Hide and Seek

by Lynette Eason

  “I don’t know that I want to do that.”

  She stared at him. “Well, I think we have to. We have no idea how this is all going to turn out, and I don’t want to put you in the position of having to choose between Lydia and me.”

  Max pulled her back against him while he thought about what Erica had said. Even as he held her, he wondered what he’d do if it came down to making that choice.

  He couldn’t abandon Lydia. He wouldn’t give up on her.

  And he couldn’t give up this woman who had so filled his heart in such a short time that he was almost willing to call his feelings for her love.

  Which scared him, for a whole bunch of reasons.

  Lord, I’m going to need Your help.

  “I don’t think it’s going to come to that,” he finally said.

  She gave him a sad smile. “Let’s hope not.”

  Her phone rang and she pulled it from her pocket. She listened for a moment then sat straight up. “You did? When?” Her eyes locked onto his. “I’ll be right there.”

  “What?”

  “Someone saw Lydia eating breakfast at the shelter.”

  Max felt his gut twist. He knew what her next move was going to be. He reached for his keys even as she stood and shoved her feet into the shoes she’d kicked off.

  She looked at him. “You’re not going to try and talk me out of going?”

  “Nope.”

  “Good decision.”

  “I figured.” He opened the door and followed her out as he called Brandon’s number. “I’ll drive.”

  She didn’t argue.

  Max drove them to the shelter with a familiar tightness in his belly. He hated that place and all it represented. He’d avoided it for the past four years, refusing to drive past it if at all possible. Now in the span of two days he was making yet another visit.

  He’d lost his mind.

  Or fallen really hard.

  Or both.

  Ten minutes later, he pulled into the parking lot and told his racing heart to slow down. Erica was out of the truck and bolting for the door.

  “Erica, wait!”

  She paused for a slight second, her impatience clear. He caught up fast and they entered together. The smells hit him again. Just like before, a mixture of fried chicken, pine cleaner, unwashed bodies and air freshener.

  But he also noted the atmosphere of calm once again. It wasn’t a cheerful, homey place, but it wasn’t a cold institution, either. Patrons sat at picnic tables in a large cafeteria, eating and chatting.

  He processed the information as his eyes scanned the area, desperately searching.

  And not seeing the one person he wanted to see.

  “Where is she?” Erica asked. He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled out Lydia’s picture and began going table to table, asking people if they’d seen her.

  He saw Erica make a beeline toward the rotund black woman in the pink warm-up suit. Tess, if he remembered correctly.

  The two hugged, and Max went back to showing Lydia’s picture. Finally, a young woman with a toddler in her lap said, “I saw her a few minutes ago.” She looked around. “She was sitting by herself and looked real sad.”

  Hope leaped inside him. “Did you see where she went?”

  “She left when you walked in.” The woman pointed. “Went right out the back.”

  Max bolted for the back door.

  “Max?”

  Erica’s questioning voice stopped him for a fraction of a second. “She went out the back a few minutes ago.”

  Erica left her friend’s side and followed him.

  *

  They pushed through the back door of the kitchen and Erica glanced around, disappointment washing over her. “She managed to disappear again.”

  “But she’s around here somewhere.”

  Erica stood still as half an idea came to her. “We need to stop chasing her.”

  “What?” Max spun toward her, disbelief on his face.

  She shook her head. “We need to give her a reason to come to us.”

  Max appeared to think that over. “Okay. How do you propose we do that?”

  “I haven’t worked out all the details, but…what if we…” She paused. “No, it’ll have to be just you.”

  “What?”

  “What if you go on the news and make a plea for her to come home?”

  “What if she doesn’t see it? And to be honest, she probably wouldn’t care if she did.”

  Erica chewed on her bottom lip. “I feel sure she’s watching the news every chance she gets.” She pursed her lips. “When you’re one of the top stories, you can’t help yourself. And I bet Lydia will care more than you think about seeing you making such a public plea.”

