“With your company. You told me all about everyone who works there. What about you?”
Erica sorted through what to tell him, then decided to just lay it out there. “After Molly disappeared, I spent all my money trying to find her. At least all the money I could get my hands on. My husband...” She gave a heavy sigh. “My marriage fell apart. We tried counseling, but by that time...” She waved a hand. “Anyway, I just couldn’t give up on finding Molly. I had to be doing something, not just waiting for the phone to ring. So I picked the career that would allow me to do that. I became a skip tracer and I specialize in finding missing children.”
“While you keep searching for Molly.”
“Yes.” She pointed. “Turn here.”
Max turned into Peter’s subdivision and followed her directions until she motioned to the one-story house on the corner. “It’s nice.”
Her lips quirked into a wry smile at his surprise. Junkies didn’t usually have nice places to sleep. “I pay for someone to do the yard each week. I don’t want the neighbors complaining.” She frowned. “I don’t recognize the car at the curb.”
Max had noticed the black Mustang, too.
“He may have company.” She hesitated. “Inside is pretty bad most of the time. Every once in a while I’ll come over to check on him and clean up some. It’s been a week since I’ve been here so no guarantees about what it looks like in there.”
He nodded. “I’ve seen worse, I’m sure.”
She knocked on the door and waited. Then knocked again.
* * *
Max was ready to concede Peter wasn’t home when the lock clicked. The door swung open and Peter stood there blinking in the sunlight, unshaven and offensive to Max’s nose.
Erica acted as though she didn’t notice. “May we come in?”
“Why?”
Impatience tightened her features. “Because we need to talk to you before the cops get here.”
That seemed to wake him up a bit. “Cops? Why’d you call them? I thought all that was straightened out last night. I just needed some cash.”
“For a hit.” Erica glared at him. “Looks like you found some.”
Pain flashed in his eyes for a brief moment then a silly smile crossed his dry, cracked lips. “Yeah. I did. Polo hooked me up. He’s got this friend named Sandy—”
Erica pushed her way inside. Peter stopped his explanation and didn’t protest, so Max kept his mouth shut and followed.
And wished he’d volunteered to wait outside.
Body odor and spoiled food assaulted his nose. Erica gagged and walked into the kitchen to the right. She shook her head and came back into the tiny foyer. “I’m not going to lecture.”
“Good. ’Cuz I’m not going to listen.”
Polo stumbled from the rear of the house. “Who is it?”
Peter sighed and rubbed his bleary eyes. “My sister and her friend. Let me take care of this.”
Polo eyed Erica. Then his gaze slid to Max. “She belong to you?”
“Yeah,” Max said before Erica could answer. He stared Polo down until the man gave a short nod.
“Bummer.” He looked at Peter. “Get ’em outta here. We got business.”
“Cops are on the way. You better vanish. Business can wait.”
With a glare at Erica and Max, Polo slipped out of the house. Within seconds, they heard the roar of the motor and the squeal of tires as he pulled away from the curb. Erica looked at Peter. “Were you at the corner of Henry and East Main earlier today? Like about an hour and a half ago?”
Peter squinted. “No, man. I was asleep. I haven’t left the house since I got home from Sandy’s.”
Knowing junkies sometimes got their facts skewed, Max asked, “What time was that?”
A shrug. “I don’t remember. Probably around eight o’clock this morning.”
“And you didn’t leave again?”
“I said no.”
“When did your friend show up?”
“About ten minutes before you did. He woke me up.”
“Where’s your car?”
He gave her a puzzled look. “In the garage where I always keep it when I’m not using it. What’s with the third degree?”
Max said, “Your car sideswiped us this morning.”
“What?” He laughed. “Not possible.” Peter shook his head and walked through the kitchen. He opened a door that probably led to the garage.
And gaped.
He spun. “It’s not there.” He paced to the sink and back to the door again. “Where’s my car?”
“That’s what we want to know,” said Max’s cop buddy from the front door where he stood next to his partner. “Peter Hayes?”
Peter held his hands up. “I wasn’t driving. I swear.”
“Can anyone give you an alibi?”
He swallowed hard. “I was asleep. I didn’t even know my car was missing.”
Chris and Steve exchanged a glance, then looked at Max. “What are you doing here?”
“The same thing you are.”
“We got the hit-and-run you called in.”
Max gestured to Erica. “She recognized the car.”
“But he wasn’t driving it?”
Erica shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“I wasn’t!” Peter said. “I want to report a stolen car.” He ran a hand through his greasy hair. “I can’t believe someone stole my car.”
Max snorted as Peter muttered a few more dire threats on the head of the person responsible for the missing vehicle. He looked at Chris. “This the first time this has happened?”
“Yeah. I checked to see if he was a repeat, but he’s not.” Max was surprised. A missing car was a common call from drug addicts. They often loaned their vehicle to their addict friends and when the friend didn’t bring it back, they filed a stolen vehicle report.
Erica managed to calm her brother down enough to sit on the sagging couch.
Chris pulled out his notebook and said, “Tell me, in detail, where you were this morning and who would have taken your car?”
“I don’t know! That’s why you’re here, right? To find out?”
The man truly looked distressed. Max began to wonder if he wasn’t telling the truth.
Chris continued. “Who has the keys?”
“The keys were probably in it,” Peter mumbled.
“Uh-huh. And what crackhead did you loan it to?”
“I didn’t loan it to anyone.” Peter sighed and ran a dirty hand through his greasy hair. Max saw Erica wince and turn her face from the man’s odor.
“All right, give me the description of the vehicle, the tag number, make and model, color and all that.”
As Peter provided the information, Erica massaged her sore shoulder, and Max said, “Come on. We can’t do anything else here. Let’s get you some