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  “No, it’s about making life more comfortable for you and Ross, because you feel guilty whenever I’m around,” Milla said.

  “Guilty!” Julia drew back, her pretty face astonished. “What do we have to feel guilty about?”

  “Having your children safe and sound. Being happy. Being whole. It’s a form of survivor’s guilt.”

  “That isn’t true.”

  “Then what does it matter to you how I live my life? If I were a drug dealer or a prostitute, I could see your point, but I look for lost people—children, mostly. And I still look for my son. How on earth is that harming you? What if it were Chloe?” Chloe was Julia’s five-year-old daughter, an impish pixie of a child who lit up the world with her smile. “If some stranger snatched her away from you at, say, the mall, how long would it take before you said, ‘Oh, well, I’ve looked long enough, time to get on with my life’? Would there ever be a night when you didn’t go to bed wondering where she was, if she was hungry or cold, if some pervert was using her in unspeakable ways? And even then would you pray that she still be alive, so you at least had a chance of seeing her again? How long would you give yourself, Julia?”

  The color washed out of Julia’s cheeks. She wasn’t the most imaginative of women, but she could picture how she would feel if anything happened to Chloe.

  “So imagine how I felt when you and Ross said, ‘Hey, it’s been a while, you might as well give it up and stop bothering us with your sad face.’ I personally don’t give a damn how you feel about my sad face, and I don’t know if I’ll ever forgive you for saying Justin doesn’t matter!” Despite her attempt to remain calm, Milla’s voice was fierce as she finished.

  “We never said that!” Julia was appalled. “Of course he matters! But he’s gone, and you can’t change that. We just want you to accept it.”

  “If I’d accepted it three years ago, I wouldn’t have found the people who took him,” she snapped. “Just last month, as a matter of fact. I finally have some solid leads, and even if all I can find out is that he was adopted, using a fake birth certificate, can’t you see that’s more than I’ve had before? Until two weeks ago, I didn’t even know if he was alive when he was taken out of Mexico! So let’s just say you and Ross made an error in judgment, and leave it at that.”

  “Leave it, period,” said Mrs. Edge, a stern, angry look on her face. “That’s enough. Julia, I love you dearly, but this isn’t your home anymore; how dare you come here knowing you were going to start a ruckus? I can see the points both of you are making. As a mother, I know I would never stop looking if one of you went missing. Also as a mother, I hate to see my child tearing herself apart for a hopeless cause.”

  “But it isn’t hopeless,” Milla said.

  “We know that now, but we didn’t know it before! We have to go with what we can see, and what we saw was your life in ruins. You and David divorced, and you buried yourself in this Finders work until it seemed that there was nothing left of you, the person we all love. Milla, you have no idea how we’ve worried—”

  “Uh.” Mr. Edge hesitantly stuck his head through the doorway. “I hate to bother you, but Milla’s purse is ringing.” He held out his hand, and in it was Milla’s purse, which, from the habit of a lifetime, she’d placed on top of the piano when she’d come in. The cell phone inside was both ringing and vibrating, making it sound as if the noise had disturbed a rattlesnake.

  She hurried across the kitchen to take her purse and dig out her phone. The office had her parents’ number, and normally when she was on vacation she turned off her cell phone, but she’d turned it on while driving over from the airport to let her folks know she was on her way, and had forgotten to turn it off again. The call was probably related to Finders, but unless it was an emergency, she’d just refer the caller to the office number.

  She punched the talk button and said, “Milla Edge.”

  “How soon can you meet me in Idaho?” The voice was low and rough, almost rusty sounding, as if the owner didn’t use it very often. He didn’t have to identify himself.

  Milla sucked in her breath. She was already upset, already tense, and hearing Diaz’s voice was like receiving a mild electrical shock. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I found a name. I don’t like taking you along, not after what happened with Lola, but I figure you have a right.”

  “That was my fault,” she admitted. “I lost control. I promise it won’t happen again.” Her heart was racing and she was all but quivering with excitement. “I’ll call the airline and see what’s available, then get back to you. Where exactly am I going?”

  “Boise. Plan on spending one night; then we’ll fly home the next day.”

  “I’ll get right back to you. Will you be at the number on Caller ID?”

  “Yeah.”

  She pulled her return ticket out of her purse and looked at the phone number on it. Her fare was nonrefundable, but sometimes it could be transferred to a different flight.

  “What’s going on?” Mrs. Edge asked, coming to stand beside Milla as she dialed the number for her travel agency. She always used an agency instead of booking the flights herself, because last-minute changes had had to be made often enough that she’d found a travel agent could handle things much easier, having all the information for all the airlines right there.

  “That was one of my contacts.” Explaining exactly who and what Diaz was would take far too much time. “He’s been tracking the men who took Justin, and he’s located someone who might know something. I’m meeting him in Idaho.”

  “But you just got here!”

  “This can’t wait.”

  “I can’t believe you’re doing this again,” Julia said.

  Milla spared her a brief glance. “I can’t believe you think I should pass up a chance to find out anything I can—Yes, hello.” She turned her attention to the travel agent on the other end of the line. What she found was that, because it was late afternoon now, if she left today the only flights available would involve a couple of layovers, changing airlines, and still not get her into Boise until tomorrow morning. Or she could wait until tomorrow morning and take the first flight out; she would still have to change airlines, but she would arrive in Idaho only an hour later than she would if she left right now.

  That was a no-brainer. Milla chose the second option, got all the details, then called Diaz back. “I can’t make it today; tomorrow morning is the best I can do. If the flight’s on time, I’ll be getting in at eleven-oh-three.” She gave him the airline and flight number.

  “Are you checking your luggage?”

  She thought of all she had brought, since she’d planned to spend several days here. “I’ll have to, or have most of it shipped home.”

  He didn’t gripe about having to wait for her luggage, just said, “I’ll meet you in baggage claim. See you in the morning.”

  “Yes,” she echoed. “I’ll see you then.” She hung up, her attention already far away from the people in the room. She brushed past Julia without really seeing her and made her way up the stairs, her mind on repacking her bags so her essentials were in one small bag that she could carry on with her, in case her checked luggage went missing.

  “Milla!” Julia called after her, but Milla kept climbing the stairs.

  18

  Catching the first flight out meant getting up at three A.M. so she would have time to drive to the airport in Kentucky, turn in her rental car, and still have plenty of time to get through security. She bought some snacks out of vending machines in the Louisville airport, because it was a safe bet the airline wasn’t going to serve anything and she was already hungry. From Louisville she flew to Chicago, then from Chicago to Salt Lake City, where she changed airlines and flew to Boise.

  Diaz was waiting for her, and her heart gave a huge thump at the sight of him. He was dressed much as usual, in jeans and those rubber-soled boots, though in deference to the changing season he wore a long-sleeved denim shirt over his dark T-shirt, wi