Читать книгу Hide and Seek - Lynette Eason - Страница 12

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.”

“So who is she to you?”

Max blew out a deep breath and rubbed a hand over his head. “My sister.”

* * *

Erica rolled with the shock wave. Of course. Lydia Powell, Max Powell. “Your sister?” she said. Anger swelled inside her. “Your sister had something to do with my daughter’s kidnapping.”

His eyes flashed. “She wasn’t involved. She wouldn’t do something like that. When I saw her face on the news, it floored me. To hear that she was wanted for questioning about kidnapping a three-year-old?” He shook his head. “She wouldn’t. There’s got to be some explanation.”

Erica tucked her purse back behind her seat, thankful the car was exactly as she’d left it. She supposed having several police vehicles next to it had helped. “Well, I’d sure like to hear that explanation. And so would the cops.”

His lips tightened and he narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

Erica lifted her chin, struggling a little to keep it together. “This is the house where my daughter was kept right after she was taken. When they did the raid last week, they found the clothes she was wearing when she disappeared. Along with the hair clip that had your sister’s fingerprint on it. I couldn’t believe that stuff was still here after three years. So I came to see... I hoped...” Tears clogged her throat as her failure hit home.

Max swiped a hand across his eyes but not before she saw the brief flash of sorrow in them. He sighed. “Let’s get this wrapped up here, and we’ll talk. I want to know what you know about Lydia.”

“And I want to know what you know.” She slid into the driver’s seat.

He spoke to the officers, and she focused on slowing her rapidly beating heart. Her emotions were on overload. She had accomplished nothing with her impulsive trip to the crack house.

No, that wasn’t completely true. She’d found Lydia’s brother. Maybe that was the first step in finding Lydia. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the headrest. Oh, baby girl, where are you? Please Lord, help me find her.

Sobs threatened once again as the helplessness overwhelmed her. With an effort, she focused on what she had to do next. The next step in the plan.

“I’ll follow you home.” She recognized Max’s voice and opened her eyes.

She sighed. “It’s all right. I can manage.”

His jaw firmed. “It’s late and you’re in the toughest neighborhood in Spartanburg. Plus, I promised your brother I’d make sure you got home safe.”

“I thought we were going to talk.”

“We are.” He tapped the hood of her car. “But you need some rest and I’m not through with my search for Lydia tonight.” He paused and glanced at his watch. “Would you be able to meet for breakfast?”

Erica mentally went through her calendar. She had two appointments she could delegate. “What time?”

“Eight thirty?”

“Sure.” She cranked her car.

Max pointed to the weapon that had been returned to her. “What made you feel the need to carry that?”

Erica felt a wry smile cross her lips. “A job that brings me into neighborhoods like this.”

Curiosity lifted his brow. “What kind of job is that?”

“I find missing people. Children mostly.” Sadness filled her. “I have a great track record, too. Mostly.”

“Then why the sad eyes?”

She started, surprised he’d noticed. “It seems I can find everyone’s child but my own.”

He looked away for a brief moment, but not before she caught another flash of raw grief in his blue eyes. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

“Lydia?”

He nodded.

“She ran from you,” she said softly. Even though she thought Lydia had something to do with Molly’s disappearance, Max didn’t. He obviously believed in his sister, and Erica’s heart hurt for him. “I’m sorry.”

He swallowed hard. “At least I know she’s still alive. As of tonight anyway.”

“Who was the guy attacking her?” Erica asked.

He frowned. “He’s a punk who preys on young girls.”

“A pimp?”

“That, and more.”

She shuddered. “I’m sorry.”

With another shake of his dark head, he straightened and gripped the door, ready to close it. “Which is why we need to talk. Tomorrow.”

“Right.” She let him shut the door and waited for him to get into his vehicle.

Relief that she’d survived this night swirled as her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID. Jordan. She frowned. “Hey, is everything all right? Did Brandon get home okay?”

“Yeah. He told me what you’d been up to. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine.” She was really tired of that phrase.

“Glad to hear it, but you’re not home yet. I’ve been sitting on your front porch for the last few minutes and Mrs. Griffin is giving me the evil eye from her window across the street.”

Mrs. Griffin. The street busybody who kept her nose in everyone’s business, but was a sweet woman. “Why are you on my porch?”

