I realized today I have to do something drastic. Austin thinks I’m crazy, but in the end he understands why. He grew up with a dysfunctional family too. I guess that’s why he’s willing to help me. Part of me wishes I could talk to Mom about this, but I have no reason whatsoever to believe her word after finding out she had been lying to me practically my entire life. It’s not like there’s anyone I can talk to who hasn’t been a total fraud my whole life. The only way forward is on my own. But I’m afraid. Terrified. This whole thing…what am I supposed to make of it? Would it be safer just to ignore it? That is, if that’s even possible. No, knowing myself, I can’t just ignore it. I have to do something, but at the moment, I’m afraid to do what it takes to know the truth. God, why did I have to see that stupid picture?

It was from Vera’s journal.

“Vera was here, Oliver.” My daughter had been here while I was inside the restaurant. One hundred feet away, I was arguing with her daddy while she was placing a note on my car.

“Unless it’s from the person who took her,” Oliver replied. “A message of some sort.”

I shook my head. “No, you’re wrong. Why send a message now, six months after she disappeared? It has to be Vera. She’s reaching out, wanting to come home but afraid to.” Yes, that’s what it was, I convinced myself.

“I don’t know, Felicity…” Oliver wasn’t buying it, but this was more than anything Detective Montgomery had uncovered in the past six months. This was hope.

“She might still be in the neighborhood, if she’s on foot,” I said. “You go that way.”

“Felicity, it’s a waste—”

“Just do it!”

Shaking his head, Oliver walked toward the other end of the parking lot where it dipped down into a hilly tree line.

Clutching the paper to my heart, I looked up the vacant street for any sign of life. Nobody, just a homeless man lying in the doorway of a closed bakery. Then I looked the opposite direction…

A young woman, a petite blonde, walked briskly along the sidewalk, her back to me. The swish of her hair, the confident stride, the way she hunched her shoulders up against the cold. And that purse. Vera had one just like it.

I took off after her, fast-walking, staying in the shadows, careful not to spook her. She turned her head quickly, too quickly for a good look, and noticeably quickened her pace. If it wasn’t Vera, why was she running from me?

Please be Vera. I need it to be Vera!

“Vera! Please stop! I just want to talk to you!”