Читать книгу Plain Sanctuary - Alison Stone - Страница 13

FOUR

Zachary paced the small space between the rocking chairs and the wood-burning stove. “We can take extra precautions to make sure Fox doesn’t follow us back to Ruthie’s home.”

Heather stared up at him, worry lining her pretty eyes. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“I’m not letting you stay here.” Zach winced at the way he’d framed the words. He suspected Heather wouldn’t take kindly to being forced to do anything. He stopped pacing and sat down on the rocker across from hers. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not going to force you into anything. However, it’s against my better judgment and all my training to leave you here. Fox has been here.” He pointed in the general direction of the graffiti on the wall. “Please let me—” he looked at Ruthie “—let us help you.”

He shifted to catch Ruthie’s attention. “Do you know the workmen here?”

“Yah, Sloppy Sam is a gut friend.”

“Sloppy Sam?” Zachary couldn’t help but smile. Then he turned to Heather. “You hired someone named Sloppy Sam to do home renovations? Seems like a risky move.”

Shrugging, Heather mirrored his smile and flicked a quick glance at Ruthie. “Sloppy Sam came highly recommended.”

“A lot of Amish have nicknames because so many people have the same name. I know—” Ruthie lifted her hands and held up her fingers. “I know at least seven Samuels. And trust me, Sloppy Sam is a very fine craftsman. He got his nickname when he was a little boy. He tended to enjoy his meals so much that his father kept calling him sloppy. It stuck.”

“Well, maybe Sloppy Sam can give you a ride home in his wagon. You can talk to your mother, run the plan by her, then I’ll see to it that Heather makes it there, albeit in a circuitous route. Sound like a plan?”

“Yah.”

“Please don’t tell Sloppy Sam or any of the other Sams you know. The fewer people who know where Heather is, the better.”

“I understand.” Ruthie pointed toward the back window. “I’ll see that the workmen install the window before I leave. Make sure no one else can get in.”

Zach met Heather’s gaze. She knew as well as he did that no one could stop a determined Fox from getting in.

“Thank you,” Heather said. “You’ve been a good friend. But please, if I arrive and your mother doesn’t want me in her home, please tell me. I don’t want to put your family out.”

“It’ll be fine. You’ll see.” Ruthie smiled and went outside to talk to the workmen.

“Why don’t you grab a few things? I’ll drive you to the sheriff’s department, and then we’ll make alternate plans to get you to Ruthie’s house. I don’t want Fox to follow us from here.”

Heather dragged the charm back and forth across the gold chain on her necklace. “How long do you think it will take before they capture Brian?”

Zach rubbed the back of his neck. “I understand Fox has a lot of experience surviving in the woods. He was big into camping, right?”

Heather nodded. An expression suggesting she was remembering an unhappy camping trip flitted across her features.

“He’s more equipped than most to make a go of it out in the woods.”

Heather’s shoulders sagged, as if she had lost some of her initial bravado. “Do you think I’m foolish to stay in Quail Hollow? Maybe I should put more distance between us.”

Zachary leaned forward and reached out to take her hand, but stopped short of touching her. “You can go round and round with this. I think our initial plan is a good one. We can reevaluate if either I or the sheriff’s department feels your safety is compromised.”

Heather raised her eyebrows. “You’re not leaving Quail Hollow? I thought your job was to make sure I’m secure.”

“It is. And the only way you’ll be one hundred percent secure is if Fox is back in custody. Until then, I’m sticking close by.”

Heather closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’ll grab a bag. It won’t take me long. I haven’t even had a chance to unpack since moving in here.”

* * *

The hammering of the workmen clashed with the pounding in Heather’s head as she jogged up the stairs to grab a few things. Between the lack of sleep and her plans for the future crashing down around her, she wondered why she had ever allowed herself to dream. To hope for the future.

Tragedy followed her as if she had a flashing neon arrow over her head.

Rely on your faith. Her father’s words drifted through her mind. Despite losing his wife and the only life he’d ever known, her father had raised his three daughters to be strong in their faith. To not let their circumstances weigh them down. That God would provide.

Yet her father had worked the last twenty years of his life in a dark factory and died of a heart attack on the way home to his two youngest daughters while riding a public bus during a snowstorm. Help hadn’t arrived in time to save him.

God had not provided, but Heather refused to allow that to shatter her faith. She owed that much to her father.

Heather snatched her sweater off the back of the chaise lounge in her bedroom and crammed it into a bag.

Time to go. Hide from Brian. Again.

Her heart ached with the reality that she had come so far only to be pulled back by the man who had always been determined to keep her under his thumb.

“I’ll be back,” she whispered to her cozy bedroom. That was a promise. She turned and hustled down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, Zach extended a hand to take her bag. “Is this it?”

