What She Knows: The Elizabeth Tyler Mysteries, #3

By Jeff Shelby

Elizabeth Tyler is at the end of the road.

She's come full circle, back to Minnesota, to the place she was taken after being abducted from her real family.

Elizabeth [is there because] wants answers. She wants to know what her adopted family knew all those years ago. Most importantly, she hopes they can help her tie up the loose ends that have haunted her for so long.

But the people she knew as family are struggling in ways she never expected. The life she knew there is gone, and Teresa, the girl she knew as her sister, has entangled herself in a situation that is getting more dangerous by the day.

With her real dad bearing down on her, urging her to give up the search, and the danger that Teresa now finds herself in increasing by the moment, Elizabeth discovers she knows much more than she realizes.

Securing closure for herself isn't just harder than she expected.

It's far more dangerous than she ever thought it would be.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jeff Shelby
• Release date: Sep 19, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386330486

Book preview

Books by Jeff Shelby

The Joe Tyler Novels

THREAD OF HOPE

THREAD OF SUSPICION

THREAD OF BETRAYAL

THREAD OF INNOCENCE

THREAD OF FEAR

THREAD OF REVENGE

THREAD OF DANGER

THREAD OF DOUBT

The Noah Braddock Novels

KILLER SWELL

WICKED BREAK

LIQUID SMOKE

DRIFT AWAY

LOCKED IN

IMPACT ZONE

WIPE OUT

The Moose River Mysteries

THE MURDER PIT

LAST RESORT

ALIBI HIGH

FOUL PLAY

YOU'VE GOT BLACKMAIL

ASSISTED MURDER

DEATH AT THE DINER

SCHOOL OF MURDER

DEAD IN THE WATER

The Rainy Day Mysteries

BOUGHT THE FARM

WHEN THE ROOSTER KILLS

CRACK OF DEATH

PLANTING EVIDENCE

ONE BAD EGG

BALE OUT

LAST STRAW

CUT AND DIED

SOUR GRAPES

TYING THE KNOT

The Capitol Cases Mysteries

DEAD ON ARRIVAL

NATIONAL MAUL

DARK HORSE

The Sunny Springfield Mysteries

DEAD BY DINNER TIME

BEAUTY AND THE THIEF

CUTTING TIES

The Elizabeth Tyler Mysteries

WHAT SHE LOST

WHAT SHE FOUND

WHAT SHE KNOWS

The Deuce Winters Novels (Under the pseudonym Jeffrey Allen)

STAY AT HOME DEAD

POPPED OFF

FATHERS KNOWS DEATH

Novel for Young Adults

PLAYING THE GAME

Short Story Collections

OUT OF TIME

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ONE

EVERYTHING WAS WHITE.

A large snow-encrusted sign to the right of the highway welcomed me to Minnesota as I passed out of Iowa and into the state I'd been driving toward. The temperatures had gotten progressively lower as I'd driven north out of Arizona, winter keeping its foot pressed on the throat of the Midwest, turning it into something that resembled the North Pole. The ground on either side of the highway was covered in a never-ending blanket of white, the few trees barren and dusted with snowflakes. A light dusting sparkled on the highway in front of me and I eased my foot off the accelerator, keenly aware of my lack of experience driving in the snow.

I'd driven eastward out of Arizona, cutting across New Mexico and tiny pieces of Texas and Oklahoma before finding a motel just across the Kansas border. I'd dropped into the bed without unpacking anything and immediately fell asleep. The sleep, though, didn't last long, and I found myself awake at four in the morning, staring at the ceiling and listening to the ice machine rumble just outside of my door. I pushed myself out of the bed, took a long shower to wash away the previous day, then grabbed my stuff, along with a bagel for the road, and headed back to the highway.

