by Jeff Shelby
I didn't waste any time or mince words. “I think someone in the Coronado P.D. was involved in my daughter's abduction.”
If that shocked him, he didn't show it. He took another bite of his sandwich and waited.
“Most of what I've got is circumstantial,” I said quickly. “Nothing hard. But my gut is telling me someone inside was a part of it. Two names in particular.” I paused. “You still interested?”
He picked up his napkin and wiped at his mouth. He set it back in his lap and nodded. “I'm listening.”
As he continued to eat, I explained to him where my suspicions came from, going all the way back to how Bazer treated me when Elizabeth first disappeared. I covered all of the details, even the smallest ones, in order to give him a full picture of what had gone on in the previous few weeks. I wanted him to know that what I was telling him wasn't just some crackpot theory or some out of left field idea I'd concocted in order to deal with the trauma of having a child taken from me. I needed him to know that I'd spent hours thinking it through and that what I was telling him was a genuine possibility. It might have been wrong, but there was plausibility to my theory.
He pushed his plate to the side, balled his napkin up and tossed it on the plate. He leaned back in the booth. “That's a lot of shit, Mr. Tyler.”
“Joe. And, yeah. It's a lot of shit.”
He folded his arms across his chest and stared hard at me. “You're missing one big piece, though.”
“What's that?”
“The why,” he said. “You can draw some lines between your daughter and Bazer and Lorenzo, but you don't have any lines to the why. Why would either of them take your daughter?”
“I don't know,” I admitted. “And I know. I am missing the why. It's the one thing I can't get a handle on and it's probably the most important piece.”
He nodded. “Agreed.”
“So I need to know if there is a why,” I said. “Because if there isn't a why, then it probably doesn't matter if I'm right about my theory or not. I won't be able to prove a thing.”
He nodded again. “It won't hold water.”
It was my turn to nod. “Agreed.”
“So then this is when you tell me why I'm here,” he said.
The waitress came and cleared our plates, asked if we needed anything else. We both shook our heads and she dropped the check on the table.
I reached for the folded piece of paper, slid it toward me. “I need someone who can poke around. On the inside. Someone who can ask questions without drawing too much attention. Someone who can tell the difference between bullshit and the truth.” I paused. “And someone willing to stick their nose into something that might be pretty goddamn ugly.”
He held my gaze from the other side of the table and I couldn't read him.
He unfolded his arms and laid his hands flat on the table. “Why me? You don't know me. You don't know my history. Why are you asking me? And why do you trust me?” He shrugged. “Maybe I won't keep my mouth shut. Maybe I'll call Bazer as soon as I walk out of here and tell him he's got a former cop out to get him.” His eyes narrowed. “Why me?”
It was a completely fair question and I would've been surprised if he hadn't asked it.
“You cut us loose,” I said.
“What do you mean?”
“When you stopped us,” I said. “You made the stop. You listened to me. You had to make some quick decisions. You didn't worry about pissing off a superior by making the wrong decision or think you were smarter than the situation by drawing the whole thing out longer than it already was. You saw what was on the table, you made a decision and that was that.” I shrugged. “There was no bullshit. No jerking a chain to jerk a chain. You did your job. And helped me find my daughter.”
His expression was still neutral, his eyes still on mine.
“So I trust you,” I said. “I trust you to tell me if I'm right and I trust you to tell me if I'm wrong. Either way. And that's what I need. Someone who doesn't give a shit about department politics and will do the right thing, whatever that is.” I paused. “Am I out on a limb here because I really don't know you? Probably. But I trust my gut. I trust you.”
He looked away from me, toward the front window of the deli. I didn't think he was looking for anything specific, just thinking over what I'd said. Probably trying to make up his mind as to whether or not I was worth sticking his neck out for. I didn't blame him for that. If he decided to help me, there was no going back. Cops didn't like cops questioning from within. There was a reason most cops hated Internal Affairs. So just by asking Lasko, I was putting him in a tough situation.
He slid out of the booth and stood at the edge of the table, stuck out his hand. “Thanks for lunch.”
We shook. “You're welcome.”
He pulled a pair of sunglasses from his pocket and set them on top of his head. “I'll be in touch, Joe.”