Heather tipped her head. “I don’t suppose I’ll be needing much, considering I’ll be wearing Ruthie’s wardrobe.”

Lifting the strap of her bag over his shoulder, he shot her a look she couldn’t quite read. “I talked to the workmen. They’ll finish up here and Ruthie’s going to lock up on her way out.”

“And there’s no way Brian will follow us to Ruthie’s?” Unease twisted her stomach. “I can’t—”

“You’ll have to trust me on this. Come on.” With a hand to the small of her back, he led her outside. His intense scrutiny of their surroundings both comforted and unnerved her. They walked down the muddy driveway, made uneven by the horses’ hooves and the narrow wheels of the workmen’s wagons.

Alarm coursed through her. “My sisters. They must have heard that Brian escaped. They’ll be worried.” She dragged her hand across her forehead. The intensity of the morning sun made her feel queasy. “You don’t think he’d go after them?”

“He’s here. He’s coming for you.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, an awkward, nervous sound. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Half his mouth quirked into a grin. During the trial, she had never seen him so much as crack a smile. “I didn’t mean...”

Heather held up her hand. “I know what you meant. But do you think I could contact my sisters? At least let them know I’m okay and to tell them to be more cautious. To report anything suspicious.”

“Of course. We can make a few phone calls from the sheriff’s office before I take you to Ruthie’s home.” He quickened his pace, nudging her forward with a hand to her elbow. “But let’s get you off this property.”

Heather squinted against the sun and tented her hand over her eyes. “Where did you park?” He was leading her across the narrow country road.

“I parked behind the buggy here. I didn’t want to draw attention to my vehicle in case Fox was watching.”

Still holding her elbow, he led her around the buggy and they both came up short. Her stomach bottomed out and she willed away her urgent need to throw up. The windshield of his truck had been smashed.

With two hands on her waist, Zach set her next to the buggy like she was a child who needed to be told to stay put and not move. He reached for his gun. “Stay here.” He set her bag down on the gravel lot.

A flush of dread washed over her and she struggled to catch her breath. She glanced around, her vision narrowing. A crow silently flapped its wings overhead, cutting a path across the sky.

The cornfields swayed in the winds. The sweet scent of corn and dried leaves reached her nose.

A split-rail fence in need of repair.

A long-ago abandoned silo.

Yesterday, this landscape had brought her peace. Today she saw nothing but places for Brian to hide.

She flexed and relaxed her hands, trying to tamp down her panic. He was not going to destroy her life. Not again.

Leaning over, she scooped up the strap of her bag that Zach had dropped and waited. She glanced around to make sure they were alone. Zach did the same as he strode across the gravel lot.

After a closer inspection of his vehicle, he walked back toward her, all the while keeping a watchful eye on the landscape. His posture relaxed. Perhaps he was convinced the immediate threat had passed. Something made him go back to the vehicle and open his driver’s door. He paused. A muscle ticked in his jaw. He stepped away from the open door with an envelope in his hand.

“What’s that?” Despite her best efforts to be strong, her voice trembled.

“It’s addressed to you.” But he didn’t hand it to her. They made eye contact briefly before he pulled out a pocket knife and slid the blade under the seal of the envelope.

Another crow cawed overhead as he pulled out a piece of paper and unfolded it. The edges flapped in the wind. She stepped closer, wanting to read the note. Not wanting to read the note. Blinking rapidly, her eyes watered from staring at the bright white paper in the blinding sunshine. The wavy black lines came into focus: “You can run. But you can’t hide.”

She let out a long breath between tight lips. She recognized Brian’s handwriting. The same meticulous letters that he’d carved into notes giving her instructions on what to buy for dinner or how to wear her hair or when to be home. Or how to wash his clothes, hang his pants, fold his socks. His demanding directives had been as particular as they were plentiful.

He’d controlled her.

Heather’s stomach twisted and she feared she would have thrown up if not for her empty stomach.

“I wonder why he left the note in my truck and not in your house. He had access.” Zach turned the note over in his hand.

Heather turned her back to the truck, suddenly sensing they were not alone. “He wanted me to know that even you can’t keep me safe.”

* * *

Zach slammed his fist on the frame of the door of his truck and muttered under his breath. “We’re going to have to get a sheriff to take us to their office.”

“My car is parked behind the barn.”

“No, it’s better if we don’t take your car. Too obvious.” Just then, he looked up and saw Deputy Gates walking toward his patrol car. He waved to the man. Gates climbed into his vehicle and drove over, pulling up alongside his damaged truck. The officer rolled down his window. “What happened here?”