The drive through Kansas, Missouri, and Iowa had provided me with plenty of time to think about what had happened in Arizona and what I was heading to Minnesota for. As I drove across the frozen plains, I didn't regret going to Arizona. It had turned out differently than I'd expected, but I had found the house I'd been looking for. That had been my primary goal in going to Phoenix, and I'd accomplished that. It hadn't been without trouble, but I couldn't seem to recall the last time I'd done anything that was trouble free. I found the house, though, and while it didn't completely connect me to what happened there, it did feel like I'd started opening a door to my past.

What I hadn't counted on was the rift that occurred between me and my father.

He'd been furious with me for lying to him, and that was fair. I'd promised to be honest with him and I'd not done that. I'd lied about where I was and what I was doing. I got myself into some trouble and I'd gotten lucky to get out of it unscathed. He had every right to be upset with me once he learned the truth.

But it was the way that he’d ordered me to return to Coronado that bothered me so much. I understood his anger and I could accept the responsibility for that. But I was infuriated by the fact that he'd given his okay to my taking this trip but was now acting like he had the power to end it if he wanted to. He was my dad, not my keeper. And I was an adult, fully capable of making my own decisions.

Maybe his response had partly been my fault. I’d included him in the discussion in the first place, sought out his opinion instead of simply telling him what I was planning to do. Maybe I shouldn't have asked him what he thought about the trip. Maybe I should've approached it differently. Because maybe his feelings about it would have been different.

Regardless of how we’d arrived at our current impasse, I was not okay with him trying to make my decisions for me, no matter what I'd done. That wasn’t his job. I was going to make my own choices, even if I screwed up every so often. This was my life, not his, and although he was a part of it, the decisions I made belonged to me alone.

It did bother me, though, that I hadn't heard from him.

When I'd pulled out of Phoenix, I was still angry with him, and when I saw his name on my screen, I ignored his call, letting it roll directly to voicemail. I wasn't in the right frame of mind to talk to him and it would've gone badly. I just needed some time to cool off and I figured he did, too.

But I hadn't heard a word from him since. No calls, no texts, nothing.

I knew that I didn't have to wait for him to reach out. There was nothing preventing me from picking up the phone and calling him. Nothing except my pride and my stubbornness, because I wanted him to make the call.

But he'd gone silent.

I glanced at the phone on the passenger seat as I drove.

The screen was black.

I had the volume turned up, so I knew I hadn't missed anything from him.

I moved my eyes back to the road.

I knew I should just pick it up, call him, and get it over with. Even if he was still mad, I knew it would pass if I let him just get it out. He would talk and lecture, and he might even yell a little, but then it would be over. He was as predictable as the sunset in that regard. And then he would offer an apology and I would mumble something and then we could just get back to things being semi-normal.

Whatever that meant.

But part of me worried that this time would be different. I wondered if he was going to hold onto the anger that he had over my going to Minnesota. I was certain that was what had set him off, much more than the lying to him about where I'd been.

It didn’t matter, though. He could talk until he was blue in the face but there was nothing he would be able to say that would prevent me from going.

I laughed at the snow blowing across the road, at the alien landscape that looked as different as it could from the San Diego coast.

Nope. He couldn’t keep me out of Minnesota.

I was already there.

My gut tightened. My dad had strong feelings about Minnesota and the Corzines ever since he'd found me. I understood why he felt the way he did. Those people and that place represented everything he’d lost. I'd made the effort to put myself in his shoes and look at it from his perspective.

He just hadn't done the same for me.

I glanced at the phone again.

Still dark.

All I had to do was pick it up and punch his number.

Instead, I turned back to the snowy road and kept driving.

TWO

I got to Lakeville, one of the most southern suburbs of the Twin Cities areas, and pulled off of the Interstate to get gas, stretch my legs, and use the bathroom. When I stepped out of the car in my long sleeved T-shirt and shorts, I realized how utterly unprepared I was for the winter temps. The icy cold wind stabbed at my bare skin, and I was immediately reminded of the many Minnesota winters I’d spent bundled in layers of clothing, with hand warmers stuffed in my pockets and toes that managed to freeze even with thick socks and snow boots protecting them.

