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airport?” I asked. “Where is she going?”
    “She’s trying to figure out what happened,” she said.
    “What do you mean?”
    “Small details,” she said. “Small details are coming back. Or she’s seeing them. When she found the paper that said she was adopted, I think it freaked her out. But she couldn’t sleep. For days. And she said she kept seeing things.”
    “Like?” Lauren asked.
    “The beach,” she said. “Palm trees. Ocean.”
    My pulse quickened. “Coronado.”
    “What?”
    “Coronado,” I repeated. “Where she lived. Where we lived.”
    Morgan rubbed her hands together. “I don’t know. But she decided she wanted to go see if she could see anything else that might help her remember.”
    “So she’s going to San Diego?” I asked, the hope sparking again.
    “No,” Morgan said, extinguishing the spark. “Los Angeles.”
    “Why L.A.?”
    Morgan shrugged. “I don’t know. She felt like she needed to go somewhere. We looked at a map. It seemed to make sense.”
    “Sending a kid to L.A. by herself made sense?” I asked, incensed. “Really?”
    Lauren put a hand on my arm, but I shook it off.
    “Are you serious?” I said. I didn't care that Morgan was just a kid herself as I unleashed all of my anger and frustration. “She’s never been there before. She’s going there alone. And you think it makes sense to let her go? What the hell kind of friend are you?”
    Morgan’s shoulders slumped and her eyes drifted to the floor. I didn’t care if she felt bad. I did care that she was apparently stupid.
    “Joe,” Lauren said, her voice sharp as her nails dug into my arm.
    I shrugged her off.
    “So you bought her a ticket?” Lauren asked Morgan. “Is that why she came to you?”
    “I gave her money for a ticket,” Morgan said, still staring at the floor. “And some extra because she’s almost out. For hotel or whatever. She’s supposed to call me when she gets to L.A. so that I know…”
    “What time’s the flight?” I interrupted. “And what airline?”
    Morgan hesitated.
    “What time?” I yelled.
    She winced, then glanced at the clock on the microwave. “She was looking at one that left at one-thirty. I don’t know the airline.”
    I looked at Lauren. “Stay here with her. Get as much info as you can. Keep calling the number. Call her parents. But stay with her and don’t let her out of your sight.” I jogged toward the front door.
    “Where are you going?” Lauren yelled.
    “Airport,” I said, and, before she could stop me, I opened the door and ran into the cold, cold wind.

TEN
     
     
    Denver International Airport was located east of the city, out on the plains before you hit the Kansas border. I’d driven to the airport once before—I couldn’t recall why—but as I sped down the roads that left the highway and pointed me toward the airport, I recognized the giant, white, tent-like structure as it grew larger.
    I flew past the rental car center and, unsure of which airline she might be trying to get on, chose the east terminal because it looked like I could get there quickest. I momentarily flirted with the idea of pulling into the parking garage, then changed my mind. If I was able to stop her, there was going to be all kinds of chaos and the least of my worries would be a rental car parked in a pick-up zone.
    I found an open spot in the pick-up area and slid in behind a gray SUV. I got out and without looking around, hustled into the airport. No one stopped me. I found a screen listing the departing flights and scanned it quickly. I spotted one flight leaving for Los Angeles at one-thirty.
    Which was in exactly nine minutes.
    I had to make a decision. Find the airline counter and try to get them to stop the flight or try to get to the gate myself.
    I took the latter.
    I found a kiosk for the nearest airline and did a quick search of flights for the day. I bought the cheapest I could find—one bound for Topeka, Kansas. I had no intention of going to