I had finally looked into eyes that might belong to my daughter.
Detective Collins excused herself briefly.
When she returned, her expression had changed.
“We’re issuing a nationwide bulletin using the surveillance images.”
“Will the public see them?”
“Within the hour.”
I nodded.
“Good.”
She hesitated.
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“We interviewed Felix again this morning.”
The room became quiet.
“He admitted another lie.”
I wasn’t even surprised anymore.
“What now?”
“He knew Nana intended to go to Portland.”
My stomach twisted.
“He never told anyone.”
“He said he believed she’d calm down and return within a week.”
“And when she didn’t?”
“He became afraid.”
“Afraid of prison.”
“Afraid of losing everything.”
I laughed bitterly.
“He already had.”
Collins continued.
“He also admitted Carla helped him hide Nana’s shoulder bag.”
Claire frowned.
“Why?”
“They wanted investigators to believe Savannah had been abducted.”
I stared at her.
“They staged evidence?”
“Yes.”
“So they destroyed the real trail.”
“Exactly.”
I closed my eyes.
Every hour detectives had wasted…
Every search in the wrong direction…
Every unanswered question…
Had started with Felix’s lies.
“He stole ten years from her,” I whispered.
“And from you.”
…
By afternoon, Savannah’s surveillance image was everywhere.
Television.
News websites.
Social media.
The hotline received hundreds of tips within hours.
Most were useless.
One wasn’t.
At nearly six o’clock that evening, Detective Collins called again.
“We received a report from Portland.”
I answered before the first ring finished.
“What happened?”
“A nurse believes she treated the woman in the photograph.”
“When?”
“Sixteen days ago.”
I pressed the phone tighter.
“Why was she at the hospital?”
“Minor injuries.”
“Injuries?”
“She’d been hit by a bicycle while crossing the street.”
“Was she admitted?”
“No.”
“Did she give her name?”
The detective took a slow breath.
“Yes.”
My heart pounded so loudly I almost couldn’t hear.
“What name?”
“‘Anna Hayes.’”
I frowned.
“That’s not Nana.”
“No.”
“But the nurse remembered something unusual.”
“What?”
“She apologized because she’d accidentally written Savannah instead of Anna on one intake form.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
“The nurse asked whether Savannah was her real name.”
My vision blurred.
“And?”
“The woman smiled.”
“What did she say?”
Collins’s voice softened.
“She said…”
There was a pause.
“‘Only my mom still calls me that.’”
I covered my face as tears streamed through my fingers.
After ten years…
She still thought of me.
She still remembered.
She still answered to Savannah.
Detective Collins continued quietly.
“The nurse also remembered something else.”
I forced myself to speak.
“What?”
“Before leaving, your daughter asked whether anyone had been looking for her.”
The words hit me like a wave.
“What did the nurse say?”
“She told her she didn’t know.”
I closed my eyes.
Nana had wondered.
For ten years…