I sprinted toward the gas station, my tennis shoes slipping on the packed ice that coated much of the pavement. I’d need winter boots sooner rather than later. I used the restroom and then ran back out to the car, picking my way across the parking lot a little more carefully this time. I scrambled around in the backseat, digging out a pair of sweats and pulling them on over my shorts, then hooked the gas pump up to fill the tank, and quickly dove back into the car to avoid the wind and snow.

I waited until the pump clicked off, then made a mad dash outside to unhook the pump and decline the receipt before jumping back into the car. I turned the heater on full blast and pulled away from the pump to a parking spot in front of the attached convenience store.

I grabbed my phone from the passenger seat. I'd texted Teresa Corzine several times to let her know I was on my way and that I was getting closer. She'd said to call when I was really close. By my calculations, I was about forty-five minutes from the house. I found her name and hit the phone icon.

Are you here? she asked, skipping the hellos.

I'm in Lakeville, I said. Freezing my butt off.

Did you forget it was cold here?

Kind of? Considering how many winters I’d lived there, if felt like a stupid thing to forget. I may need to get some winter clothing.

Or borrow mine. Why are you in Lakeville?

I watched a guy in short sleeves, jeans, and work boots hustle into the store, his arms wrapped tightly around his chest. Needed gas and to go the bathroom.

You got here faster than I thought.

Not a lot of traffic in Iowa. I paused. Or Missouri. Or Kansas.

She laughed. I guess.

So my phone says it’s about forty minutes to the house.

She stayed quiet for a moment. Oh. Well, I should give you the address then.

I have the address, you goof.

No, Teresa said. I mean, the new address.

New address? What new address?

We moved, she said. Mom and I.

The guy in the T-shirt emerged from the store, ducked his head, and made a dash back to the pumps.

Oh, I said. I didn't realize that.

I probably forgot to tell you. I'm sorry.

I thought it was odd that she hadn't mentioned it. I'd just assumed I'd be going to the house that I'd spent so many years in as a kid, thinking they were my family and it was my home. They'd still been in the house when my mother and I had gone to Minnesota after I'd returned to Coronado. It never occurred to me that they'd be in a different house.

It's okay, I said. I just didn't realize you'd moved.

Yeah, she said. It's just been...it's just been kind of a mess since Dad died.

I knew that Alex Corzine had died. I'd had mixed feelings about his passing. I'd never been as close to him as I had been to Teresa and to her mother, Valerie, but he had still served as my adoptive father for several years. I didn’t know if I ever loved him, but I was sad that he died, especially for Teresa and Valerie.

Okay, I said. What's the address?

She gave it to me and I scribbled it on one of the paper napkins I’d stuffed above the glove compartment.

It's not as nice as the other house, Teresa said. It's kinda small.

I'm sure it's fine, I told her. And I'll plug it into my phone as soon as we hang up. Any idea how far away I am?

It's south Minneapolis, she said. So you're probably closer than you think.

Okay cool, I told her. Then I guess I'll see you in just a little bit.

Awesome, she said. Can't wait.

We hung up and I put the address into my phone. The route corrected itself and gave me a drive time of thirty-three minutes.

Thirty-three minutes.

I'd been back to Minnesota once before, with my mom. It was a visit I thought I needed because I was a mess after my dad found me. I had no idea who I was or what I wanted. At the time, I thought I needed to go back to Minnesota for closure. But the entire visit had been tense and uncomfortable, and gave me none of the things I'd been looking for. We'd returned to San Diego and I felt as if nothing had changed or closed.

But now I was back in the state, on my own terms, and by myself. The memories came fast and furious. I remembered the day I’d learned the truth about who I was and how I’d come to be with the Corzine family. Desperate and confused and more than a little heartbroken, I'd run away and eventually made my way to California before my dad – my real dad – found me and rescued me.

I remembered the moment I decided to run away, when I realized I didn't really know anything about my life. I'd been sitting on my bed, thinking about the papers I'd found in the far corner of Alex and