Lynette Eason - Hide and Seek

Just as she opened her mouth, a creaking sound reached her ears. A thump sounded from down the hall, a scuffle. A muffled curse.

“Help!” a high scared voice called.

Erica dashed through the kitchen and into the hall. She tripped over the debris on the floor and managed to catch herself before she fell. Glass crunched beneath her feet, but she didn’t stop. Light pierced the darkness behind her, illuminating the filth surrounding her.

“Hey! Who’s in here?”

The deep male voice coming from behind her penetrated Erica’s fear even as she rounded the corner into the nearest bedroom only to come to a screeching halt.

A male in his midthirties had the girl by the throat with his left hand, a knife in his right. The girl’s fingers clawed at his hand.

“Stop it!” Erica yelled. “Get away from her!”

Running footsteps sounded behind her. Erica moved and placed her back to the wall so she could see who entered the room, but she didn’t want to take her eyes off the scene in front of her.

The attacker froze then shoved the crying young woman away from him and stepped toward Erica, knife raised, his eyes darting toward the door then back to her.

Adrenaline flowed, fear pulsed and she swallowed hard as she felt for the weapon in the holster just under her left arm.

In all the situations she’d found herself over the past three years, never once had she been forced to pull her gun.

It looked like tonight might be the night.

In the moonlight, she could make out the man’s harsh features: glittering dark eyes and a scar that curved from the corner of his right eye to his jaw.

She shivered, notched her chin and demanded, “Leave her alone!”

“Stay outta this, lady, or you’ll be sorry,” he snarled.

“Drop the knife! Now!”

Erica whirled to see a man, weapon drawn and aimed at the young man in the torn jeans and black sweatshirt.

Blue lights flickered and flashed against the walls as backup arrived. The attacker licked his lips, shifted his feet.

“Drop it!” the man yelled again. The knife clattered to the floor. Erica nearly wilted with relief. “Up against the wall!” he shouted.

More footsteps sounded in the hallway as the man spoke into his cell phone. Erica’s head spun as she watched the young girl’s terrified eyes snap to the man then to the window.

Before Erica could call out, the young teen ran to the window and climbed out.

“No! Lydia! Come back.”

The man’s shout hung on the empty air. Erica raced for the window, the breeze blowing back her blazer.

“Police! Hands in the air!”

She spun, shocked to see an officer’s weapon trained on her.

TWO

Max spotted the concealed weapon under the woman’s blazer and knew his pal, Officer Chris Jiles, had his gun on her. Her eyes, wide with shock, simply stared. Max brushed past her, careful to stay out of Chris’s line of fire, and stopped at the window. Lydia was nowhere to be seen.

Max slapped a hand against the wall and spun as Chris said to the woman, “Put your hands on your head.”

She finally blinked and said, “My name’s Erica James. I...I have a concealed weapons permit.”

“We’ll get to that in a moment. Hands on your head.” The woman complied and Chris stepped forward to remove her weapon from her holster. “Now show me some ID.”

Max knew Chris had the situation under control, and he turned and dashed from the room. He raced down the hall and out the door. “Lydia!”

He spun to the left, then back to the right.

She was gone.

Heart heavy, he returned to the scene to find Chris’s partner, Steve Shepherd, had the attacker on his knees. The man’s hands were bound behind him and his cries of innocence fell on deaf ears.

Two other officers had gone after Lydia. Two more had cleared the rest of the house.

Max looked into the woman’s face across from him. Beautiful pretty well summed her up—huge green eyes and curly red hair pulled back in a ponytail that accentuated high cheekbones. She had a fragile appearance that made Max want to offer his protection. Right after he questioned her and found out everything she might know about what just went down.

Chris ordered, “Let me see the permit.”

“It’s in my purse.” She frowned. “Which is still in my car. Hopefully.”

Chris looked at Max. “What are you doing here?”

“You have to ask?”

Chris scowled. “Right.” Then he motioned for the woman to walk. Max followed them down the hall and out the front door. As they exited, Max heard, “Erica!”

Erica stopped and waved at the man, who looked like he was ready to start pounding the officers holding him back. “I’m all right, Brandon.” Brandon gave her a fierce frown as she said, “Thanks for being willing to come to my rescue, but I didn’t need you, after all.”

His brows shot north. “What did you stumble into now?”

While she retrieved her license and showed it to Chris, she gave the man she’d called Brandon an abridged version of the events, which Max thought was still too long. She must have sensed his impatience because she finally said, “Go on back home, Brandon, I’ll be all right now.”

“I’m not leaving until I know you’re home safe.”

Max said, “I’ll see to it she gets there.”

Brandon rubbed his nose. “And you are?”

Max held out a hand. “I’m Max Powell. Former cop. Currently a private investigator.”

Brandon shook Max’s hand with a glare at Erica. “I’m Brandon Hayes, Erica’s long-suffering older brother.”

A sigh escaped her, and Max felt protective instincts surge to the surface once again. He couldn’t help but wonder at his strange reactions to this woman. Maybe he was just stressed out and overly tired.

Erica stiffened, and Max saw her start to say something then stop. Finally she seemed to decide on her words. “Brandon, I’m fine. Go home. I’m sorry I called you out here on a false alarm.”

The man wilted. “Aw, Erica...” He leaned over to give her a hug then shot a look at Max. “You’re sure?” Max nodded.

“Go, Brandon. Jordan’s probably wondering where you are,” Erica said.

“Your boyfriend will be fine without me,” Brandon said, giving Max a pointed look. The disappointment that shot through Max at the mention of Erica’s boyfriend was just one more emotional surprise today.

“Knock it off, Bran. Just because you want him to be my boyfriend doesn’t make it so. Now go home. I’ll text you when I’m behind locked doors.” She shot a look at Chris, who still held her license. “Hopefully they won’t have bars on them.”

Chris handed her wallet back to her. She spun away to stuff it into her purse as her brother got in his car.

He said, “I’ll be checking on you.”

“I’m sure you will.”

Brandon pulled away just as the officers who had gone after Lydia returned—empty-handed. Anxiety twisted inside Max. Would he never be at the right place at the right time?

“Do you know the girl?” Erica asked.

He hedged. “Do you?”

“No.”

Max watched as Steve led Lydia’s attacker to the nearest cruiser and stuffed him in the back.

He felt her eyes on him. “But you do,” she said.

“Why do you say that?”

She shot him a look full of exasperation. “Because you called her Lydia.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I know her.”

“I’m looking for a girl named Lydia, too.”

Max stilled, tense. “Why’s that?”

“Because she’s a suspect in the kidnapping of my daughter three years ago.”

The breath left his lungs. “You’re Molly’s mother?”

She paled. “You know who Molly is?”

“Of course I do. I’ve been following the story since I saw Lydia’s face on the news.”