The girl stared down at the last photo of herself, the one where she was decked out in painter’s attire, grinning broadly as she painted her room a somewhat sickening shade of yellow-green. Completely unaware of how much every part of her-her laugh, her carefree attitude, her easy affection-all reminded Stone of Jenna.

“She is coming back,” Sara whispered. “I just know it.” She met her dad’s worried expression and hugged him hard. “Well, she is.”

Holding her close, Stone stared over her head at the calendar.

Ten years.

He was far from the frightened twenty-year-old left with no family and an infant he didn’t know how to care for. As a result, he’d long ago hardened his heart to the memory of the wild needy Jenna who’d so completely stolen his affections. He’d long ago moved on. Yet in spite of all his lingering rage, he’d forgiven her for what she’d done to him. Or so he told himself.

But as he kissed the top of Sara’s head, he had to admit the truth to himself.

He hadn’t forgiven Jenna for what she’d done to their daughter. Hadn’t even come close.

Jenna’s chest hurt. It had nothing to do with any lingering injuries and everything to do with the sight in front of her.

She sat on a tier of stands in the gymnasium of the school watching a basketball game.

Sara-it was really her this time, not some cruel dream her mind had conjured up to tease her-was playing basketball with all her little ten-year-old heart. Her tongue was squeezed between her teeth, her eyes narrowed in fierce concentration as she dribbled-okay, tripped-over the ball.

Her daughter. It had to be. Jenna had seen no pictures over the years. How could she have when she’d so completely disappeared no one could have found her even if they’d been looking? And she wasn’t hopeful or foolish enough to think that anyone had been looking.