“No,” I answered, “but I know enough.”
She looked at me for one long moment, then turned and walked to her room. I stood there, angry and stubborn, telling myself we’d talk in the morning. But by morning, Lily was gone.
Her bed was made. Half her clothes were missing, along with a small duffel bag. The police took the report, but one detective eventually said, “Ma’am, sometimes young adults leave on purpose.”
I never forgot his words, but for three years I searched, anyway.
Hospitals. Shelters. Bus stations.
Churches. I taped flyers to windows and light poles. I chased tips that led nowhere and called numbers scribbled on scraps of paper.
The police eventually labeled her a runaway because nothing came up, but still, I never stopped looking. Because mothers don’t stop. That afternoon began like any other Thursday.
I’d gone to the local grocery store after work to pick up some essentials. The sky hung gray over the parking lot as I stepped out with two grocery bags. Then I saw him.
A homeless man sat near the alley by the pharmacy wall. His beard was thick, and his coat was worn thin. A paper cup rested beside his boots.
Normally, I might have walked past. But something caught my eye. The last thing Lily wore when she disappeared that day was the bright red sweater I had knitted for her 18th birthday.
It was made of thick cables and wooden buttons. She loved the soft wool and used to wrap herself in it on cold mornings. Inside the cuff, I’d stitched two tiny letters in pale thread. “Li.”
That was my nickname for her since childhood.
The grocery bags slipped from my hands, and apples rolled across the pavement. Because the man sitting there was wearing Lily’s sweater! It was wrapped around his shoulders.
“Hey!” I shouted. The man looked up as I grabbed the sleeve and turned the cuff with shaking hands. There I found the nickname!
My voice broke.
“Where did you get this? Tell me what happened to my daughter!” I demanded. The man didn’t pull away.
He just studied my face as if he’d been waiting for this moment. He leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Your daughter is alive.”
“What?” I whispered.
My knees almost gave out. “I know where she is. You need to come with me.”
Before I could even speak, he reached out and grabbed my wrist lightly.
Every alarm in my head went off. I pulled my hand back. “Not until you tell me how you know my daughter.”
“I’ve seen her,” he said.
“Somewhere you won’t find on your own.”
I stared at him, trying to decide if I was looking at a liar or the first real lead. “Okay. Take me to her.”
He rubbed his jaw.
“Follow me.”
Hope surged in my chest as I grabbed my bags, leaving the apples behind, and followed him. But as we walked, he added, “But it won’t be free.”
The hope crashed down. He named a number that made my stomach twist.
“I don’t have that kind of money on me.”
Dan stopped walking and looked annoyed. “Then we’re done.”
Panic rushed through me. “Wait!
I can get it,” I said quickly. He paused, but didn’t turn. “When?”
He studied me for a moment.
“Meet me here at the store at 2 p.m.,” I said. The man finally nodded. “Don’t be late.”
I placed the bags on the floor, pulled a receipt from my purse, and wrote my phone number on it.
“If something changes,” I said, handing it to him, “call me.”
He tucked the paper into his pocket. “Bring the money.”
Then he walked away. I stood there, shaking.
***
When I finally made it home, I locked the door and called my older brother, Ethan. He answered on the second ring. “I think I found Lily,” I said, my voice trembling.
There was silence for one heartbeat. Then Ethan said firmly, “Start from the beginning.”
So I did. When I finished, he spoke calmly.
“You are not meeting that man alone.”
“I knew you’d say that. So, what’s the plan?”
The plan was settled between us slowly. “Tomorrow,” Ethan said softly, “we find out the truth.
But don’t hold your breath, sis.”
“I won’t,” but I was already in too deep. The following day crawled by. I was off work, so I tried to keep busy with chores.
But my mind kept returning to the same question. What if the man was telling the truth? What if he wasn’t?
Ethan arrived just after noon.
He knocked once and walked in. “You ready?” he asked. “No,” I said honestly.
“But I’m going.”
He nodded. We reviewed the plan one more time. At 1:45 p.m., I stood outside the store, my heart pounding so hard.
