Hide and Seek

by Lynette Eason

  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.”

  Erica gave a small shrug and her lips tightened. “I don’t know your sister, of course. I only know that her fingerprint was found on the bow Molly was wearing when she disappeared. That makes me want to find her and talk to her. And if she didn’t have anything to do with it, why is she running?”

  He had to admit that running didn’t look good, but that was typical Lydia. She ran from problems instead of facing them whether she was guilty of causing them or just in the wrong place at the wrong time. “I want to find her, too, give her a chance to explain.”

  Erica took a sip of her coffee and studied him. She finally asked, “Can we work together?”

  He paused. Work with her? Maybe. Keep an eye on her? Definitely. “I think we can. But you have to understand I’m looking to prove she didn’t have anything to do with the kidnapping.”

  Erica nodded. “I’m not looking to prove her guilty of anything—I’ll leave that to the cops. I just want to talk to her, find out what she knows. Ask her why her fingerprint was on my daughter’s bow.”

  He could live with that. For now. Plus, keeping her close and under his watchful eye would be better than having her go off on her own and finding Lydia before he could.

  “All right,” Max said, “I’ll tell you Lydia’s story.”

  Erica waited while Max gathered his thoughts. Her nerves danced and her heart pounded. She wasn’t sure if it was due to the man seated across from her or what he was about to say. She reluctantly admitted it was probably a combination of both.

  Max had dark good looks, and his no-nonsense attitude matched her own. She liked that he was willing to work with her even though he knew she thought it was very possible Lydia had something to do with Molly’s kidnapping.

  She liked him. Period. And for the first time in a long time, she wanted to see if she would still like him the more she got to know about him.

  But for now, Lydia was her priority. Erica couldn’t afford to have romantic feelings, not when there was a new lead in Molly’s case.

  “The short version,” Max said, “is that Lydia and I grew up in the neighborhood you found yourself in last night.”

  Erica hadn’t expected that one. “Oh wow.”

  “Yes. It was a bad situation. Our parents were also products of that neighborhood. I’m eight years older than Lydia so by the time she came along, I was already a seasoned pro at staying out of the way of the fights and the drug dealers.” He shrugged. “I felt like I had to protect her, but for an eight-year-old that was a lot.”

  “No eight-year-old should face a responsibility like that,” she whispered, appalled and yet amazed he’d survived to become the man he was today. “Why are you different? How did you get out?”

  He gave her a rueful smile. “Foster homes. One of them anyway. I learned that the world was not just pain and drugs and abuse. I learned about love and God, and that if I wanted to climb out of the hole that was my life, I could do it as long as I wasn’t afraid of hard work.” He rubbed his chin. “You want to hear something silly?”

  “Sure.” Her fingers curled into her palms as she fought the urge to offer comfort.

  “I watched a lot of movies growing up, and I saw these families portrayed as loving, kind to one another. Not perfect, but definitely not like my family.” He gripped his knife and looked at it, then laughed—a sad, derisive sound. “I used to picture my family sitting around me at Thanksgiving or Christmas while I carved the turkey.”

  “And you wanted a family like that?”

  “Yeah.” He flushed and shook his head. “I don’t know why I told you that.”

  “It’s okay,” she said softly. This time she didn’t fight her feelings. Erica reached over and squeezed his hand. “I know exactly what you mean.”

  He shook his head. “So anyway, I guess you see that we didn’t have a great childhood.”

  “But you rose above it. So many people don’t. What happened with Lydia?”

  Pain flashed in his eyes. “I lost touch with her for a while. When I turned eighteen, she was ten and a ward of the state. I didn’t find her again until she was sixteen. She’s the reason I quit the force and turned to private investigating. I could spend more hours on tracking her down as a P.I. than I could as a cop. When I finally found her, I asked her to come live with me, but she was pretty happy with her foster mother, a woman named Bea Harrison. So I didn’t push the issue. The next time I went to visit her, though, she was gone.” His mouth tightened at the memory and his eyes flashed.

  “Did you find her again?” She knew Lydia was alive as of last night, but she still tensed as she waited for his answer.

  He took a bite of his bagel and nodded. “Yes. Turns out our mother had gone through some kind of program and completed it successfully. And the court gave Lydia back to her.”

  Erica gaped. “What?”

  “I couldn’t believe it, either. I was furious. I went to the house and found Lydia high and my mother passed out on the couch. Alcohol and drugs were everywhere.” He swallowed hard. “I called DSS and the cops and waited for them to get there. They took her back into the system, and Lydia has been mad at me ever since.”

  Erica swallowed hard. This was the girl Molly had possibly been with? What had her child experienced while with her? Erica shut off that line of thought. She just couldn’t go there.

  Max was saying, “I finally got custody of her about two months before she turned eighteen, but she refused to stay with me. The court sent her back to Bea, and Lydia agreed to that arrangement as long as I wouldn’t come around. The only time she talks to me now is to beg money for a hit.” He paused. “I had hoped things were turning around when she agreed to let me take her out on her eighteenth birthday. Things were definitely looking better between us, but about a month later, she was back to her distant, I-hate-Max self.”

