Page 102 of Engulfing Emma

“There is a possibility we may not find him. None of the leads Ethan gave me could be him.”

“We know.”

He taps on his phone. “He’s narrowed it down to four men, all similar in age and who have grown up in or around Munich. He said if he’d had more time, he could have gotten pictures and more detailed information.”

“That’s fine. Four men shouldn’t be too hard to track down.”

He looks at Evelyn, making sure she’s not listening. “Emma, one of the four died five years ago in an industrial accident.”

Would her father being dead be easier than him being alive and rejecting her? Then again maybe I’ve been wrong all along. Maybe after all this time, he’ll be mature enough to want a relationship with his daughter.

“We should go to that one first,” I say. “To rule him out. Was he married? Does he have relatives?”

He scrolls through the email. “Not married, but it lists his next of kin as a sister. I have an address. It shouldn’t be too hard to find her. Some of the profiles have phone numbers, if you wanted to try and call.”

“I don’t want to call. I think it’s best to confront him in person.”

Brett brushes a stray hair out of my eyes.

“What?” I ask.

“I’m glad I’m here. I hate to think of you and Evie going to the houses of strange men without protection.”

I glance at Evelyn. “We’re glad you’re here, too.”

“We?”he asks, rubbing his thumb across the back my hand. “You need me, Emma. You need me for more than just getting you back into school, going up in elevators, and riding on planes. When are you going to admit it?”

I pull my hand away. “We should get some sleep. I have a feeling we’re going to have a long day tomorrow.”

Chapter Twenty-nine

Brett

Evie gets in the backseat of the rental car. She leans over the headrest. “Isn’t the steering wheel supposed to be on the right?”

“That’s in Britain, sweetie,” Emma says.

I pull out onto the street and head towards the hotel.

“Aren’t you driving on the wrong side of the road?” Evie asks.

“That’s in Britain, too,” I say. “Driving here is like driving back home.”

She pouts and leans back in her seat. “What’s the fun in that?”

“You want fun?” I ask. “Wait until we get on the autobahn. There’s no speed limit on parts of it.”

Emma hits me on the arm. “I didn’t come all the way here to get in a car accident.”

“Well, from what I’ve read, you’re more likely to get in an accident if you drive too slowly.”

“From what you’ve read?”

“I may have done some research.”

“What kind of research?” Emma asks.

I shrug. “I thought if we had time, we might check out some sights.”

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