“I don’t know.” He raised a shaky hand. “She didn’t look all that great, though. Must be taking a toll on her.” He turned again and went to the room down the hall.
“Denise Tanner?” Max asked.
“I can’t believe this. I just talked to her last week. She said her father was declining, but she didn’t say anything about coming this way.”
“Maybe it was really sudden.” Max saw her glance at her phone and figured she wanted to call her friend. “I’ll get out of here. Are you sure you’ll be all right with him here?”
“Yes. Peter’s not the one after me.”
Max pursed his lips and thought about it. “We don’t know that for sure.”
Erica placed her hands on her hips. “Well, I do.”
Max gave a slow nod. “Just like I know Lydia wouldn’t be involved in a kidnapping.” Erica’s face flushed. “Call me if you need anything else tonight, promise?”
She nodded. “I promise. I really appreciate your help.”
“Anytime.” He stepped onto the porch. “At least the rain’s stopped.”
As Max walked down the steps, movement to his right caught his attention. He froze and squinted toward the dark shadows. “Who’s there?”
The shadow darted around the corner of the house. Max chased after it.
“Max?” He could hear Erica calling after him, but had no time to stop and fill her in.
“Stay in the house!”
Within a second, Max was around the side of the house and staring into inky blackness. The neighborhood streetlights didn’t reach back far enough to illuminate the area behind the house and the quarter moon wasn’t any help, either.
The light drizzle turned to a downpour again. Old cop instincts humming, Max pulled his weapon from his holster and clicked the safety off. Moving forward, eyes probing, he listened. A footstep to his left? He whirled, gun ready.
A figure slithered behind a tree. He moved toward it, rounding the tree with his gun outstretched. Nothing.
Heart hammering with adrenaline coursing through him, he placed his back against the tree and waited. Silence. The cold began to settle in his bones. His toes turned numb. For ten minutes, he stood in the dark, listening, hearing nothing but the night sounds.
In his mind, he pictured the person using the same strategy—holding still and silent, waiting for Max to make the first move.
“Max?”
Erica.
He kept the gun in his hand but lowered it as he heard her approaching. “Max, are you all right? Answer me.”
Max kept his eyes glued to the area around him. He saw nothing. Heard nothing.
“I’m here, Erica.”
He ground his teeth in frustration and walked toward her, keeping his senses tuned to anything out of the ordinary. As he approached, he saw the weapon in her hand. “He’s gone.”
“Who’s gone? You scared me when you took off like that.”
“I told you to stay in the house.”
“And I don’t sit back and wait very well when someone’s in danger because of me.” Together, they walked back to the house. Max glanced over his shoulder, feeling like he and Erica were one big bull’s-eye.
Once they reached the porch, she asked, “What did you see?”
He pointed. “Someone was trying to look in that window.”
She spun to her left. “That’s my bedroom window.”
He opened the door. “Is Peter still here?”
“I’m still here.” Peter walked out, fresh from the shower. He looked much better, and seemed entirely oblivious to what had just happened. “I’m going to get something to eat if that’s all right.”
“Yeah. Sure.” She waved him into the kitchen.
Once Peter disappeared around the corner, Max asked, “Do you have an alarm system?”
“Yes.”
“Turn it on, okay?”
“Of course.” She crossed her arms in a self-hug and shivered. “I think Peter’s going to end up staying here tonight.”
Max reached out and rubbed her arms, trying to chase away her chill. Then he surprised himself by pulling her into a gentle hug. And she surprised him by letting him do it. The feel of her in his arms felt right. Like something that was meant to be. Without letting go, he asked, “You think Peter’ll be sober enough to help you if you need it?”
She pulled away from him and blew out a breath as she glanced out into the night. “I don’t know. Maybe whoever it was won’t be back.”
Max wasn’t sure he agreed and mentally reviewed a plan to make sure Erica was safe tonight. In the meantime, he’d hold on to the memory of what it felt like to hold her next to his heart—and pray he had the opportunity to do it again.
*
Erica shut the door, her hand still on the knob, the feel of Max’s embrace a strong sensation. Within the circle of his arms, she’d felt safe. Comforted. She wanted to beg him not to go, ask him to hold her and—
She heard Peter in the kitchen. Wanting something she couldn’t have would get her nowhere. Max was off-limits.
At least for now.
She walked into the kitchen. “Are you staying here tonight?” She wasn’t quite sure whether she wanted him to or not.
He looked up from the refrigerator, an apple in his left hand. “Do you mind?”
“No.” She bit her lip then said, “I want to help you, Peter.”
“Why? You still think I had something to do with Molly’s disappearance.” His bitterness filled the air. “Why would you want to help someone who could do such an awful thing?”
Erica blinked. “No, I don’t. You were cleared.”
“But you doubted,” he said. “You really thought I would do something so vile as to kidnap my own niece—” He waved a hand and a deep sadness entered his eyes. “Never mind.”
