Lynette Eason - Hide and Seek

Chris nodded and said, “Just give us a holler if you need any more help with him.” He paused. “But I’ll caution you. Don’t trust him.”

She sighed. “I know.”

After Chris and Steve asked her a few more questions and finally left, Max rose. “Guess I’d better be going, too.” He glanced down the hall. “I’d feel better if he wasn’t here.”

So would she, but Erica wasn’t going to tell him that. “Peter will sleep awhile and so will I. I’ll talk to him in the morning, see if he’s open to a plan—or rehab. Again.”

Max nodded. “Okay.” He rubbed his chin. “I talked to the detectives who handled Molly’s case.”

She lifted a brow. “Lee and Randall.”

“Yes. Good detectives.”

“Not good enough.” The words left her lips before she could stop them.

He stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. “I can see why you would think that. But I work with them on a regular basis. And I’ll tell you, not a week goes by that Katie—Detective Randall—doesn’t review Molly’s case. She keeps it fresh in her mind and is always ready for something to break. She’s the one who recognized Molly’s dress at the crime scene.”

“Really? She didn’t tell me that.” Erica reached up to rub the rocklike muscles at the base of her neck. “Well, it’s good to know they really do care,” she said softly. She truly was touched to know that Katie reviewed Molly’s case on a regular basis. Katie had become a friend during the nightmarish days and then months following Molly’s disappearance. Erica had checked in with Katie regularly, but the woman had had nothing more to tell her.

Until the raid had unearthed Molly’s dress and bow.

Erica watched Max walk over to her mantel and pick up the picture of Molly. “She looks like you.”

Tears threatened, but Erica held them back. “Yes. She does.”

He placed the picture back and looked at the others. “Your parents?”

“They live across town.” Erica snagged the family portrait that had been taken at Christmas almost four years ago. “This is the brother you met tonight at the crack house—Brandon. He has a town house on East Main near our office. And this is Peter during one of his better times.” She sighed. “He lives in our grandparents’ old home on the west side of town. He doesn’t have to pay rent so at least he has a place to sleep at night when he runs out of money.” She reached out to trace a finger over Molly’s image. “This is the last picture we had taken with all of us.”

“And this one?” He pointed to the small silver and blue frame in the line.

Erica gave a sad smile. “That’s Denise Tanner, my best friend. She and I were inseparable from third grade to graduation. We were even roommates before I got married. She lives in New Mexico now but we talk at least once a week.”

Max placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve moved on. You haven’t forgotten Molly or given up hope, but it hasn’t broken you.”

She could feel the warmth of Max’s hand through her heavy sweater, and the sudden desire to lean into him and let him take a share of her burden nearly overwhelmed her. She resisted, but barely. “I didn’t exactly have a choice and it hasn’t been easy. But that’s a story for another time.” She really needed him to go or she was going to be a blubbering mess.

He gave the family photo another look. “You seem like a close family.”

A snort slipped out before she could stop it. At his surprised look she shook her head. “Looks can be deceiving. We’re not close. It’s been months since I’ve seen or talked to my parents. Things changed after Molly was taken.”

He lifted a brow. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It is what it is. Maybe one day things will be different.” Only if you make an effort to change them, said that little voice that was always right about such things. She cocked her head. “And maybe one day I’ll tell you about it.”

Max nodded and made his way to the door. “I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep lightly and be careful,” he said before he left.

She knew what he meant. He was worried about Peter.

Erica got that—she was worried, too.

I’ll sleep with one eye open.

Not to mention with my bedroom door locked and my gun close by.

FOUR

Max glanced at his watch for the third time in as many minutes. Was she coming? He sipped the cup of coffee he’d ordered and stared at the door, wondering if her brother or his “friend” had caused her any more trouble last night.

He frowned and shifted in his seat. How was he going to convince Erica that Lydia had nothing to do with Molly’s kidnapping?

He finally concluded that he wasn’t going to be able to convince her—not with words, anyway. He would have to show her who Lydia was, help her see his sister the way he saw her.

The mixture of smells in the café, such as cinnamon and coffee, tantalized him, making his stomach growl. The bagel and cream cheese in front of him was going to be too much temptation to resist if he had to wait on her much longer.

Max pulled out his phone, ready to punch in Erica’s number when the door finally opened and she stepped inside, bundled against the frigid November wind.

She spotted him and smiled.

He waved her over.

Erica settled into the seat across from him and he said, “Any trouble last night?”

She shook her head. “He was gone when I got up this morning. I heard him leave around five o’clock.” And she hadn’t asked him to stay.

“Does he show up like that very often?”

“Every once in a while. That was the first time in about three months.”

And Peter had never brought anyone with him before—the appearance of Polo Moretti was new. Erica wasn’t sure what to make of that yet.

“You want some coffee?”

“Yes, I’ll be right back.”

Max sat back to study her as she headed to the counter to order. He decided he could look at her for a long while without growing bored. Very pretty, with auburn curls and green eyes. She was also tall. He put her at around five feet eight inches or so.

Within minutes, she had her coffee and a pastry, and she settled back into her seat with a sigh. “It was a long night, but we survived.”

“Indeed.” He rested his elbows on the table and clasped his fingers together in front of him. “Do you mind if I say a blessing?”

Erica set her coffee cup down. “Of course not.”

Max bowed his head and thanked God for the food and for His guidance in finding Lydia and Molly. Short but effective. He saw Erica blink away tears and take a deep breath.

His heart ached for her loss. He couldn’t even imagine what it must be like to have someone steal your child. Not knowing where his sister was nearly ate him alive, but if it was his child...

Erica took a bite of her pastry, which dripped with chocolate sauce, and said, “Do you mind telling me about your sister?”

Max sighed and said, “It’s not a pretty story.” Of course, in telling her about Lydia, he would also be opening himself up and revealing information he didn’t share with just anyone. She must have seen this on his face because she reached across the table and placed her hand over his.

“Please,” she said.

Max felt his stomach twist at her touch.

She thinks Lydia had something to do with her daughter’s kidnapping, he reminded himself.

He drew his hand away and snagged his coffee cup. Her face flushed and she clasped her fingers in her lap. Guilt hit him. He hadn’t meant to make her feel awkward.

“Look, Lydia’s not perfect by any stretch of the imagination. And I know she’s a suspect, but I really don’t think she would have anything to do with kidnapping.”