Denise shrugged. “It’s the way it is. It’s not fair, but whatever.”
“I owe you an apology,” Erica said.
Denise’s brow rose. “Whatever for?”
“For not being there when Todd left you.”
Her friend’s jaw tightened. “That was a pretty bad time in my life.”
“I know.” Erica dropped her head. “I was so consumed with my own marriage and Molly that I wasn’t there for you like I should have been.”
Denise sighed. “I don’t know that it would have helped if you had been. You couldn’t have done anything.” She shook her head. “I wasn’t exactly there for you when Andrew walked out.”
“You let me cry on your shoulder many times in the three weeks before you had to leave.”
Denise grabbed her hand. “I just want you to know that was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life.”
Erica gave her a soft smile. “I understood.” She drew in a deep breath. “So…should I finish up the china cabinet?”
“Sure. I’m going to see what I can do about that bathroom in the hall upstairs.”
Erica turned back and within minutes finished packing up the cabinet. She took another box and the tape and went down the hall to the guest bedroom and stepped inside.
She could hear Denise upstairs on the phone once again as she set the box on the floor. Denise’s belongings lay strewn around the room. Erica was turning to leave, figuring Denise would want to take care of this room herself, when her eye landed on a photo album on the bedside end table.
Curious, she picked it up and sat on the bed.
She’d wondered about Denise’s life ever since the woman had moved to New Mexico. In their weekly conversations, Denise had talked about her job, the friends she’d made and the fact that she didn’t miss anything about her hometown except her best friend.
Erica opened the album and stared down at her daughter’s face.
*
Max found the witness from the zoo at a church potluck dinner in the gym, also known as the Family Life Center. It had taken them only about thirty minutes to track the woman down, and then Brandon had returned to join Jordan at the stakeout at Bea’s house.
Max stood at the door and scanned the crowd.
A woman in her late fifties stepped away from the food line. “You look exactly like you described yourself.”
He smiled, anxiety tightening his gut. If his suspicions were correct, Erica would be devastated.
“Mrs. White?”
“Yes.”
“I appreciate your being willing to do this.”
“It’s not a problem. That day has haunted me.” She pressed a hand to her lips. “They never found the little girl, did they?”
“No, ma’am.”
They found a couple of chairs and Max handed her the photo album. Mrs. White settled in and opened it in her lap. “I remember watching the news, praying they’d find her. Eventually, the news stopped running the story.” She looked up. “They ran something the other day about it, didn’t they?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She nodded and went back to the album, flipping pages all the way to the end. Max’s heart stopped when she didn’t point to anyone. It had been a long shot, but he’d hoped…
“Nothing?”
She shook her head but didn’t hand the album back to him. Instead, she closed her eyes. “The woman I saw that day was all alone. She looked lonely and kind of sad. I never really saw her face, but I remember her specifically because of her coat.”
“Her coat?”
She nodded and opened the album to one of the pages in the beginning. “I have one almost just like it. It seemed like every time I turned around that day, I was seeing this woman in my coat.”
“Why would you have seen her so much? You weren’t with the day care.”
“I was with another school. We were all following the same guide around the zoo.”
“What about the man that was spotted?” He pointed to a picture of Peter. “Did you ever see him there?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t notice him.” She pointed to a photo. “This looks like the coat the woman was wearing that day. In fact, I’m pretty sure it’s the same one.”
She turned the album around and showed him the photo. She was pointing to a picture of Denise.
“But you said the woman had curly red hair. This one has brown hair.”
“She did. But that coat and those sunglasses look identical to the ones I saw. The only thing different is the hair color.” She tapped the picture. “This is her, I know it.”
“A wig,” he whispered. “She wore a wig.” So it wasn’t Rachel, the cousin she trusted. But the person’s identity and subsequent betrayal would still be devastating to Erica.
A cold ball of fear centered itself in the pit of his stomach. He thanked the woman and called Erica’s number as he rushed to his car. Her phone rang four times, then went to voice mail. He hung up and tried again. Same thing.
His phone rang, distracting him for a moment. He ignored it, slipped behind the wheel and called Chris. As soon as the man came on the line, he said, “Denise kidnapped Molly. Get Erica out of there. Play it cool if you can—don’t tip Denise off. I’ve got backup on the way coming in silent.”
As soon as he hung up with Chris, his phone rang. He pulled out of the church parking lot even as he answered.
“We’ve got Lydia,” Brandon said. “She’s scared out of her wits. I’ve called Rachel to come stay with us, hoping a female presence will calm her down.”
“Good idea.” He should have thought of that. He filled Brandon in on where he was headed and why. “The witness picked her out of the photo album, Brandon.”
“Denise!” The shout made his ears ring.
“I’ve got law enforcement on the way there now. Chris is going to get her out of the house, hopefully with no problem.”
“That’s not good.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I’ll be there as soon as Rachel gets here. Jordan can handle this.”
An idea hit him. “Let me talk to Lydia.” He turned left, then right. Almost there.