“Well, what was I supposed to think?” she demanded. “You came to me only a few weeks before, begging for money to shoot up your arm or snort up your nose. You shoved me against the wall when I refused and you raided my wallet for a lousy twenty bucks.” Anger at the memory crested. She stepped forward and jabbed a finger in his chest. He flinched while she continued. “And you told me if I didn’t give you what you wanted, you’d find a way to get it. What was I supposed to think?”
She couldn’t stop the sob that broke free.
Erica whirled and went into the den. She sank onto the couch and tried to get a grip on her emotions even as tears ran freely down her cheeks.
Peter followed her, jaw tight, eyes narrowed. “I don’t remember that.”
“Well, you were high. It’s not surprising you don’t remember.” She swiped the tears and sniffed.
“I’m going to go.” He started for the door.
“That’s right, Peter. Run away. Because that’s always worked so well for you.”
He turned on her. “Look, Erica, you don’t understand…you…” He stopped and dropped his head. “This isn’t why I came here tonight. I wanted to apologize for earlier.”
“For what?”
“For letting Polo follow me here the other night. For whatever’s going on that would make someone steal my car and try to frame me for hurting you. For—” he threw his hands out “—for whatever I need to apologize for.”
Erica stared at her brother. “What is this, Peter? You’re acting strange.”
His eyes changed, hardened, yet the conflicted sadness remained. “Because I offered you an apology? What do you want from me?”
“I want you to go to rehab and quit destroying your life!”
“Maybe I want to destroy it so you’ll quit trying to run it.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them, she thought she saw a sheen of tears there. But before she could question him, he strode to the front door, opened it and walked out into the night.
“Peter, wait!”
But he was already heading down the street, his phone pressed to his ear, shoulders hunched against the cold. “Come back!” He i
gnored her. Within five minutes, a car pulled up beside him and Peter climbed in. The vehicle roared to the stop sign at the end of the street and turned right. She had no hope of getting him to come back now.
Erica dropped her face into her hands and let the sobs come.
Two minutes later, a knock disrupted her crying jag. Rising to her feet, she snagged the gun from the top drawer of the desk and peered out the window.
Max.
She opened the door. “Why did you come back?”
His eyes swept her face. “I never left. I thought you might need me.” He shut the door.
Her lower lip trembled. “I’m fine.” She set the gun on the foyer table and gave her wet face an angry swipe.
“Sure you are.”
His sympathy undid her. The sobs broke free once again and he pulled her into his arms. At first Erica wasn’t quite sure what to think, but the blessed feeling of comfort washed over her and she hung on to it until she was able to rein in the tears.
When she opened her eyes, she found herself snuggled against Max’s chest and sitting on the couch. Embarrassed that she didn’t realize he’d led her there, she pulled away and scrubbed her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“What for?”
“For blubbering all over you. I barely know you.” She hiccuped and sniffed. “But thanks for the shoulder. I needed it.”
He smiled. “Jordan is outside watching your house. He and I are taking shifts. Brandon tried to insist on helping, but the pain meds were kicking.”
“Poor Brandon.” The ever-present guilt tugged at her.
“He’ll be all right. I asked for the four-to-eight shift so I could take you to get your car in the morning.” He paused. “And talk you into breakfast again.”
Erica sighed and pressed her fingertips against her eyelids, hoping to relieve some of the pressure. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”
For the second time that night, Max moved to the door. “See you in a few hours. Get some rest if you can.”
Erica nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
Erica leaned against the door as she turned the lock. A quick check out the window showed Max driving away and Jordan on guard.
She shook her head at the thought that someone wanted to hurt her. Who? A disgruntled spouse who was sitting in jail for kidnapping because she’d caught up with him? An angry ex-spouse who now had to pay child support? Any number of people had a bone to pick with her, but no one really stood out in her mind.
Stop searching for her or I’ll kill her. The caller’s words still echoed in her ears and Erica couldn’t help but wonder, if she kept searching for her daughter, would that lead to Molly’s death?
Would it lead to her own death?
NINE
At eight o’clock Thursday morning, Max felt a dart of pleasure at the sight of Erica stepping out of her house and walking toward him. In jeans and a sweater, with her auburn hair pulled up in a neat ponytail, she looked comfortable, peaceful.
He wished he could say the same for his nerves. They were on edge. Probably from the gallon of coffee he’d drunk over the last three hours.
She slipped into the passenger seat. “Morning.”
“Hey.” He handed her a cup of coffee and a bagel. “Compliments of Brandon. He stopped by about thirty minutes ago.”
“What?” She grimaced. “I wish he wouldn’t push himself so hard.”
“He cares about you.”
“I know. He’s a good brother. I just wish he would take it easy sometimes.”
“Yeah. Like you do, right?”
She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed. He swallowed a bite of the bagel and took a sip of coffee. “Bea agreed to meet us at eight thirty. She has a doctor’s appointment at ten.”
“That works for me. Did you get any rest last night?”
“A bit. You?”
“A bit.”
Which meant not much. “Did you get hold of your friend, Denise?”