  He swiped a hand down his face. “I suppose it’s worth a try.” He pulled out his phone. “Let me make some calls.”

  Erica’s phone vibrated. “Hello?”

  After a pause, Erica heard, “Hi, it’s Denise.”

  “Denise? Are you okay?”

  “He’s gone.” Sorrow thickened her friend’s voice. “His pain is over. All the arrangements have been made. I’m going home now. I just need to…think. Be alone.”

  “I’ll come over right now.” Lydia was gone, Max was working on the plan and Denise needed her.

  “No. It’s okay. Really.”

  “I’ll be there soon.”

  She hung up and felt Max watching her. “You take care of getting on the news. I’m going to be with Denise for a few hours.”

  “You can’t be alone, Erica.”

  She sighed and closed her eyes. “Brandon and Jordan are at Bea’s house.”

  “I’ll take you to Denise’s. I can make these calls while I wait on you.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Erica wanted to weep. They’d missed Lydia by a few minutes. She couldn’t believe it. Hopelessness tore at her, but she refused to give in to the feeling. They had a plan, a plan that might actually work.

  God, I don’t know why this is happening, but I sure wish You’d at least let me talk to the girl.

  She rode in silence as she pondered what Max should say on his plea on the news, but her frustration was making it hard to think clearly. Visiting with Denise would be good for her—she would focus her energy on her heartbroken friend, instead of constantly thinking about herself and her situation. She prayed she could offer Denise some real comfort.

  Max pulled up to the house. She started to get out and he placed a hand on her arm. “Hold on a second.”

  “What is it?”

  “I just want to watch and listen for a few minutes.”

  Puzzled, she stared at him as she settled back into the seat. “Okay.”

  For the next five minutes, he kept the window down and watched the street. Finally, he said, “All right. You can go. I don’t see anything that rings my alarm.”

  Of course. He was worried they’d been followed. “I won’t stay too long. She said she wanted to be alone, but—” she shrugged “—I want to check on her.”

  “It’s fine.” He held up his phone. “I have plenty to keep me occupied. And I’ll be watching the house.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Max.”

  He leaned over and planted a quick kiss on her lips. She felt a real, genuine smile on her face and realized it had been a while since she’d actually grinned. “What was that for?”

  “You’re growing on me.”

  She reached up and touched his face. “The feeling’s mutual.”

  “Good, because I learned something today.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ve been petty and judgmental since Tracy’s death.” He swallowed hard. “Being at that homeless shelter was very hard at first…then as I began talking to people, I started to see them as individuals, not as a group.” He sighed. “They’re not all bad people.”

  “No. They’re not.” She paused. “Some fit into that ‘bad’ category, but the majority a
re there through no fault of their own. Most of them just want a bed to sleep in, food to eat and the opportunity to make their lives better.”

  He nodded. “I saw a little bit of that yesterday. And even more today.” He reached up and put his hand on hers. “You made me see that. And I’ve been praying for God to change my heart.” He smiled. “I think He’s answering that prayer.”

  “I’m glad, Max. I’m so sorry about Tracy. It was a horrible experience, I’m sure. But don’t let it keep you from giving people a chance.”

  “Yeah.” He nodded toward the porch where Denise stood. She must have just noticed them and stepped outside. “She’s waiting on you.”

  Erica turned to see Denise, hands on her hips, shoulders stooped with weariness. She asked Max, “Are you coming in?”

  “Maybe in a little bit. I’m going to make those calls and check in with Brandon and Jordan. Go be with your friend.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  She got out of the car and walked toward Denise.

  “You didn’t have to come, Erica.” Tear tracks stained Denise’s cheeks, and her mascara had smudged under her eyes.

  Erica wrapped her arms around Denise’s stiff form. “Of course I did.” Why was Denise so resistant to her?

  Denise finally offered her a pat on the back and said, “I’m cleaning out Dad’s house. You sure you want to tackle that?”

