Читать книгу Amish Christmas Abduction - Dana R. Lynn - Страница 12

ONE

“Didn’t you see the sign? This is private property.”

Irene Martello stepped back from the door, her raised hand falling to her side... The man who answered the door glared at her. It was the most vicious stare she’d ever encountered. Anger at being treated so rudely warred with apprehension. She was here alone...unprotected. Would this man turn violent?

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she managed. “I was trying to find the Zilcher residence.”

She shivered as he glowered, his heavy brows lowering over black eyes. It was difficult to see his mouth through the thick black beard, but she had the distinct impression he was scowling.

“You have the wrong house. They live there.” He jerked his head sharply toward the house next door.

“Sorry...” She opened her mouth to apologize for any inconvenience, but stopped when there was a movement behind Black Beard. A young woman, somewhere in her late teens or early twenties, stood in an open doorway deeper inside the house. As the man whirled around and speared her with a glance, she fled back out of sight. Was that a child crying? Irene leaned forward instinctively, straining to hear. He returned that glare to Irene, and she straightened again. It was none of her business if he had children, she chastised herself. He narrowed his eyes at her, and she felt true fear at the way his eyes blazed at her.

Turning on her heel, she moved briskly back down the steps. Only the fact that the ground was covered with snow kept her from running as she hightailed it back to her SUV. After getting in, she started the engine with a shaking hand, then backed along the driveway and onto the dirt road. She drove past the mailboxes on the side of the road and realized that what she’d thought was a 1 had actually been a 7. A natural mistake to make.

In no time, she was in the driveway of the correct house. She fumbled around for her purse and laptop bag, completely aware that the man had moved outside and was watching her from his porch.

After pushing open the door of her SUV, Irene stepped from the vehicle, glad she’d opted for warmth rather than fashion as her heavy boots crunched the snow beneath them. Against her better judgment, she peeked at the man from house number seven. She instantly regretted it. His face had darkened even more. Turning quickly, her face heated as she felt his glare continuing to bore into her back. She took a deep breath, refusing to admit to herself how unsettling her encounter with the man had been.

Trying to appear calm, she pulled her belongings from the dark red SUV and shut the door with her hip. Slammed it, actually. Even though she refused to look, she was aware that he was still there. Now she was getting mad. Why was he watching her like that? What did he expect? That she’d drive back over to chat? Not likely.

Enough! She had a job to do. A job she loved, even though she’d only been working with the Early Intervention program for two months. Today she was meeting a new family. She shifted the red bag carrying both the laptop and her file of papers for the family to sign.

Determined, she made her way up the narrow walkway to the small house, careful to avoid looking at the man on the porch. It didn’t help matters any that the family had requested a late meeting, due to the father’s work schedule. It was already going on four o’clock. By the time the meeting ended, it would be almost five. LaMar Pond started getting dark around that time in December. At least it was Friday. After this appointment, she could pick up her own kids and enjoy a quiet evening at home.

Come on, Irene. One more home visit, then you’re all done.

Once, only once, did she glance to the right. Her eyes switched targets as she became aware of movement from the side window. The same young woman she’d seen in the house was peering out of the blinds. She had the most hopeless face Irene had ever seen.

Something wasn’t right.

The door in front of Irene opened. Taking her eyes off the creepy house, she forced herself to smile at the young couple waiting anxiously. For now, she needed to focus on work. But as soon as she was done with the meeting, she had every intention of calling her brother, Lieutenant Jace Tucker, and filling him in on the house and the woman. If her instincts were correct—and they usually were—that was a woman who needed help.

It might be nothing. But Irene knew she wouldn’t rest easy until she had called. Maybe Jace wouldn’t be able to do anything, but there was always the possibility that the police would keep a closer eye on the area.

Irene was very familiar with the police. Not only was her older brother a lieutenant, but she’d been married to a cop for six years, six wonderful years, before he’d been killed in the line of duty a little over three years ago.

The familiar ache in her chest when she thought of Tony was almost comforting.

Once inside the warm house, she was escorted into the dining room. She focused on the young family. The little boy she was there to evaluate was adorable, his little head bald except for a light fuzz. He was almost two years old, and had just been diagnosed with a vision impairment. Irene’s job as the service coordinator was to decide if the child qualified for Early Intervention services. The meeting was merely a formality. Having a diagnosis almost always guaranteed that he would receive services.