She winced. “No. I didn’t even try. I plan to as soon as we’re finished with Mrs. Harrison.”
Max kept his mouth shut, but thought if a woman Erica considered her best friend hadn’t bothered to call and let her know she was in town, then maybe she needed a new best friend. Like him, maybe.
“I appreciate you arranging this.”
He shrugged. “I’ve been by to see Bea several times in the last few days and the story is always the same. She hasn’t seen Lydia but will call if she does.”
Erica played with her napkin, and he could almost see her thinking. “Well, I haven’t talked to her,” she said. “I want to see what she has to say to me.”
He had a feeling it wouldn’t be anything new, but he supposed she needed to hear it herself. “What makes you think she’ll tell you anything different than what she’s told me?”
“I don’t think she will, necessarily. But I won’t know until I try.”
He finished off the bagel and cranked the car. “Then let’s do it. She’s expecting us anytime now.” As he pulled away from the curb, he said, “I did some research on Lydia’s calls.”
“What do you mean?”
“I bought her a cell phone not too long ago and I get the bill. I went through the latest one and found something interesting.”
Erica lifted a brow. “What’d you find?”
“Lydia made several phone calls to a construction company and got one return call from the same business.”
“Why is that weird?”
“For someone living on the streets and doing drugs, it just struck me as kind of strange.”
She nodded. “Okay, so did you call the number?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“I got voice mail. We’ll try again a little later. I want to know what kind of business Lydia had with them.”
“Won’t the cops have questioned them already?”
He shook his head. “I’m not sure. If they did, Katie didn’t mention it.”
“Okay, sounds good to me.”
Max looked in the rearview mirror. No one followed. At least no one obvious. His mind worked the puzzle of his sister’s ability to hide so well when he knew most of her hiding places.
She may have found a new one. At least, he hoped she did. Otherwise, her disappearance didn’t bode well. Had Lydia escaped her attacker two nights ago only to fall into the wrong hands?
He sent up a brief prayer and a desperate plea for the Lord to keep the girl safe.
Erica watched Max’s strong hands grip the wheel. She inhaled, liking his fresh, clean scent. He smelled…good. Really good. He must have showered before coming over in the wee hours of the morning. She wondered if he’d done that for her.
She thought about his loss. A fiancée. Someone he’d loved enough to want to spend the rest of his life with her.
She must have been a special woman.
And she’d been killed by a homeless person. Her heart ached for him even as it thumped a little harder at his nearness.
Her attraction to him made her frown as she watched him drive. What was she going to do with this pull she felt for him?
What could she do with it?
A plan formed in her mind. What if she invited him to spend some time with her at the shelter? Introduced him to some of the regulars and let him see that the man who killed his fiancée was an aberration? That the homeless man’s act of murder was not the norm?
She felt sure he knew this in his head, but had a feeling his heart needed to learn it.
She watched him. He was as lost in his own thoughts as she. Warmth settled in her belly as she remembered his sweet care when she’d cried on his shoulder. Longing swept through her—oh, to have that on a daily basis. To have someone next to her, someone in her life to support and offer support in return.
That would be so wonderful.
But she couldn’t have that with Max. What if his sister was guilty of having something to do with Molly’s kidnapping? What would happen
then?
She knew the answer to that.
Max would do everything in his power to help the girl stay out of jail; he would fight for her no matter what.
And Erica would be just as determined to see Lydia Powell pay for whatever part she played in the crime that had broken her heart.
Max’s sister was too big of a barrier to get past.
She bit her lip and looked out the window. Max Powell might be good-looking and make her pulse pound a little faster when she was around him, but that didn’t mean she could fall for him. Because when his sister was charged, he would be forced to choose sides.
And Erica had no doubt which side he would choose.
For her own sake, she needed to guard her heart.
Lydia may be innocent, a little voice whispered.
Erica ignored it. Lydia was the first thing in three years that looked like a solid lead and there was no chance she was going to let her feelings for Max Powell get in the way.
Erica would find Lydia, and find out what she knew.
No matter what.
*
Max pulled up to the curb of Bea Harrison’s home. “She was old when Lydia lived here,” he told Erica. “At least it seemed that way to me. I think she’s around seventy now.”
“Seventy’s not that old these days.” She shot him an amused glance.
He gave her a wry grin. “I have to admit, the older I get, the younger seventy seems. It wasn’t too long ago I thought thirty was the equivalent of having one foot in the grave. Now I’ll be thirty in three months.” He shook his head and looked up to see Bea standing at the screen door. “Come on, she’s waiting on us.”
They climbed from the vehicle and Max hunched his shoulders against the chill. Thanksgiving would be here soon. He swallowed at the thought. Another holiday without a family of his own. This time of year sent his emotions spinning.
Anger over his childhood and grief over his fiancée surged to the surface often. Technically, he still had Lydia, but who knows if she would show up for a meal?
Or if she would even be able to come. If she was sitting in jail, or on the run, a happy family celebration would most likely be out of the question.
He sighed at his sarcasm. Focus on the positive, right?
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