The Return(87)

“What does that mean?”

“I’m missing something. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s there.”

“Do you still think she’s from around here?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But the answer is here somehow.”

We climbed into our rental before Natalie spoke again. “I have an idea,” she finally offered.

“What’s that?”

“If Callie is from here, she probably went to school, right? And you think she might be sixteen? Or seventeen?”

“That would be my guess.”

“High schools have yearbooks. Some middle schools do, too. I have no idea how many high schools there are in the county, but there can’t be that many and I’d bet that none of them are very big. Assuming there are yearbooks in the school libraries, maybe we could find a name.”

I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it. “That’s brilliant.”

“We’ll see,” she said. “It’ll be after five before we get back to Helen, so it’s probably too late to start today. So first thing tomorrow?”

“Sounds like a plan. How did you think of that?”

“I don’t know. It just came to me.”

“Impressive.”

“Aren’t you glad I’m here?”

Yes, I thought, absolutely. But perhaps not for the reason you meant.

*



Back in Helen, we checked into our hotel. As I spoke to the clerk at the front desk, I sensed Natalie’s relief at the fact I’d reserved two rooms, even if they were adjacent. The clerk handed us magnetic key cards and we headed for the elevators.

Though sunset was still more than an hour away, I was tired. As much as I’d enjoyed spending time with Natalie, it was a strain to keep things entirely professional and pretend I wasn’t in love with her. I told myself to simply accept what she was offering, without expectation—but some things are easier in theory than in reality.

In the elevator, I pressed the button for the third floor.

“How do you want to do this?” she asked. “Do you want to look up the schools or should I?”

“I can do that. As you pointed out, there can’t be too many.”

“What time tomorrow?”

“Breakfast at seven here at the hotel, and maybe hit the road by eight?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

By then, we’d reached the third floor and we stepped into the corridor. Our rooms were on the left, not too far down.

“What are you doing for dinner tonight?” she asked as I unlocked my door.

“I was thinking the Bodensee. ‘Authentic German cuisine.’ I saw a review when I was finding hotels. Seems pretty good.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had authentic German cuisine.”

Was that a hint?

“How about I get reservations at eight for the two of us? I’m pretty sure we can walk, so meet downstairs at a quarter till?”

“Perfect.” She smiled. “See you then.”

*



In my room, after making the reservation, I took a quick nap, showered, and spent some time googling schools in the area on my phone. Through it all, I tried not to think about Natalie.

I couldn’t do it. The heart wants what it wants.

At a quarter till, she was waiting for me in the lobby looking as dazzling as ever in a red blouse, jeans, and pumps. As I approached, I wondered whether she’d been obsessing about me in the same way I had been about her, but as usual I couldn’t tell.

“You ready?” I asked.

“I was waiting on you.”

The Bodensee was only a short walk away and the evening was pleasant, with a gentle breeze that carried the scent of conifers. We were the only ones on the sidewalk and I could hear her shoes tapping against the concrete, my own steps falling in unison with hers.

“I have a question,” she finally asked.

“Go ahead.”

“What are you going to do if we actually find Callie’s family? What do you plan to tell them?”

“I’m not sure,” I said. “I guess that depends on what we learn.”

“If she is a minor, I have a duty to inform law enforcement.”

“Even if she was abused?”

“Yes, but that’s where it might get complicated,” she said. “It’s also tricky if she ran away at seventeen or whatever, but is now technically an adult. Frankly, I’m not sure what my obligations would be in that situation.”

“How about we cross that bridge when we get to it?”

*



The Bodensee, like the police station, looked more like a house than a commercial building, and I felt at home as soon as we arrived. The servers were dressed in Bavarian fashion in tight-waisted frocks, short-sleeved blouses, and colorful aprons; a bustling bar offered a variety of German beer. We were led to a table in the corner that seemed to promise a modicum of privacy in an otherwise crowded room. As we sat, I could hear faint strains of conversation drifting toward us.

Natalie glanced around, taking in the environment, a smile on her face.

“I can’t believe we’re in Georgia,” she said, coming back to me. “This place is amazing.”