Max’s eyes narrowed. “Is there a back door to this place?”
Katie nodded. “I’ve got officers on it.”
“She saw security coming toward her and took off.” She nodded toward the officer who stood near the entrance. “He said she acted like she was waiting on someone.”
“Red?” Erica asked.
Katie shook her head. “Red can’t leave the rehab center. If she does, leaves before she completes the program, her parents take a loss on what they’ve paid for her to be there.”
“Doesn’t mean she wouldn’t do it,” Max muttered.
“True, but I already called and they said Red was in the social room playing a game of chess with her grandfather.”
“So if not Red, who?”
Max sighed and shook his head. “I have no idea.”
Katie’s radio buzzed and she listened. Her eyes snapped to Erica. “Go to the nearest exit and get out.”
“Why?”
“We’ve got a bomb threat.”
Erica gasped. Max grabbed her hand. He asked, “Where?”
“The caller didn’t say. We’re trying to get a trace on where the call came from.” She motioned toward the door. “Security will be evacuating the mall immediately.”
No sooner had she spoken than the mall intercom came on announcing the building was closing due to a gas leak. “Please leave in an orderly fashion through the nearest exit.”
“Gas leak?” Erica asked.
“Saying there was a bomb threat would cause a stampede,” Max said. He cast a glance around. “This isn’t a coincidence.”
“I know.” Katie frowned at him. “You were followed.”
“Possibly.”
They fell in with the moving crowd, and Erica glanced behind her. “We can’t leave yet. We have to find her.”
“She’s not here any longer,” Max stated with certainty.
“You don’t know that.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“You can’t.” Erica stepped to the side, desperation urging her onward. She simply couldn’t leave yet. Not yet. She pushed her way through the throng of people to go in the opposite direction.
“Erica!”
Max’s frustrated shout made her grimace, but she couldn’t leave without searching for the girl who might have answers about Molly.
She didn’t believe there was a bomb.
But what if there was? Was she acting irresponsibly?
Max finally caught up with her as she caught a glimpse of Katie searching the arcade area. Erica rushed toward the detective. “Anything?”
Katie spun. “What are you still doing here?”
“There’s no bomb, Katie. It’s a trick.”
“Doesn’t matter. You need to get out.” Her eyes flashed. “Get her out of here, Max.”
He grasped her upper arm. “Come on, Erica.”
“But Lydia—”
“We’ll find her. Just not like this.” Concern hardened into determination.
And Erica realized something. He was just as determined to find Lydia as she was, and he wasn’t going to leave her behind. If there was a bomb, she wasn’t only risking her life, but his, as well. She couldn’t do that. The thought of him being hurt because of her insistence that they stay in the midst of danger nearly smothered her with fear. “Let’s go.”
She let him pull her back into the crowd heading for the exit.
“Why would someone call in a—” she glanced around at the listening ears nearby “—gas leak?”
He understood her question and shook his head. “I don’t know. Unless it was to smoke Lydia out, but the person wouldn’t have any idea where she was in the mall or which door she would leave by.”
The crowd shoved and pushed toward the exit. Erica grabbed Max’s arm to keep her balance. He steadied her and she was grateful for his support.
“Erica?”
She twisted to see who was calling her.
“What’s wrong?” Max asked.
“I thought I heard someone call my name.”
Max looked behind her, but she didn’t think he’d be able to spot anyone in this mess.
“Erica! Stop!”
This time he heard it. He swiveled his head and looked behind them.
“Do you see anyone?”
“No. Let’s get outside and we’ll see if we can figure out who’s calling you.” He turned back, keeping an arm around her shoulders, and she realized he was doing his best to protect her from the smothering press of bodies.
Just a few more feet and they’d be out the door.
A sudden stinging sensation in her lower back had her spinning and losing her balance.
“What is it?” Max asked as he righted her.
“Something stung me.”
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“My back. It hurt. I—” Dizziness hit her, her throat tightened. Awareness and fear struck at the same time. She gasped, “EpiPen.”
He caught on fast. “Where?”
“Purse,” she managed to squeak out as her airway closed and darkness took over.
Max had known fear in his life, but it was nothing compared to what he felt at the sight of the blue tinge appearing around Erica’s lips. She went limp and he caught her. His heart pounded. He had to get her help and fast.
Pushing his way through the crowd, apologizing for shoving and trampling on toes, he made it to the sidewalk, dropped to his knees and laid her down. He grabbed her purse from her shoulder and dumped the contents beside her.
“Sir? You need to move—” The officer stopped. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Not sure.” He snatched the EpiPen from the concrete. “Call an ambulance.”
“Got one standing by. You’ll have to get her to it. I can’t let them down here with a bomb threat.”
Max nodded. “I know.” The officer got on the radio while Max uncapped the EpiPen and jabbed Erica in the thigh.
Within seconds, the wheezing eased and a bit of color came back into her cheeks. Her eyes opened, but looked glazed and unfocused. “Erica, hang in there, honey. I’ve got to get you out of here. EMTs are waiting, okay?”