  “If you’re feeling up to it and ready for the bombardment of memories, I’ll be glad to help.”

  “I’m not ready, but I have to get it done and get home.”

  “Then let me help you.”

  Denise dropped her arms, seeming to lose the will to fight Erica’s insistence. “Okay, I appreciate it.”

  Erica followed Denise into the house and noted the boxes everywhere. “You don’t want to move back here, Denise?”

  “No. Never. I’m quite happy where I am. As soon as Dad’s buried, I’m going home.”

  Erica didn’t realize until that moment that she deeply missed her friend and had been hoping she’d return, but she supposed she understood. Denise had made a life for herself in a new place with a great job—and probably good friends. She wouldn’t be selfish and wish otherwise. “Where do you want me to start?”

  A sigh slipped from Denise’s lips. “I don’t care. Everything has to go. The house goes on the market next week.”

  Erica blinked. “My. You’ve been busy.”

  Denise shrugged. “I didn’t have anything else to do while I was sitting in the hospital waiting for him to take his last breath. I figured it was better to be productive rather than to be in denial.”

  Erica was a little taken aback, but that was Denise. Blunt and to the point. “All right, why don’t I tackle the kitchen?”

  Denise stared at her a moment, then her face crumpled. “I already miss him,” she gasped. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

  Erica moved to take her friend in her arms. “I know,” she whispered against her hair. “It’ll be all right.”

  “No, it won’t. It really won’t.” She blinked and reached up, grasping her hair with her hands in despair. “I killed him.”

  Erica was stunned. “Of course you didn’t kill him. Why would you say that?”

  Denise let out a harsh sound that was half chuckle, half sob. “I’m sorry. I’m not making any sense.”

  “What do you mean you killed him?”

  Denise pulled away and swiped her eyes. “He’s never forgiven me for leaving. My choice to leave was something he couldn’t get over, and now he’s gone.”

  “But you always talked about how you enjoyed his visits. He flew out there a couple of times a year to see you. If he hadn’t forgiven you, he wouldn’t have bothered.” She rubbed her friend’s arm.

  Denise shook her head. “Never mind. I’m just…”

  “Grieving,” Erica finished for her. “Come on, let’s get busy. Maybe some physical activity will help.”

  Denise’s grief-stricken face returned to normal. “Yes, of course, you’re right. I was working in his bedroom. I figure if I can get through that, I can make it through the rest of the house.”

  “Do you want me to do that for you?”

  “No. I need to. You finish the kitchen. It’s almost done anyway.”

  Erica picked up one of the boxes leaning against the wall and a roll of packing tape. “All right, the kitchen it is.”

  “The bubble wrap is on the table.”

  “Got it.”

  Erica moved into the kitchen and taped the box together. Several boxes already sat stacked next to the back door. It wouldn’t take much to finish. Just the pantry and the few dishes stacked on the counter.

  For the next thirty minutes, Erica worked quietly, thinking. As she packed, she realized a startling fact.

  No one was here for Denise. Her father had just died and no one had come by. She couldn’t remember if the man had been a member of a church or not. She thought so, but maybe not.

  Erica frowned as she pulled the tape across the top of the last box. Where were Denise’s other friends and family? She tried to think of other family in the area.

  An uncle. A cousin or two she remembered from childhood but hadn’t kept up with so had no idea if they still lived in town or not. “Strange,” she muttered. Then shrugged. She was glad she’d come to support her friend. Perhaps Denise hadn’t kept in touch with anyone when she’d left. But that didn’t explain why no one else was mourning her father.

  Finished with the kitchen, Erica walked to the window and looked out.

  Max still sat in his truck, the phone pressed to his ear. A lump rose in her throat. “Please, Lord,” she whispered. “Let us find Lydia and Molly. Show us where to look next. And keep them both safe.”

  The prayer echoed in her mind, filling her heart. But she just couldn’t quell the uneasy feeling that time was running out.