Max flashed his lights to tell Erica he was ready, and she pulled away from the curb and made her way out of the neighborhood. She lived about ten minutes away, on the opposite side of town, and right now, all she wanted to do was get home, crawl into bed and sleep for a week.

But she couldn’t. Not if Jordan was there.

Jordan was saying, “Because I care about you, Erica. Brandon does, too. He shouldn’t have left you alone.”

“I’m not alone.” She grimaced. A sigh slipped out. “Look, go home.” Those words were getting old, too.

Jordan paused. “All right. I’ll just wait until you get here. Make sure you get inside safely.”

“A P.I. is following me home. I’ll be—” She refused to say it again. “All the drama is over.” Please don’t add to it, she finished silently.

“Okay.” He didn’t hang up. At this rate, he’d still be there when she pulled into the drive.

“So go.”

“Right. I’ll just be going.”

Erica frowned. He sounded weird. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing. Nothing. I was just—”

“Just what?”

“Nothing. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Erica hung up and glanced in the rearview mirror. Seeing Max following behind her was comforting in an odd sort of way, even though she knew he had questions for her. That was fine—she had questions for him. And she would not notice his blue eyes again. Even though she had a feeling she could get lost in them, wondering what was going on behind them. Wondering what it would feel like to see them soften and sparkle for her. But she wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t. She wasn’t interested in getting to know the brother of the girl who’d helped kidnap Molly. And she’d keep telling herself that as long as she had to in order to make herself believe it.

A few minutes later, she turned into her drive.

Jordan was gone and she breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been hovering like a mother hen lately—she couldn’t figure out what was going on with him. And Brandon calling him her boyfriend just added to the confusion. Why would he say that? Jordan was a nice guy, but he was like a brother to her, and Brandon knew that.

Max pulled up against the curb and rolled the window down. Erica got out of her car and walked up to him. “Thanks for the escort.”

“You want me to check out your house?”

“No thanks. No need.”

“So. Tomorrow morning?”

“Yes.” Her heart did a funny pitter-patter thing as his lips curved in a gentle smile. Shocked, she swallowed hard. She hadn’t felt an attraction for a man in such a long time, she almost didn’t realize what it was when it hit her. Ever since her husband had left her, she’d gone out of her way to avoid men. And now, in this crazy situation, she was finding herself attracted to a man she just met?

She shook it off and said, “We never picked a place.”

“Where’s your office?”

“On East Main Street in the same complex as the post office.”

“How about the café?”

“I’ll be there.”

“You have your phone?”

Erica lifted a brow and pulled it out.

He gave her his number. “Call me if you need anything, or if something changes and you can’t make it.” She punched in the number and heard his phone ring. When she hung up, he nodded toward her house. “Now go inside while I’m watching. And lock the door.”

“I always do.” Irritated by his bossy manner, Erica turned and made her way into the house, twisting the dead bolt after shutting the door. The lamp on the end table next to her sofa gave off a soft light that reached into the foyer, casting friendly shadows on the wall beside her.

Much friendlier than the ones in the crack house.

Erica glanced out the window and watched Max drive away. Without his distracting presence, images from the night bombarded her and she shivered. “So close,” she whispered to the empty room. So close to some answers, and once again they’d slipped away from her grasp.

Erica crossed to the mantel and picked up her favorite picture of Molly, the one taken the day before she disappeared. As always, the tears threatened, but she couldn’t look away from Molly’s bright smile, her unruly red hair pulled up into a ponytail and her green eyes glinting with good-humored mischief.

Well, the answers may have slipped away tonight, but at least she had a name to follow up on, thanks to Katie, and now she’d seen Lydia’s face up close and personal. She would recognize her again when she saw her, even if she was still trying to hide beneath that hoodie.

Erica set Molly’s sweet picture back on the mantel and turned to flip the lamp off.

Darkness covered her and for a moment she just stood there, nearly drowning in her grief. It had been three years and still sometimes the pain of missing her child made her go weak.

Erica forced herself to head for her bedroom. She needed her rest. She would be no good for anyone if she let herself get to the point where she couldn’t sleep again. Thankfully, she no longer needed medication most nights.

Tonight might not be one of those nights.

In her bedroom, she flipped on the closet light and let the warm light filter into the room. She wasn’t in the mood for the strong overhead light tonight.

Just as she started for the bathroom to get ready for bed, she heard the distinctive click of the front door closing.