  Her heart ached for him. “I’m so sorry.”

  Max ran a hand down his face. “She was stabbed around that time and ended up in the hospital. I never found out what the circumstances were, but she almost died. I sat with her day and night, hoping to show her how much I loved her, but once she was released, she disappeared again. Over the last three years, we’ve had minimal contact.” He grimaced at Erica. “There—you have the whole ugly story. You sure you don’t want to run screaming in the other direction?”

  “No, your story doesn’t scare me. It makes me hurt for you and Lydia, but it doesn’t scare me.”

  She thought she saw relief in his eyes before he glanced out the window.

  “I hate to point this out, Max, but Lydia’s lifestyle makes it more likely that she would be involved in something like Molly’s kidnapping than not.”

  His jaw hardened and she could tell he didn’t like her statement. “You don’t know her. I do.”

  “Do you really? You said yourself you two have been estranged, and she will ha
rdly even talk to you. How can you claim to know her?”

  Max’s nostrils flared. “You’ll just have to trust me on this.”

  Erica bit her lip. “I’m not deliberately pushing you, but surely you can understand where I’m coming from. Her fingerprint was found on the bow.”

  He nodded. “I get that. But I’m sure there’s an explanation for it. Which is why I want to find her. To help her. Because the police aren’t going to care about helping her.” He brought his intense gaze back to Erica. “I’d really like to find her first.”

  I’m sure you do, Max. And I plan to be there when it happens.

  “You said you’d gotten custody of Lydia before she turned eighteen. Does she still have a room at your house?”

  He lifted a brow. “Yes.”

  “Do you mind if I take a look at it?”

  “She doesn’t stay there.” He looked away. “I keep it for her, hoping one day she’ll show up and want to work things out.”

  “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Maybe not, but maybe I could have handled it differently. Instead of calling DSS, I could have just taken her out of there and…” He shrugged.

  “And maybe not. If there’s anything I’ve learned over the past three years, it’s that we can’t avoid making mistakes, and when we do, we should learn from them. Unfortunately, you can’t rewrite the past.”

  “I know.” He offered her a sad smile.

  “So what happened to your parents?”

  “My dad was killed in a car accident about seven years ago. After I called the cops on her, my mom went back to jail for possession. When she got out, she went right back to drugs and died from an overdose.”

  Erica gasped. “How awful, Max. I’m so sorry.” She couldn’t seem to find any other words. No child should have to live the way he and Lydia had, scrambling and scraping to survive.

  He sighed. “I couldn’t help her, but I’m going to do my best to help Lydia.”

  “I understand. That’s how I feel about Peter.” She paused. “I still want to see Lydia’s room. Do you mind?”

  He shook his head. “She’s only stayed there a handful of times. Mostly when Bea caught her doing something wrong. Since I actually had custody, it wasn’t something her social worker worried about. And after she turned eighteen she was out of the system anyway.”

  If Lydia had been in that room for even one minute, Erica wanted to see it. “Do you mind if I ride with you, or do you want to take me to my car?”

  “I don’t mind driving. Come on.”

  Erica’s mind clicked with renewed hope. Seeing Lydia’s room was a great start. Something the cops hadn’t had access to three years ago—simply because they hadn’t known about it. Praying the room would lead somewhere, she got into the car.

  On the drive to his house, Erica checked in with her office. Rachel Armstrong, Erica’s cousin, answered the phone. “Hey, Rachel, anything I need to know about?”

  “No, it’s kind of slow right now,” Rachel replied. “You’ve got two calls to return, though—the parent of a runaway and someone who wants a status update.”

  “Okay.” Erica gave instructions for the update and then said, “Give the parent of the runaway to Jordan. I’m working on this lead we’ve got on Molly.”

  “A lead on Molly? Really?”

  “Yes.” The hope mingled with sadness in Rachel’s voice tugged at her. Rachel had loved Molly like her own. “I’ll be praying it pans out.”

  Rachel, along with other family members, had given up hoping that Molly would ever be found. Erica didn’t hold it against any of them, but she refused to join ranks. She hoped, she believed, she prayed and she searched. And she’d never give up. Ever.

  As a result of her obsession with finding Molly, she’d pushed a lot of her family away, including her own parents. With a start, she saw the parallels between her life and Denise’s. When Denise’s husband had left her, she’d also pushed away her family and friends and focused on her job. Denise allowed her work to consume her. Erica had allowed finding Molly to do the same.

  Acting on impulse, Erica said, “What are you doing tomorrow night, Rachel? Want me to bring over some Chinese and we’ll play Scrabble until we can’t think straight?”

  “Seriously?” The stunned tone in Rachel’s voice caused Erica to wince.

  “We haven’t done that in forever. It’ll be like old times.”