I watched him walk out of the deli and I had no idea what he meant.
THREE
I left downtown, but instead of heading back toward Coronado, I pointed my car inland, toward Kearney Mesa. The midday traffic was non-existent and it was one of the few times that the time it took to get to Kearney Mesa was actually commensurate with the distance. Twenty minutes after leaving downtown, I was exiting the freeway and pulling up to a low-slung building near Montgomery Field that served as the San Diego field office for the FBI.
I took the elevator to the second floor and told the desk clerk that even though I didn't have an appointment, I was hoping that Special Agent Dorothy Blundell might be inclined to meet with me. The clerk looked skeptical and asked me to have a seat. Three minutes later, Blundell was in the lobby.
“Mr. Tyler,” she said. “Nice to see you again.”
I nodded and we shook hands. She motioned for me to follow her and led me to the same conference room we'd used when we'd brought Elizabeth in after we'd rescued her from the warehouse in the south bay. Blundell took the seat at the head of the table and I sat down in the one to her left.
“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.
“How'd you feel this morning?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes. “Shitty. I ate a bowl of cereal and half a banana and it stayed down for all of five minutes.”
“I remember how sick you were with Elizabeth.”
“The entire first trimester.”
I nodded. “You couldn't look at milk or cereal.”
Her expression softened. “It's starting to feel that way again.”
“But dinner stayed down okay?”
She nodded. “So far.”
Lauren was pregnant. With our child. The result of a night spent in a hotel as we got closer to finding Elizabeth. We'd gotten divorced because our daughter's disappearance had created a gaping wound in our relationship, but that didn't mean that we'd stopped loving one another. Loving each other just became harder when Elizabeth was gone and when we'd reconnected, a lot of those unresolved feelings had surfaced. We'd been careless. Now, she was pregnant and neither one of us seemed to want to deal with that as our new reality.
“I didn't mean to snap at you,” she said.
“It's alright.”
“But the thought of her going back there is...” She shook her head. “I can't even fathom it.”
“I know.”
“What did you tell her?”
“I told her we'd talk about it. Me and you.”
“So does this count?”
“Sure.”
“Joe.”
I shrugged. “Look, she wasn't unreasonable when we talked about it. I get it. I don't like it, but I get it. I mean, her stuff is still there, you know? Clothes, books, whatever. That's her stuff, no matter who we are or who the Corzines are. She had a life there. It may have been a false life, but to her it was real.” I paused. “She's a kid who is probably pretty screwed up right now and I think we owe it to her to at least think about it. To talk to her about it.”
Lauren folded her arms across her chest, stared down at her lap. “Right now is excruciating.”
“What do you mean?”
“She's upstairs in her room,” she explained. “And all I want to do is go check on her every five minutes, make sure she's still there. But I know we can't. I know we can't. But right now? Part of me is in panic mode, wondering if she's up there.”
“I know,” I said. “I know.” It was the reason I got up every night, trying to be quiet as I stumbled down the hallway to peek into her bedroom.
“So I can't even think about letting her go to Minnesota,” she said, glancing at me. “Because I can't think about letting her go to the mailbox alone right now.”
“We have to start dealing with it,” I said. “We have to figure out school. We have to figure out a lot of things.”
“I can't think about Minnesota yet, Joe. I just can't.”
“Okay.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes.
“Will you lay with me for a bit?” she asked tentatively. I looked at her and saw the dark circles under her eyes, the pinched corners of her mouth.
I nodded and got up from the chair. I crawled on to the bed and laid down next to her. She turned to the side so her back was to me and reached for my hand, pulling my arm over her. She wiggled closer until she was tight against my body. She folded her fingers into mine.
It wasn't a romantic or sexual gesture. It was one of comfort, one of familiarity. She didn't want to be alone and I didn't mind laying with her.
We did, in fact, have a lot things to figure out.
FIVE
Elizabeth and I went for our run the next morning. She didn't ask about Minnesota and I didn't bring it up. Instead, we enjoyed the sun peeking through the clouds, the blue ocean and the white sand as she once again beat me to the finish. It was an easy morning, one that made it seem like she'd never been gone, one that I wished would happen more frequently.