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made Max want to offer his protection. Right after he questioned her and found out everything she might know about what just went down.

      Chris ordered, “Let me see the permit.”

      “It’s in my purse.” She frowned. “Which is still in my car. Hopefully.”

      Chris looked at Max. “What are you doing here?”

      “You have to ask?”

      Chris scowled. “Right.” Then he motioned for the woman to walk. Max followed them down the hall and out the front door. As they exited, Max heard, “Erica!”

      Erica stopped and waved at the man, who looked like he was ready to start pounding the officers holding him back. “I’m all right, Brandon.” Brandon gave her a fierce frown as she said, “Thanks for being willing to come to my rescue, but I didn’t need you, after all.”

      His brows shot north. “What did you stumble into now?”

      While she retrieved her license and showed it to Chris, she gave the man she’d called Brandon an abridged version of the events, which Max thought was still too long. She must have sensed his impatience because she finally said, “Go on back home, Brandon, I’ll be all right now.”

      “I’m not leaving until I know you’re home safe.”

      Max said, “I’ll see to it she gets there.”

      Brandon rubbed his nose. “And you are?”

      Max held out a hand. “I’m Max Powell. Former cop. Currently a private investigator.”

      Brandon shook Max’s hand with a glare at Erica. “I’m Brandon Hayes, Erica’s long-suffering older brother.”

      A sigh escaped her, and Max felt protective instincts surge to the surface once again. He couldn’t help but wonder at his strange reactions to this woman. Maybe he was just stressed out and overly tired.

      Erica stiffened, and Max saw her start to say something then stop. Finally she seemed to decide on her words. “Brandon, I’m fine. Go home. I’m sorry I called you out here on a false alarm.”

      The man wilted. “Aw, Erica...” He leaned over to give her a hug then shot a look at Max. “You’re sure?” Max nodded.

      “Go, Brandon. Jordan’s probably wondering where you are,” Erica said.

      “Your boyfriend will be fine without me,” Brandon said, giving Max a pointed look. The disappointment that shot through Max at the mention of Erica’s boyfriend was just one more emotional surprise today.

      “Knock it off, Bran. Just because you want him to be my boyfriend doesn’t make it so. Now go home. I’ll text you when I’m behind locked doors.” She shot a look at Chris, who still held her license. “Hopefully they won’t have bars on them.”

      Chris handed her wallet back to her. She spun away to stuff it into her purse as her brother got in his car.

      He said, “I’ll be checking on you.”

      “I’m sure you will.”

      Brandon pulled away just as the officers who had gone after Lydia returned—empty-handed. Anxiety twisted inside Max. Would he never be at the right place at the right time?

      “Do you know the girl?” Erica asked.

      He hedged. “Do you?”

      “No.”

      Max watched as Steve led Lydia’s attacker to the nearest cruiser and stuffed him in the back.

      He felt her eyes on him. “But you do,” she said.

      “Why do you say that?”

      She shot him a look full of exasperation. “Because you called her Lydia.”

      He nodded. “Yeah, I know her.”

      “I’m looking for a girl named Lydia, too.”

      Max stilled, tense. “Why’s that?”

      “Because she’s a suspect in the kidnapping of my daughter three years ago.”

      The breath left his lungs. “You’re Molly’s mother?”

      She paled. “You know who Molly is?”

      “Of course I do. I’ve been following the story since I saw Lydia’s face on the news.”

      “So who is she to you?”

      Max blew out a deep breath and rubbed a hand over his head. “My sister.”

      * * *

      Erica rolled with the shock wave. Of course. Lydia Powell, Max Powell. “Your sister?” she said. Anger swelled inside her. “Your sister had something to do with my daughter’s kidnapping.”

      His eyes flashed. “She wasn’t involved. She wouldn’t do something like that. When I saw her face on the news, it floored me. To hear that she was wanted for questioning about kidnapping a three-year-old?” He shook his head. “She wouldn’t. There’s got to be some explanation.”

      Erica tucked her purse back behind her seat, thankful the car was exactly as she’d left it. She supposed having several police vehicles next to it had helped. “Well, I’d sure like to hear that explanation. And so would the cops.”

      His lips tightened and he narrowed his eyes. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

      Erica lifted her chin, struggling a little to keep it together. “This is the house where my daughter was kept right after she was taken. When they did the raid last week, they found the clothes she was wearing when she disappeared. Along with the hair clip that had your sister’s fingerprint on it. I couldn’t believe that stuff was still here after three years. So I came to see... I hoped...” Tears clogged her throat as her failure hit home.

      Max swiped a hand across his eyes but not before she saw the brief flash of sorrow in them. He sighed. “Let’s get this wrapped up here, and we’ll talk. I want to know what you know about Lydia.”

      “And I want to know what you know.” She slid into the driver’s seat.

      He spoke to the officers, and she focused on slowing her rapidly beating heart. Her emotions were on overload. She had accomplished nothing with her impulsive trip to the crack house.

      No, that wasn’t completely true. She’d found Lydia’s brother. Maybe that was the first step in finding Lydia. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the headrest. Oh, baby girl, where are you? Please Lord, help me find her.

      Sobs threatened once again as the helplessness overwhelmed her. With an effort, she focused on what she had to do next. The next step in the plan.

      “I’ll follow you home.” She recognized Max’s voice and opened her eyes.

      She sighed. “It’s all right. I can manage.”

      His jaw firmed. “It’s late and you’re in the toughest neighborhood in Spartanburg. Plus, I promised your brother I’d make sure you got home safe.”

      “I thought we were going to talk.”

      “We are.” He tapped the hood of her car. “But you need some rest and I’m not through with my search for Lydia tonight.” He paused and glanced at his watch. “Would you be able to meet for breakfast?”

      Erica mentally went through her calendar. She had two appointments she could delegate. “What time?”

      “Eight thirty?”

      “Sure.” She cranked her car.

      Max pointed to the weapon that had been returned to her. “What made you feel the need to carry that?”

      Erica felt a wry smile cross her lips. “A job that brings me into neighborhoods like this.”

      Curiosity

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