She gave him no response other than to shut her eyes. He threw the contents of her purse back into the bag. The officer grabbed it while Max picked her up. Sweat rolled down his back in spite of the chilly temperatures as he rushed toward the ambulance waiting a safe distance away.
Heart pounding, legs pumping, Max reached the ambulance as Erica began to stir. “What—?”
“Hold still. You passed out.”
“Bees,” she mumbled. “Allergic.”
The sting she said she’d felt on her back.
He motioned for the EMT to roll her to her side. With gentle fingers, he lifted the edge of her shirt to look at her lower back. “There.” He pointed to a red-and-white welt that looked like a bee sting.
The paramedic frowned as they rolled her back into place. “It’s November. And cold. Shouldn’t be any bees around here.”
Max’s blood whooshed through his veins. He had a bad feeling about the whole bee-sting emergency.
The EMT placed the oxygen tubing in her nose and cranked the air. “Let’s get her to the hospital. She needs to be monitored for the next few hours.”
Max nodded. “I’ll ride with her. I need to call her brother, too.”
While he watched the paramedic work on Erica, making sure she continued to breathe, Max called Brandon.
The man answered on the third ring. “Hello?” He sounded out of breath.
“This is Max. I’m on the way to the hospital with Erica.”
“What happened?” Worry coated Brandon’s question.
“A bee sting.”
Brandon gave a snort. “In this weather?”
“Yeah. Weird, right? We’ll figure it out after we know she’s all right.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
Max rubbed a hand down his face and said a prayer for Erica. The ambulance pu
lled into the Emergency entrance and within minutes Erica had been whisked away behind secure doors. Max filled out as much of the paperwork as he could, but had to admit relief when Brandon burst through the door. Max waved him over.
“How is she? Where is she?”
“Looks like she’ll be all right. I was worried there for a few minutes.” Worried sick. Scared he’d failed her. Maybe he didn’t need to worry about her working with the homeless. Maybe he needed to worry more about her being with him while he was looking for Lydia.
A sigh slipped out as he settled back to wait. And ponder the next step in the investigation. They needed to figure something out and fast. Erica had almost died. Whoever was targeting her was getting more bold. The thought terrified him.
He looked over at Brandon, who sat beside him. Quiet. Lost in his own thoughts.
“How’s the gunshot wound?” Max asked.
Brandon shrugged. “It’s healing. I turn the wrong way and I pay for it, but other than that…” He paused. “Do you mind if I ask you a question?”
“Shoot…er…go for it.”
Brandon gave a wry grin then turned serious again. “What’s with you and Erica?”
Max looked toward the door that had swung shut behind her. “I…she’s…we’re…”
“Friends?”
“Yes.” Max jumped on that.
“More than friends?”
“Yes,” he admitted more slowly. He looked Brandon in the eye. “I like her. A lot. And—” he rubbed his suddenly sweaty hands down his thighs “—I think I could love her.”
Brandon didn’t look surprised. “She’s easy to love, but she can drive you crazy.”
Max smiled. “Yeah.”
Brandon let out a slow whistle. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”
*
The door that led to the E.R. opened and a woman in a white lab coat stepped through, saving Max from having to answer that one. “Brandon?”
Brandon jumped to his feet. “That’s me.”
Max stood more slowly, trying to read the doctor’s face. Brandon asked, “How is she?”
The woman hesitated for a moment. “She’s going to be fine.”
“But…?” Max asked.
The doctor tilted her head, motioning the men to follow her into a small conference room. “I’m Doctor Caroline Watson. Erica had a reaction to what appears to be a bee sting.”
“She’s been allergic since she was a kid,” Brandon said.
Dr. Watson nodded. “Good thing she carried that EpiPen with her or she wouldn’t be here with us.”
Max’s stomach dropped to his toes. Brandon’s face paled. The doctor went on. “I have a real concern about this.”
“What’s that?”
“I’ve examined the wound site carefully.” She shook her head. “I may be wrong, but it looks like she was injected with bee venom. There’s a clear needle puncture in the middle of the welt—it’s not a sting from a bee itself.” Her eyes took in both men. “That means someone did this to her. On purpose.”
Brandon exhaled and caught Max’s eye. Max felt a little nauseous at hearing his suspicions voiced. Dr. Watson asked, “You might want to find out if she’s involved in something she shouldn’t be involved in.”
That was a given.
“We’ll take care of it.”
“I’ll have to file a police report.”
“Of course. We’ll talk to them, too.” Max swallowed hard.
“We’re going to keep her overnight for observation, but she should be all right to go home in the morning.”
Brandon said, “I’ll get Rachel to come stay with her.”
“Not your mother?” Max asked.
Brandon’s eyes shuttered. “No.”
Max realized he should have kept his mouth shut. “Right.”
The doctor’s brow lifted but she didn’t ask. Instead, she said, “You want to see her?”
“Yes.”
The word flew from Max’s lips.
He chose to ignore Brandon’s amused look and answered his ringing phone.
FOURTEEN
Erica groaned. Her head throbbed and her mouth felt dry as wool. As she gathered her thoughts, memory returned. She’d been stung. By something.
Her memory stopped there.
