still not understanding. “Or to stay? Or to what?”
I shrugged. “To visit, I think. She needs some closure. She took off and then we found her. She was with them for a long time.”
“Illegally,” Lauren said, frowning.
“But she didn’t know that,” I said. “They were her family.”
“Bullshit,” she said, glancing at the door, then lowering her voice. “That’s bullshit, Joe.”
“It was bullshit that she was taken from us,” I said. “But was it bullshit that she thought they were her family?” I shook my head. “I don’t think so. From what we know, they took care of her and she was happy. Based on what she was told.”
Lauren looked as if I’d force-fed her a lemon. “Oh, what the fuck ever. They took our kid and kept her. End of story.”
“Not for Elizabeth it isn’t,” I said. “More like the middle of the story. You’re looking at it from your point of view. You need to look at it from Elizabeth’s.”
“No, I need to look at it from mine,” she said. “And my point of view is that our daughter is home and that’s where she’s staying.”
“Lauren, if…”
“Joe, I don’t want to hear it,” she said, tossing the book off her lap. It landed with a soft thud on the comforter. “And, honest to God, how can you even entertain it? You spent years of your life doing nothing but hunting for her. It nearly broke you. It killed our marriage.” She shook her head. “I mean, you found her. How can you even think of letting her go back there?”
I leaned back in the chair, my head against the cushions, my eyes on the ceiling. It wasn’t that I didn’t have the same knee-jerk reaction as Lauren. If I thought it was possible, I would’ve kept Elizabeth from ever leaving the house again without one of us. But that wasn’t possible. It wasn’t reasonable. And I feared that being unreasonable might drive Elizabeth away.
“I’m trying to think about what’s best for her, Lauren,” I said. “Not what’s best for us.”
“Staying with us is what’s best for her.” She narrowed her eyes. “Not going back to that other family.”
“We aren’t talking about her moving there.”
“No shit we aren’t.”
“Lauren.”
“Joe.”
I sighed. She wasn’t up for hearing it or trying to step into her daughter’s shoes. Pushing it was just going to lead to some unnecessary fight.