Hide and Seek. Lynette Eason
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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.