  “Oh, I’d love to, Erica. That sounds like a ton of fun, but I already have plans tomorrow. What about another time?”

  “Sure, you let me know when,” Erica said. “But soon, okay? I need some girl time.”

  “You bet.”

  Erica hung up and chewed her bottom lip. Was she too late to reconnect with her cousin? She hoped not. She hoped Rachel was simply busy and not avoiding her. Vowing to do better at reaching out to the people in her life, she stared out the window.

  Cutting into her thoughts, Max asked, “How many people do you have working for you?”

  “We’re a crew of four right now.” Erica tucked the phone in her jacket pocket. “There’s me and Brandon, who was a detective on the police force but gave it up to help me put this business together. And then Brandon’s best friend Jordan joined us. He was with the FBI, but he quit.” She shot him a sidelong glance. “I still don’t know the whole story. Maybe one day he’ll feel like he can share it.”

  “You’ve got a lot of skills and resources at your disposal. What about Rachel?”

  “She’s my cousin. She’s also the administrator—she answers the phones and does whatever office work needs doing. She and I used to be much closer than we are now.” She sighed. “It’s time to do something about that.” The last sentence was more for her than for him.

  “Sounds like quite a team.”

  “I don’t mind bragging a little—it really is an amazing—”

  Max slammed his foot on the brakes and Erica’s seat belt locked hard as she rocked forward, crushing it against her chest. Tires squealed, horns blared—and Erica screamed as a green car came straight at her.

  Max turned the wheel a split second before the other vehicle hit, managing to avoid the worst of the collision. Like fingernails on a chalkboard, the green car scraped down the passenger side and Erica felt herself thrown against the seat belt once again.

  Max brought his truck to a shuddering stop.

  “What happened?” Erica gasped.

  “That guy ran a red light,” he said. He reached out and grasped her arm. “Are you all right?”

  “I think so.”

  The green car quickly backed up and spun into a three-point turn. “He’s leaving,” Erica warned.

  Max grabbed his phone. “I have a hit-and-run to report. License plate is NRV444.” He looked at her. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  Erica took a moment to gather her wits and make sure she was still in one piece. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Are you?”

  He nodded. “It looks like the only real damage is to the car, thank goodness.”

  A knock on her window made her jump. She tried to roll the window down but she couldn’t. Next she tugged on the door handle. “I can’t open the door, Max. It’s stuck.”

  He opened his door and she crawled across the seat, letting him help her out onto the asphalt. Questions from the bystanders and witnesses started instantly. The police arrived, and Erica felt her head begin to pound.

  There was something about that green car….

  An officer approached her. “Hey, you look really pale. Do you need to sit down? Do you need an ambulance?”

  She felt Max take her arm and lead her away from the cop to the curb, where he helped her sit. “Take a minute and get your breath.”

  She looked up at him. “I think I know who hit us.”

  “You saw the driver?” Max asked.

  “No. But I saw the car.”

  His eyes narrowed. “And you recognized it?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Who d
oes it belong to?”

  “Well, I didn’t get a good look, but I’m pretty sure it was my brother Peter’s.”

  FIVE

  Erica waited while Max shared all the information he could with the officers and they promised to get a BOLO—a Be On the Lookout—on the vehicle and find Peter for questioning. He looked at Erica, who had risen from the curb to pace. “Do you want me to take you home?”

  “I think we need to find Peter.”

  “The cops are going to be looking for him.”

  “I know. Which is why I want to find him first.”

  “Where do you think he is?”

  She sighed. “He has a job doing construction. When he’s sober, he’s working but it’s a different job every week. But if that was him in the car…”

  “You want to try his house first?”

  “Okay.”

  “Then let me tell the officers we’re leaving and we’ll head over to see if Peter’s at home. I’m pretty sure my truck is drivable.”

  She nodded. “I’ll see if I can reach him on his phone. Depends on if he has any minutes or not.”

  While she tried Peter, Max let the officers know they were leaving and to contact him if they needed anything else.

  As they drove, Erica tried Peter again. “He’s not answering his phone. Who knows where he is?” She chewed her bottom lip.

  “We’ll find him.” He glanced at her. “You’re going to be sore. You really flew into that seat belt.”

  “I’ll be all right. I’ll take something if I need to.”

  They rode in silence for the first few minutes then he asked, “So how do you fit in?”

  She blinked at the out-of-the-blue question. “What do you mean?”

  “With your company. You told me all about everyone who works there. What about you?”

  Erica sorted through what to tell him, then decided to just lay it out there. “After Molly disappeared, I spent all my money trying to find her. At least all the money I could get my hands on. My husband…” She gave a heavy sigh. “My marriage fell apart. We tried counseling, but by that time…” She waved a hand. “Anyway, I just couldn’t give up on finding Molly. I had to be doing something, not just waiting for the phone to ring. So I picked the career that would allow me to do that. I became a skip tracer and I specialize in finding missing children.”