  For everyone.

  SIXTEEN

  The more Max thought about it, the more he felt they were missing something. Something that was as plain as the nose on his face, only he couldn’t see it. Mentally, he ran down a list of everyone in Erica’s life that he could think of. Unfortunately, he didn’t know whom he might be missing. But those he did know…

  Who would know she was allergic to bees?

  And who would even have access to the venom? Anyone doing an online search, probably.

  Peter was the obvious suspect. But Max didn’t like the obvious. Everything that had happened with Peter could have been set up. From stealing his car to luring him to the mall.

  And then there was Rachel. She had some jealousy over Erica and Denise’s friendship, but was it a motive to kidnap her own niece? And if so, where had she kept the child all this time? Assuming Molly was still alive. If Rachel was the kidnapper, the cold knot in his belly told him Molly was dead.

  Please let her be alive, God.

  He pulled the file on Molly from under his seat and opened it. One thing kept nagging at him. One of the witnesses said she saw a woman that looked like she could be with the group but wasn’t. He read the witness’s statement. “I only noticed her because she seemed so alone. Lonely. I felt sorry for her. The next time I turned around, she was gone and I really didn’t think anything more about her until Molly disappeared and you started asking me questions.”

  Katie had questioned the woman further, but had gotten only a brief description. Curly red hair pulled up in a ponytail, large sunglasses, thin, kept her hands in her coat pocket. The police had written her off as a visitor because no one reported seeing Molly leave with her.

  The more Max thought about it, the more he was convinced the woman had something to do with the kidnapping.

  He pulled out the sketch the artist had created based on the witness’s description. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a very good one.

  “Curly red hair,” he muttered. Rachel? An idea hit him. He grabbed his phone and called Brandon.

  “Any luck with Lydia?” he asked wh
en Brandon answered.

  “No. Just sitting here watching the house, drinking coffee and trying to figure out who could be after Erica.”

  “I have an idea and I need your help.”

  “What do you need?”

  He glanced at the window he’d seen Erica looking out of a few minutes ago. “I need you to get me into Erica’s house.”

  “Why don’t you just ask Erica?” Max was glad Brandon seemed curious, rather than suspicious. Maybe the man trusted him.

  “Denise’s father died.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Erica’s over here at Denise’s father’s house. She’s helping her pack it up. I don’t want to bother her until I figure out if I’m right or not.”

  “Right about what?”

  “I’ll explain when I see you. I’m going to call Chris and see if he can take over for me.”

  “This can’t wait?”

  “No.”

  Chris arrived within fifteen minutes, pulling up behind Max’s truck in his squad car. Max got out and shook hands with the man. “Nothing’s going to happen to Erica while I’m watching out for her.”

  “If she sees you out here and asks what’s going on, just tell her I’m following up on a lead and I’ll be back soon, all right?”

  “Of course.”

  Max climbed back in his truck and took off for Erica’s house. Within minutes, Max was in her drive. Brandon pulled up behind him. “What’s this bright idea?”

  “I need pictures of everyone in Erica’s life at the time of the kidnapping.”

  Brandon blinked. “That’s a lot of people.”

  “Okay, not everyone, but anyone who was especially close to her.”

  “She’s got an album inside that has tons of pictures from the time Molly was born to the time she disappeared. Erica never looks at it anymore, but I know where it is. Come on.”

  Brandon turned the alarm off and led the way inside. Max waited for the man to get the album. Brandon handed it to him. “What are you going to do with it?”

  “Show it to someone. Come on.”

  *

  Erica was halfway through the china cabinet in the dining room when Denise walked in. “You’re making good progress.” Surprise tinted her voice.

  “Well, it’s a no-brainer kind of job.” Denise had pulled her dark hair into a ponytail. The dark circles under her eyes tugged at Erica’s heartstrings. “I’m sorry you’re going through all of this.”