“Fox got to my truck. He might be hiding in the cornfields.” Zach kept Heather close as he scanned his surroundings. He tapped the roof of the sheriff’s patrol car. “Forget about my truck for now. I can get someone to tow it to a collision shop. I need to get Miss Miller out of here. All this open space is giving me the willies.”

He thought he heard Heather mutter, “The willies?” under her breath.

“Can you take us to the sheriff’s department?”

The deputy tipped his head toward the back of his vehicle. “Hop in.”

Zach held out his hand for Heather. Hesitancy flashed in her eyes before she climbed in. He suspected not many people liked to travel in the back of a patrol car. He ran around and jumped in the front passenger seat.

Zach looked over his shoulder and smiled at Heather sitting in the backseat. “We’ll get you to safety.”

She stared at him with a blank expression in her eyes, seemingly unconvinced.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Miller. I’m Deputy Conner Gates. I hear you’re opening a bed-and-breakfast in your grandmother’s house,” the deputy said casually to Heather as he pulled out onto the road.

“Yeah...” She stretched the word out, as if she were about to ask him how he knew her plans, but then realized word traveled quickly in a small town. “I hope to open in less than two weeks. I already have it booked.”

“The fall foliage is beautiful. Our little hotel in town can’t keep up with the tourists. You’ll have a booming business, I’m sure.” The deputy was good at making small talk, obviously trying to distract Heather from the events going on around her.

“That’s what I was counting on,” Heather said, noncommittally. Defeat slipped into her tone, as if her dreams had been forever dashed by today’s events.

“The town will be happy to see the old house come to life again.” The deputy flicked his gaze into the rearview mirror and Zach could imagine Heather smiling back politely.

“How far is the sheriff’s office?” Zach asked, determined to get the focus off Heather.

“In the center of town. Ten-minute drive. From there, we’ll get an unmarked vehicle to take Miss Miller to a safe location.”

“I have something else in mind. Something Fox would never expect.” Zach tapped the door handle, nervous energy from the adrenaline surging through his veins.

“Whatever you say,” the deputy said.

Cornfields whizzed past in a blur. A flash of something dark emerged from the cornfields just ahead, catching Zach’s eye and making his pulse spike. He held up his hand, as if that would stop the car. “Slow down.”

Before the deputy slowed, the form—dressed in black—crouched low on the side of the road.

“Get down!” Zach yelled. “Get down!”

The back window shattered with an explosive sound. The patrol car skidded, weaved, then picked up speed.

The deputy scrambled for the radio controls. “Shooter on Lapp Road. In the cornfields point five miles from the Miller home. Patrol car’s been hit. Send backup.”

“Stay down,” Zach yelled as he tried to stay hunkered down and get a location on the shooter. A ping sounded somewhere else on the vehicle. He cursed under his breath. “Stay down.” He stretched his hand over the seat and touched Heather’s head. She had unbuckled and taken refuge in the tight space behind the front seat.

After another half mile, Zach was confident the shooter had retreated into the cornfields. “Pull over.”

The deputy did as Zach instructed. Zach climbed out and yanked open the back door, his heart racing in his chest. “Heather, Heather! Are you okay?”

Heather sat up, terror radiating in her bright brown eyes. He reached out and raked the shards of glass from her hair. “Are you hit?”

She pressed her hand to her chest. “I... No...no, I’m okay.”

“Okay.” Zach gritted his jaw in determination. He closed her car door, then leaned into the front passenger seat. “Take her to the sheriff’s office. I’m going after him.”

Without waiting for the deputy to finish his protest, Zach slammed the door and patted the roof. “Go!” Grabbing his gun from its holster, he ran back in the direction of the shooter, his senses on high alert.

Every twig snap, bird crow and rustling stalk sent his adrenaline spiking over the edge.

Fox. It had to be Fox. He couldn’t let him get away.

Breathing hard, Zach reached the point where the gunman had emerged from the cornfields, and based on the footprints, the same point where he had ducked back into them. Zach had also noted the mile marker.

Pulse whooshing in his ears, he slowed, cautious not to get ambushed, fearing his need to get revenge might override his better judgment.

Examining the ground, he noticed a heavy boot print in the dirt. Sliding between the cornstalks, he followed the prints, the deeper in, the less certain the path of travel, but they seemed to be leading to woods on the other side of the fields.

Once he reached the woods, he slowed, trying to quiet his ragged breath. In the distance, he heard water, a river or creek. Pausing a moment, he let his eyes adjust to the heavily shadowed woods, except for the occasional beam of bright sunlight that penetrated the thick canopy.

Gun in hand, he made his way deeper into the woods, toward the sound of water. Once he got to the clearing, he caught sight of a man on a dock, leaning over something. A boat, maybe?