when she pulled into the drive.
“So go.”
“Right. I’ll just be going.”
Erica frowned. He sounded weird. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing. Nothing. I was just—”
“Just what?”
“Nothing. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Erica hung up and glanced in the rearview mirror. Seeing Max following behind her was comforting in an odd sort of way, even though she knew he had questions for her. That was fine—she had questions for him. And she would not notice his blue eyes again. Even though she had a feeling she could get lost in them, wondering what was going on behind them. Wondering what it would feel like to see them soften and sparkle for her. But she wouldn’t do that. She couldn’t. She wasn’t interested in getting to know the brother of the girl who’d helped kidnap Molly. And she’d keep telling herself that as long as she had to in order to make herself believe it.
A few minutes later, she turned into her drive.
Jordan was gone and she breathed a sigh of relief. He’d been hovering like a mother hen lately—she couldn’t figure out what was going on with him. And Brandon calling him her boyfriend just added to the confusion. Why would he say that? Jordan was a nice guy, but he was like a brother to her, and Brandon knew that.
Max pulled up against the curb and rolled the window down. Erica got out of her car and walked up to him. “Thanks for the escort.”
“You want me to check out your house?”
“No thanks. No need.”
“So. Tomorrow morning?”
“Yes.” Her heart did a funny pitter-patter thing as his lips curved in a gentle smile. Shocked, she swallowed hard. She hadn’t felt an attraction for a man in such a long time, she almost didn’t realize what it was when it hit her. Ever since her husband had left her, she’d gone out of her way to avoid men. And now, in this crazy situation, she was finding herself attracted to a man she just met?
She shook it off and said, “We never picked a place.”
“Where’s your office?”
“On East Main Street in the same complex as the post office.”
“How about the café?”
“I’ll be there.”
“You have your phone?”
Erica lifted a brow and pulled it out.
He gave her his number. “Call me if you need anything, or if something changes and you can’t make it.” She punched in the number and heard his phone ring. When she hung up, he nodded toward her house. “Now go inside while I’m watching. And lock the door.”
“I always do.” Irritated by his bossy manner, Erica turned and made her way into the house, twisting the dead bolt after shutting the door. The lamp on the end table next to her sofa gave off a soft light that reached into the foyer, casting friendly shadows on the wall beside her.
Much friendlier than the ones in the crack house.
Erica glanced out the window and watched Max drive away. Without his distracting presence, images from the night bombarded her and she shivered. “So close,” she whispered to the empty room. So close to some answers, and once again they’d slipped away from her grasp.
Erica crossed to the mantel and picked up her favorite picture of Molly, the one taken the day before she disappeared. As always, the tears threatened, but she couldn’t look away from Molly’s bright smile, her unruly red hair pulled up into a ponytail and her green eyes glinting with good-humored mischief.
Well, the answers may have slipped away tonight, but at least she had a name to follow up on, thanks to Katie, and now she’d seen Lydia’s face up close and personal. She would recognize her again when she saw her, even if she was still trying to hide beneath that hoodie.
Erica set Molly’s sweet picture back on the mantel and turned to flip the lamp off.
Darkness covered her and for a moment she just stood there, nearly drowning in her grief. It had been three years and still sometimes the pain of missing her child made her go weak.
Erica forced herself to head for her bedroom. She needed her rest. She would be no good for anyone if she let herself get to the point where she couldn’t sleep again. Thankfully, she no longer needed medication most nights.
Tonight might not be one of those nights.
In her bedroom, she flipped on the closet light and let the warm light filter into the room. She wasn’t in the mood for the strong overhead light tonight.
Just as she started for the bathroom to get ready for bed, she heard the distinctive click of the front door closing.
THREE
Max sat in his den staring at the file in front of him, wondering why he couldn’t get Erica James off his mind. Her story touched him. Her fragile beauty drew him to her. But her accusations made him angry. The fact that she thought Lydia was involved with Molly’s kidnapping made him more determined than ever to find his little sister and prove her innocent.
He ignored the little niggling of concern at the back of his mind that Erica might have a reason to be throwing her accusations out there.
Which was why he’d made a point of doing his homework on her.
Erica was twenty-eight years old, and had, by all appearances, been happily married until her daughter’s kidnapping three years ago. Her husband had left and moved overseas about a year later.
Erica had pulled herself together and started her own business working as a skip tracer, learning how to use specialized equipment and unique skills to locate missing people—or in Erica’s case, missing children. He remembered the sadness in her eyes, and what she’d said about being able to find other people’s children and yet not Molly.
Thanks to his contacts at the police station, acquiring Molly’s case notes hadn’t been a problem. He flipped to the evidence section.
A witness had reported seeing a woman with red curly hair, large sunglasses and a long coat at the zoo that day. Another witness claims he saw a man following the preschool group. Too many reported seeing nothing unusual.
Curly red hair. Erica had curly red hair. But she had an airtight alibi. She’d been working another missing persons case and had even had a police officer with her.
And then there was the matter of that pain in her eyes. No, she hadn’t had anything to do with her daughter’s disappearance.
It had been a chilly day in November when Molly had gone missing. This month would be a tough one for Erica.
And now she was looking for Lydia. Max felt anger surface again. Twenty-one years old, his sister could pass for thirteen or thirty, depending on how close one looked. He supposed the drugs and sporadic eating could do that