“She refuses to take the phone.”
Anger infused Max. “Put her on speakerphone. She has to hear this.”
“Go.”
“Listen to me, Lydia. I don’t know if you had anything to do with this kidnapping or not, but a woman is in danger because of the person who took Molly. I need your cooperation, not your silence. Hate me if you want, but help me save Molly’s mother.”
A sob sounded.
“Lydia? Talk to me. Help us. If you don’t, you could find yourself in jail, and I don’t think I could handle seeing my baby sister in that awful place.”
“Oh, Max. I’m sorry.” She was crying.
And in that horrible moment, Max had to face the facts: his sister had had something to do with Molly’s disappearance. But what? What had been her role?
He forced his emotions away. He’d deal with them later. Right now, he had to do everything he possibly could to get Erica away from Denise.
“Get yourself together and help me. I need to know whatever you can tell me about Denise’s state of mind.”
“At first, she was so nice. I thought she was helping me. I thought I was helping her. But then I saw that the little girl I was babysitting was really Molly James. I was going to take her back to her mother, but then they left town and Denise said she’d kill me if I said anything.”
She was crying so hard now it was difficult to understand her. “The men with you are going to bring you to me, okay? I may need you.”
“No! I’ll tell you everything, but you gotta just let me leave, okay?”
“Let’s see how it all plays out, Lydia.”
He couldn’t just let her leave, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Not now.
“Max, she tried to kill me twice already.”
“Yeah,” Max hardened his jaw. “Th
ere’s been a lot of that going around.”
“I thought if I could just disappear, she’d leave me alone. Then they put my face on television and everyone started looking for me.”
“You should have come in, honey.”
“I couldn’t! Even in jail, she could get to me. I’m just so tired.” Sobs broke through, and Max heard Brandon come back on the line.
“We’ll be there shortly.”
“I’m going to check back in with Chris and make sure he’s got her out of there.”
He hung up and dialed Chris’s number once again as he did his best to beat the cops to Denise’s father’s house.
*
Erica wasn’t sure how long she sat there and stared at that photo.
Shock bombarded her. Molly was alive.
Her blood pounded in her veins as her heart beat so hard she thought it might explode. She flipped the pages. Pictures of Molly. From infancy to now, at the age of six.
How did Denise have this? Why?
Her hands shook. She started at the beginning of the album again, staring at the first picture. It was Molly as an infant, a photo Erica had taken and given to Denise.
She flipped to the last picture. Molly—older, but Molly all the same.
Her baby.
In this photo album on Denise’s nightstand.
She felt frozen. Disconnected from reality.
And then time sped up. She had to call Katie. And Max.
Max. He was right outside, still patiently waiting for her to come out. She snapped the album shut and replaced it on the nightstand as her brain scrambled to put everything together. She stood and turned to find Denise in the doorway.
“What are you doing in here?”
Erica’s blood hummed as she bit back the desire to scream at her former friend and demand to know where Molly was. Instead, she took a deep breath. She couldn’t blow this, couldn’t let Molly slip through her fingers once again.
“I…I thought I’d see what else I could pack up for you. I didn’t realize this was the room you’d been using.” She picked up the box and the tape. “I was just going to check out the den area. Make sure you got everything.”
Denise nodded and smiled. “I have to return a couple of phone calls. Don’t worry about this room…it’s mostly my stuff. Why don’t you help me with the garage?”
“Sure,” Erica managed, nearly choking on the word. “I can do that.”
Denise turned and left.
Erica swallowed hard. How long had Denise been standing there? Had she seen her looking at the album? Her phone was in her purse on the kitchen table, and Max was outside. She would be fine. She tried not to dwell on the fact that Denise—her best friend—had tried to kill her. Several times.
The betrayal cut deeper than Erica could have ever imagined. This woman had stolen her child and tried to kill her. Anger churned with the fear as she moved toward the bedroom door.
She had one goal: getting her daughter back. All she had to do was get out of the house safely without tipping Denise off that she knew what the woman had done.
On shaky legs she stepped out of the bedroom. The hall stretched before her, empty.
Where was Denise? She said she had to make some phone calls, yet Erica didn’t hear her talking. Her stomach twisted itself into knots, perspiration dotting her brow. I’m coming, Molly. I’m coming.
Erica listened, trying to pinpoint where Denise might be. But she still heard nothing. Had she already gone into the garage to make her phone calls while she packed?
Or was she waiting for Erica so she could ambush her?
Nausea swirled, her heart pounded.
No. Stay calm. Denise didn’t know she’d seen the pictures.
Or did she? She’d been in the doorway when Erica put the album back on the end table. How long had she been standing there?
Erica had to get out of the house. She couldn’t confront Denise, not this way, not all alone with no one realizing she was in the house with a killer.
A knock sounded on the front door.
Erica made a beeline for it.
As she passed the living room, a blur moved to her right, pain lanced up the back of her head and down her neck and then blackness reached out to snatch her.