A knock on the door forced her to drag her eyes open. Darkness greeted her. It was nighttime?
“Erica?”
Brandon.
“Come in.” She heard the croak in her voice but couldn’t seem to turn up the volume. Brandon pushed the door open and stepped inside. Max followed, and Erica tried to sit up a little. When her muscles simply wouldn’t cooperate, she gave up and studied them. Two men she cared for very much.
They both looked drawn and worried. Weary.
Max stepped to the side of her bed and gripped her fingers. Her heart picked up speed to match the pounding in her head. The feel of his hand wrapped around hers gave her comfort. And even felt like a possible lifeline in the midst of everything. He asked, “How are you feeling?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.”
“You’ve been out for a while.”
She tilted her head. “And you’ve been busy. Did you find Lydia?” Strength returned at the thought.
“No. But Katie called. She watched the mall video and got a pretty good shot of someone working their way through the crowd to get behind you.”
She frowned. “Okay. Who?” Brandon and Max exchanged a look. “Who?” she demanded.
“Peter,” Max finally said.
“Peter?” she whispered. “But why?” She remembered thinking someone had called her name. “He was there?”
“Yes. Clear as a bell, and it was obvious he was trying to get close to you. As soon as he did, that’s when you cried out and said something stung you.” Max sighed. “I was so busy trying to get you out the door and keep you from getting trampled, I didn’t see him.”
“But he’s on the video.”
“Yes.”
“What about Lydia?”
Brandon nodded. “We watched the video of the arcade room. She was definitely there and it looked like she was waiting for someone.” He ran a hand over his eyes. “And Peter was there, too.”
Max squeezed her fingers. “Erica, someone definitely injected you with bee venom.”
She swallowed hard, grateful she could. The sensation of her throat closing up was one of the worst she’d ever experienced. “Then that means whoever did this is someone who knows me pretty well and knows that I’m allergic to bees.”
“Which means it could be Peter.”
“No.” She shook her head. “He wouldn’t do that. He has no reason to kill me.” Another exchanged look between the men grated on her nerves. Brandon looked torn, not wanting to believe it, either, but he was a black-and-white personality. He’d seen the video, and she knew he wasn’t convinced Peter was innocent. “Where is Peter?”
“We don’t know. We’re looking for him.”
“Seems like we’re looking for everyone without much success,” she muttered.
No one argued with her.
The knock on the door made her jump. Max took a defensive stance and Brandon moved to open it.
It took Erica a moment to process whom she was seeing. “Mom?” she gasped.
Brandon stood with his mouth open.
Shelby Ann Hayes stood five feet five inches tall. She had her auburn curls pulled away from her face with two clips. Erica thought she spotted some gray at the temples.
The woman smiled and approached the bed. “Saw your name on the chart and thought I’d come see how you were doing.”
Erica tried to remember the last time she’d seen her mother. At least a year, maybe longer. “What are you doing here?” She blurted the words, then wanted to recall them.
Shelby stopped, her confident expression fading to uncertainty. “Like I said, I just wanted to see how you were doing.”
Max stepped to the side
like he might slip out the door. Erica grabbed his hand. For some reason, she wanted—no, needed—his support. Brandon still gaped like he couldn’t find enough oxygen. Then his mouth snapped shut and his face reddened. “Since when do you care?”
Her mother sighed and said softly, “I care, Brandon. So does your father. We did the best we could.”
And Erica thought maybe they had. Her parents had just been too young to have kids. At sixteen Shelby Hayes should have been a cheerleader, not a mother.
“It’s a little late,” Brandon growled.
“No. It’s not,” Erica countered. She met her mother’s eyes, suddenly sick of the distance, the roller-coaster emotions associated with her parents. And Erica had been the one who pulled away after Molly went missing—she couldn’t blame her parents for that.
Her mother had offered an olive branch of sorts. Erica decided to take it. “I’m doing all right. I’ll probably go home tomorrow.”
“Do you need anything?”
“No. But thanks.”
Her mother looked uncertain, nervous and agitated. She kept shooting glances at Brandon, then at Max. Erica introduced him while Brandon glared.
“Well.” Shelby backed toward the door, which Brandon didn’t waste any time opening. “I guess I’ll check on you later. Or in the morning…or sometime.”
“Sure, Mom. You do that.” The woman turned to leave and Erica called, “Wait!” Her mother looked back over her shoulder and Erica shifted forward on the bed. “Do you know where Peter is?”
Shelby’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “No. I’ve tried to call him several times over the past couple of months. He hasn’t called me back.”
“If you hear from him, will you call me?”
“I’ll call.”
Erica felt the shock set in after her mother had left the room. Brandon stepped toward her. “Why are you being nice to her?”
She stared at him. “I’m tired of being mad at her.”
“Mad? You should hate her.”
Erica looked at Max. “For what, Brandon? Working all the time to support us? At least she was never on drugs, we had warm beds to sleep in and she occasionally hugged us.” She swallowed hard. “She wasn’t a great mother, and Dad wouldn’t win any Father of the Year awards, but they were kids when they had us. They didn’t want children, Brandon, but they didn’t give us up or separate us or abuse us.”
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