Hide and Seek. Lynette Eason
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He gave Erica one last look and she shuddered with distaste when he finally turned his back.
“Peter, get rid of that loser, then give me back my key.” She paused for a moment, knowing she probably shouldn’t say what she was about to say. “You can stay in the guest room tonight.”
Peter lifted his hands and raked them through his hair. They trembled. He paced from one end of the room to the other, glancing at the door as though expecting Polo to return. “I need you to give me some cash. I’ll give it to him, and he’ll leave you alone.”
What was he coming down from? His drug of choice was usually cocaine or heroin.
He shook his head. “I’m so tired.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Look, Erica, I’m sorry about all this.”
She lifted a brow. “You’re sorry?”
“Yeah. I’m—” He waved a hand. “I wish...”
“Wish what, Peter?”
Erica took his arm and tried to lead him from the room but he jerked away from her. “What are you doing?”
“Police! Anyone here?”
Peter froze like a deer caught in the headlights. “You called the cops?” he snarled.
“No! I didn’t.” She turned and yelled, “We’re back here! Everything is fine.”
Had they seen Polo?
Footsteps sounded on her hardwood and for the second time that night she faced the officers Max seemed to know personally, with their weapons drawn. She held her hands where they could see them. “Why are you here?” she asked.
“Everything all right?” The officer in front stepped forward, his narrowed eyes taking in the scene before him.
Erica nodded. “Yes. Fine.”
The officers exchanged glances and the first one holstered his weapon. The second only lowered his.
“Who called you?” Erica asked.
“Your neighbor said she saw a suspicious man hanging around your front door. He was on his way over to see if you needed help when he heard you scream. Decided to call the cops instead.” He motioned to the bruise on her chin. “Want to explain that?”
Erica looked at her brother as she reached up to touch her chin. “He surprised me and I got banged with the door.”
Peter looked contrite. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”
Was he sorry? Or was he sorry he wasn’t going to get what he came here for? She honestly didn’t know what to think of him anymore. She just knew she wanted to help him, couldn’t give up on him.
He was her brother, plain and simple.
The cop nodded, suspicion still written on his face. “What’s he coming off?”
Pete glared at the officer and Erica sighed. “I have no idea, but I’ll take care of him.”
“You’re not helping him by covering for him.”
“I know.” Weariness invaded her as she looked at her little brother. How had he become this stranger she didn’t know anymore? Someone she didn’t trust and was afraid of some of the time, like when he came into her apartment with a creep and tried to shake her down for cash? “He had someone with him. A guy named Polo.”
Peter winced and the officer’s eyes shot wide. “Polo Moretti?”
She grimaced. “I didn’t get a last name.” She looked at her brother. “Peter?”
“I just met the guy,” Peter muttered. “I don’t know his last name.”
“Who is he?” Erica asked.
The two officers exchanged a glance. Then one said, “He’s involved in all kinds of nasty stuff. You don’t want to mess around with him.”
Erica drew in a quick breath. “Peter, what are you involved in?”
“Erica?”
She frowned—she knew that voice. She shot a look at Peter to let him know the conversation wasn’t over. “Max?”
Max stepped into the hall and greeted the officers by name. Then he looked at her. “What’s going on? I kept calling but you didn’t answer.”
“So you drove over here?” Erica felt a thrill in the pit of her stomach that she couldn’t explain but didn’t want to think about.
“Yeah. It’s not that far.” Pain flashed in Max’s gaze for a brief moment—long enough for her to wonder about it— until his gaze shifted to her brother, a question on his face.
Peter’s eyelids drooped. He didn’t seem so dangerous now. In fact he reminded her of the sleepy little brother she used to put to bed. Erica said, “Look, let me get Peter settled and we’ll talk in the den.”
Max and the other two officers left the room. “Go on in the bedroom. I’ll take care of this,” she said to Peter.
For once, he didn’t argue with her, just shuffled his way down the hall with one last look toward the front door, probably wondering where his friend went.
If Peter stayed here, would that Polo guy come back looking for him?
She felt sick at the thought.
The guest room door shut with a decisive click. Erica stood staring at the door for a brief moment then shut her eyes as she fought the weariness that threatened to make her keel over. Oh, Peter. What was she going to do with him?
Voices from the den grabbed her attention. She’d worry about Peter later.
Erica made her way back into the den where she found Max sitting on her couch and the other officers standing in front of her fireplace looking at Molly’s picture.
Max said, “This is Chris and Steve. You remember them from earlier tonight?”
Erica nodded, shook their hands and said, “Sorry for all the trouble. Peter’s going through a rough patch and...” Her voice trailed off. What could she say? Peter’s actions, the company he was keeping and his appearance spoke for themselves. She refused to make excuses for him anymore.
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