THE GRAININESS OF the photo and the fact that it had been taken from more than a few feet away made it impossible to see anything close-up. If it had been a digital picture, Whitney could have zoomed in.

Tucking the photo into her pocket, she secured the lid back on the box and pushed it into the closet. She wanted to march right into the couple’s room and demand to know what their connection to this photo was, but that would be stupid. The only one getting in trouble in that scenario would be her.

Feeling along the wall, she made it to the edge of the hallway. When the toe of her shoe hit something, her gaze lowered to the floor. A discarded pen, a logo stamped on it. It was getting a little lighter outside, and she was able to make out the words, even from this vantage point.

Dollar Dayz Inn.

Her temperature rose. Was that right or was she seeing things? She lowered herself, picked it up. Read the words again.

Dollar Dayz Inn, just like she’d thought.

Whitney knew the place. Right off the freeway. Near where Whitney used to live.

Where Lauren grew up.

Adding the pen to the growing collection in her pocket, she stood so quickly all the blood rushed to her head. She was momentarily dizzy, so she clutched the edge of the couch until it subsided.

Then she raced out the back door. Once outside, she let out a long, slow, relieved exhale.

Cool air circled her, carrying with it the smell of damp grass, bark and flowers. She made her way across the back lawn and out to the street. A dog barked. Tires buzzed on the asphalt. A light shone from somewhere on the street. Head down, Whitney sprinted to the park.

Once inside her car, she turned on the ignition and gunned it out of the parking lot. The motel was at least twenty minutes away, and she was getting impatient.

As she sped down the street, she had the fleeting thought that maybe this was nothing more than a wild-goose chase—but then again, better chasing something than nothing.

SUNDAY, 6:00 A.M.

The motel looked even worse than Whitney remembered. She didn’t think it was possible for it to become sketchier, but somehow it had. Her stomach turned at the idea that Amelia might be here. Sitting in her car, Whitney scanned the lot, her gaze resting on the motel office. Her first instinct was to go in there and ask if either Lauren or Amelia had checked in here. Now that she was pretty sure she knew Lauren’s last name she could use that. But then she thought better of it.

There was no way the staff would willingly give out that information, and it might alert Lauren that she was here.