SEVENTEEN
Max pulled up to the curb two doors down from the house and parked. He hopped out of the vehicle and saw Chris on the front porch standing to the side and knocking on the door. Foreboding set in. He shouldn’t still be knocking. What was taking so long?
“Chris?”
The man turned, his eyes flashing. “I can’t get either of them to come to the door. Denise told me to hang on, but that was the last thing I heard.”
Max followed Chris’s example and stood to the side of the door. He raised his knuckles and rapped. “Erica?”
No answer.
Chris growled, “We need backup.”
“It’s on the way. This neighborhood is off the beaten path—it’s going to take them a bit to get here. I got here fast because I was just a few miles away.” He knocked again. “Erica? Denise?”
“Just a minute! I’m in the middle of a phone call.”
He heard the impatience in Denise’s voice. Why wouldn’t Erica answer him? What was taking so long? Why wouldn’t Denise open the door?
He realized he needed the answer to those questions. And now.
“She has no reason to suspect we know anything, right?” Chris asked quietly.
Max thought for a second. “No. But what if she has reason to suspect that Erica knows something?”
He looked at Chris, whose narrowed eyes and tense jaw said he wasn’t happy about that possibility. Chris asked, “You want to knock it down?”
Max hesitated. He hadn’t heard anything from the inside that caused him concern—other than Erica’s lack of response.
“Might be better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission in this case. If she does suspect something by the time backup arrives, things could get ugly.” He glanced at the still-empty road. “Will you check and see what their ETA is? I’m going to see if there’s an unlocked door or window I can slip in.”
Chris nodded and pulled his phone from his pocket as he leaned forward slightly and peered through the window. He jerked back with a grim frown. “She’s got a gun.”
“What?” Max’s mouth went dry with fear for Erica.
“I just caught a glimpse of it.” He shifted to look in again. “I can’t see anything else. Just her back now.”
“Where’s Erica?”
“I can’t see her.”
Max felt his heart start to thud double time. Erica was in danger. Again. “Then we don’t want to kick the door in—yet. Denise doesn’t know we know anything. I’ll try one more time—try to keep her talking until backup gets here.”
Prayers on his lips, he lifted his fist and knocked.
*
Erica groaned. Why did her head feel like it was going to explode? She tried to open her eyes, but it seemed like lead weights pressed down on them.
The pounding continued.
“Go away!” A shrill voice cut into Erica’s brain. She winced at the pain.
“Let me in! I need to talk to Erica!”
Max?
“She’s in the bathroom!”
Erica tried to block the pounding and shouting. With her eyes closed, she concentrated on keeping her stomach settled.
“Wake up, Erica,” the voice hissed.
Fear shot through her, but she couldn’t figure out why.
Nausea swirled harder.
The pounding on the door continued.
Something nudged her side. She ignored it. A sharp jab in her ribs made her gasp, and she opened her eyes. Debilitating pain sliced through her brain, and she gagged.
“A headache, huh?”
Denise. Her best friend. Her confidante. Her shoulder to cry on.
Her…daughter’s kidnapper.
“Denise…why?”
Erica’s eyes finally focused. They landed on the weapon in the woman’s left hand. “Why didn’t you just kill me?”
She’d almost prefer it to the pain in her head.
“Are you not listening? Get him out of here then go in the garage and get in the car. We’re leaving. Now get up.”
With a gasp and a groan, Erica forced herself to roll to her side. She got on all fours and pushed herself up. Dizziness hit her; nausea won out.
Erica raced to the kitchen trash can and lost what little food she had in her stomach. She sank to the floor and held her head in her hands, praying for relief.
“Denise, I need to talk to Erica.” Max sounded firm and in control. Calm and detached.
“Hold on, she’s coming!”
Erica took a deep breath and watched the woman from the corner of her eye.
Denise wasn’t quite as calm and in control as she wanted Erica to believe. Her hands shook, her eyes darted and Erica knew she was thinking, trying to work out a plan that would allow her to escape. She also knew that if Max wasn’t outside pounding on the door, she’d be dead.
And Denise would be gone.
If Denise managed to disappear, Erica would never find Molly. She shut her eyes and prayed while Denise paced and Max continued to insist on talking to her.
“Get over there and get rid of him.” Her eyes were cold. “Or I’ll make sure you never see your little girl again.”
“Hold on, Max! I’m coming.” Erica managed to say the words above a normal volume, but she paid for it with another wave of nausea. Bending over, she closed her eyes and waited for it to pass as she wondered if he’d heard her.
The pounding on the door stopped. Her head was another matter.
She made her way to the door. “Max, there’s…um…so much stuff blocking the door. You’ll…um…have to just hang on a second while we move it.”
“Then let me in the back door.”
“Too much stuff there, too. Just…give us a minute.” She met Denise’s eyes. Satisfaction gleamed there.
Erica’s legs gave out and she sank to the floor once again. She dropped her head and cradled it in her hands while she spun scenarios. “Can you at least get me a bag of ice for my head?”
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