She had wondered whether I was still searching.

The ache in my chest became almost unbearable.

“I should have found her sooner.”

“No,” Collins said firmly.

“You couldn’t.”

“I should have.”

“You were searching while someone else was hiding the truth.”

I wiped away my tears.

“Where is she now?”

“We’re trying to find that out.”

The detective hesitated once more.

“Mrs. Harrison…”

“Yes?”

“If Savannah asked whether anyone was looking for her…”

My pulse quickened.

“…then she may not know Felix has been arrested.”

The realization struck instantly.

She still believed she was protecting me.

She had no idea the danger she feared no longer existed.

Which meant…

If someone could reach her…

If someone could tell her the truth…

She might finally stop running.

I looked out Claire’s living-room window as the sun disappeared behind the trees.

For the first time since Nana vanished, I wasn’t chasing a memory.

I was chasing a living woman.

Somewhere in Portland…

My daughter had looked at a nurse only sixteen days earlier.

She had smiled.

She had spoken.

And before walking away, she had asked the one question that broke my heart all over again.

“Has anyone been looking for me?”

Part 5

I didn’t sleep that night.

Not because I was afraid.

Because hope had become too loud.

For ten years, I had imagined every possible ending to my daughter’s story.

Most of them ended with another funeral.

Another memorial.

Another apology from detectives who had nothing left to investigate.

Now, for the first time, I could picture something different.

A door opening.

A familiar smile.

A hug that had waited ten years to happen.

At six o’clock the next morning, Detective Collins called.

“We found another lead.”

I was already dressed.

“What is it?”

“A security camera outside the Portland clinic recorded your daughter getting into a city bus.”

“Do you know where it went?”

“We traced the route.”

My pulse quickened.

“And?”

“It stops near a neighborhood filled with community housing and nonprofit shelters.”

“I’ll be there today.”

“We’ve already booked your flight.”

I froze.

“What?”

“The department authorized it.”

“Why?”

“Because if Savannah sees a room full of police officers, she may run again.”

I understood immediately.

“But if she sees me…”

Collins nodded.

“She might stay.”

…

By noon, Claire and I were sitting beside Detective Collins on a flight to Portland.

Neither of us spoke much.

I held Nana’s photograph the entire trip.

Not the recent surveillance image.

An older one.

She was twenty-three, laughing on a hiking trail with wind blowing her curls across her face.

The same photograph she had apparently carried with her all those years.

The thought overwhelmed me.

She had taken my picture when she ran.

She hadn’t left because she stopped loving me.

She had left because she loved me too much.

…

Portland greeted us with steady rain.

Within an hour we were meeting detectives from the local department.

A large map covered one wall.

Colored pins marked every confirmed sighting.

The clinic.

The bus stop.

A grocery store.

A laundromat.

Each location had been visited within the previous month.

Detective Collins pointed toward the final marker.

“This shelter.”

“Why this one?”

“A volunteer remembers a woman matching Savannah’s description.”

My heart began racing again.

“Today?”

“Yesterday.”

We drove there in silence.

Every passing street felt strangely familiar despite my never having visited the city.

Maybe hope could make anywhere feel like home.

The shelter occupied an old brick church converted into temporary apartments.

Children played beneath the covered entrance while volunteers unloaded donated groceries.

The director, an elderly woman named Ruth, greeted us quietly.

“I’ve seen the news.”

She looked directly at me.

“You must be Natalie.”

I nodded.

“Has she been here?”

Ruth hesitated.

“Yes.”