unless cold feet could be considered an injury.
Bree knocked one more time. “I don’t think she would normally leave her door unlocked at night. I’m going in.” She pushed her way inside.
It was a tiny apartment—just a combined living/dining room and a galley kitchen separated by a half wall. A single door probably led to the bedroom.
“This looks a lot like the place I lived in college,” Eric said. “With two other guys.”
Bree wasn’t up for chitchat. “I know I heard someone in here.” She crossed the living room toward the kitchen and peeked behind the half wall. Eric was right behind her, gripping MacKenzie’s hand. He suddenly had a bad feeling they shouldn’t be here. Just because the door was unlocked didn’t mean they had the right to barge in.
“We should leave,” he said just as someone burst out of the bedroom and streaked past them, straight out the front door.
“Hey!” Eric yelled, a purely reflexive outburst. The last thing he really wanted was for the guy to stop, not when Eric had his six-year-old daughter with him.
MacKenzie squeaked in surprise and Bree whirled around. “Who was that? Was it Philomene?”
“Definitely not, unless Philomene resembles a large male wearing overalls.”
Bree shook her head and walked to the door to look out. The guy’s footsteps had long since faded; he’d beat it out of there pretty damn fast.
“Does Philomene have a roommate or boyfriend?” Eric asked.
“No roommate. I don’t know about boyfriends. But whoever that guy was, he wouldn’t have run like that if he was supposed to be here.”
Bree walked over to the bedroom door and stuck her head in, then checked the bathroom. “She’s not here. Eric, did you get a good look at the intruder?”
“No. Just his general size and coloring, but he rushed past so fast. Look, Bree, I must have been insane to come here with my little girl. We have to go—now.”
“But Philomene might be in trouble.”
“That sounds like a matter for the police.” Eric was already heading for the door. He needed to get MacKenzie home, tucked in safe and far, far away from anything that smacked of “trouble.”
“The police. That’s a joke,” Bree muttered as she followed Eric out. “Tuckerville doesn’t even have its own police force. We rely on the Becker County Sheriff’s Department. They wouldn’t stir themselves to look for a missing woman.”
“Most law enforcement won’t search for a missing adult unless there’s clear evidence of foul play. Because ninety-nine percent of missing adults are missing because they want to be.”
“What about that one percent?”
“I’m sure she’ll turn up.” Was he? They’d interrupted a possible crime, and Eric’s bad feeling hadn’t gone away. But his job wasn’t to investigate missing persons.
They rode in silence back to the café’s parking lot. Finally, when Eric stopped to let Bree out, she spoke. “I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing.”
“Not nothing. That was awfully good meat loaf.”
“I don’t suppose you’d come back if I set up another meeting.... No, I can see it in your eyes. You’ve already been more than reasonable, and... Never mind. It’s not your problem. Have a safe drive home. MacKenzie?” Bree’s demeanor changed dramatically when she addressed his daughter. “I enjoyed meeting you.”
MacKenzie actually smiled. Then she said in a tiny voice, “I hope you find your friend.”
“Me, too, kiddo.”
Eric was touched. He’d thought MacKenzie would tune them out the way kids did when they weren’t interested in adult conversation, which they usually weren’t. But apparently she’d been paying attention, and she’d overcome her initial shyness to express compassion for someone else. She was an amazing kid.
With more empathy than her father, apparently. He felt guilty for not showing more concern for Philomene. He felt a sudden urge to reverse himself and tell Bree he would do whatever it took to locate Philomene and make sure she was safe, that he would listen, that he would look into Kelly Ralston’s case and see that justice was being served.
But Bree was already gone.
CHAPTER FOUR
BREE HAD NEVER thought of herself as a stalker. But she’d tried calling Eric Riggs three times and hadn’t been able to get through. She was not going to give up easily, however. Not when a woman’s life was at stake. So here she was, lurking outside the Project Justice offices, waiting for someone to exit.
She had known better than to actually go inside and face the Dragon Lady, Celeste. Celeste was the one who had repeatedly foiled Bree’s efforts to speak with Eric.
When someone finally did exit the building, it was the young blonde woman she’d seen on her first visit, the one who had interrupted what she must have thought was some kind of romantic tryst.
“Excuse me, Jillian?”
The woman whirled around. “Yes?” Then she smiled with recognition. “Oh, you’re Eric’s girlfriend.”
Bree let Jillian believe what she wanted. “I’ve been trying to reach him. But there seems to be some trouble with the phone, and he’s not answering his cell.”
“He’s probably in the courtroom,” Jillian said. “You get in big trouble with the judge if your cell phone goes off during some proceeding.” Jillian looked slightly guilty, as if she might know this from experience. “He was supposed to appear this morning for some reason or other. You can probably still catch him down there if you hurry. You know where it is?”
“Oh, sure,” Bree said breezily. “Thanks.”
“No problem. I’m just glad to see Eric has someone in his life. I don’t know him very well, but he seems like a really nice guy, and he deserves someone nice.”
As she hurried back to her car, Bree felt slightly guilty for having perpetrated the white lie on unsuspecting Jillian. But extreme circumstances called for extreme measures.
Ten minutes later she was lurking on the courthouse steps like a lovesick teenager or an ambitious paparazzo, ready to pounce if she saw any sign of her target. It wasn’t as if he would be hard to spot, with those wide shoulders and the glint of gold in his hair. Although he’d cut it ruthlessly short, she bet it would turn beach-boy blond if he let it grow and spent a little time in the sun. Might get rid of that prison pallor, too.
Yeah, she’d done some research on him. It wasn’t hard—he’d been convicted of stabbing his pretty socialite wife to death, and his trial had been reported and analyzed ad nauseam in dozens of newspapers across the state. It had even been on TruTV. He had indeed been pardoned and then his conviction overturned when the real killer had tried to kidnap Eric’s future sister-in-law.
Bree hadn’t known anything about the original crime, because she’d been in her medical residency then, oblivious to anything but her patients and the few hours of sleep she could grab. Plus, crime news had never been something that interested her. She’d had her fill of it during Kelly’s arrest and trial.
It was a wonder she’d survived that period of her life, fighting for Kelly’s freedom and getting through med school.
“Bree?”
She whirled around, nearly tripping and falling down the stairs. Eric grabbed her elbow to steady her, then quickly released it, as if touching her had burned him.
“How did you get past me?” She tamped down the ridiculous pleasure she felt at seeing him again. Something about him was so reassuring. Maybe that was a glamour