In less than an hour, the meeting was completed and Irene was pushing her feet back into her winter boots.

“I will call you when I have the IFSP meeting scheduled,” she told the mother, referring to the Individualized Family Service Plan meeting with the family and the therapists who would become part of the little boy’s team.

After bidding the Zilchers goodbye, she pulled the door open and stepped outside. It had started to snow while she was inside. She tried to keep her focus on her car, but it was no use. The other house drew her gaze like a magnet.

The man was probably still home. There were three vehicles in the driveway—a truck, a Jeep and a small sedan. But no one was standing outside. The man must have gone inside.

Relief coursed through her. And quite a bit of embarrassment. Imagine getting so upset because someone was watching her! What a goose she was! It wasn’t like he had threatened her or anything like that.

Getting to her car, she frowned. Her door wasn’t locked. She must have been so rattled by that man that she’d forgotten to lock it. She shrugged. It wasn’t out of the norm to leave doors unlocked in LaMar Pond, especially out on the back roads. She had friends who didn’t even lock their house doors at night.

She quickly climbed into the car and shut the door, making sure to lock it the moment she was inside. After starting the car, she turned up the heat to help rid herself of some of the chill, not all of which was from the weather. Lifting her head, she froze.

There, in the Zilcher family’s front room window, a large Christmas tree sparkled and shimmered. The tree hadn’t been lit when she’d arrived or she would have noticed it, no matter how freaked-out she had been. It was probably on an automatic timer. It was beautiful, looking at it through the snow. She swallowed the lump in her throat. She wasn’t looking forward to Christmas, just a few weeks away. It would be the third since Tony’s death. Her boys would go through another holiday without their father. A father little Matthew hardly remembered. He’d only been two. Now he was five. Seven-year-old AJ had more memories, but had forgotten so many details. It broke her heart.

A soft ping signaled an incoming text. Irene sighed. And this would be her mom, asking her to attend late-night services with her and the family on Christmas Eve. Just like Irene used to do every year before God abandoned her and her babies. She glanced at her phone. Oh, yeah. Just as she thought. She would hear about it later, but she was going to just ignore the text. For now.

A door slammed. Startled, her head jerked up in the direction of the sound. It had come from the man’s house.

He was back, his eyes burning with anger. She could almost feel the menace emanating from him. Thankfully, he wasn’t looking at her. He appeared to be searching for something, though, as his dark gaze swept over his yard.

Dropping her phone, Irene put her car into Reverse and started to back out of the driveway. Thankfully, there was no traffic on the road, so she could pull onto the street, away from the man, without waiting. But moments later, she heard a shout.

He was running her way!

Panicked now, she jerked the gearshift into Drive and peeled out. The vehicle fishtailed. Her grip tightened on the wheel. It straightened out and she continued, exhaling in relief.

Steering her SUV up the hill, she drove as fast as she dared before braking for the stop sign at the T on top of the hill. There was only one car coming. She edged her car forward, ready to turn right. She waited for the other driver to pass, drumming her fingers nervously on the steering wheel.

Come on. Come on.

Her back windshield shattered.

Irene screamed. What had just happened? A look in the rearview mirror confirmed her nightmare. The pickup truck she’d seen in the neighbor’s drive was right on her bumper, and the man with the black beard was leaning out the window, some sort of rifle in his hand. She wasn’t going to give him the chance to take a second shot. She shoved her foot down on the gas and whipped her car forward. She drove as fast as she could. She couldn’t stop now to call the police. If she didn’t concentrate on getting out of here, he’d get her for sure. But the moment she could pull over...

She heard a roar behind her. A glance in the mirror showed the pickup was coming up on her bumper. It was moving faster than she was, dangerously fast given the slick condition of the roads.

Now would be a good time to pray...if she still did that.

Since she didn’t, she was on her own.

The truck slammed into the back of her SUV. She shrieked and pushed her foot down as hard as she dared on the gas pedal. She had never been so grateful for four-wheel drive. Pushing her foot down a little farther, the SUV lurched as it sped up. The truck stayed on her tail, then slammed into her again. Her SUV went into a full spin and slid off the road into a ditch. She was stuck.

Tears tracked down her cheeks. She was going to die! Her babies would be completely orphaned. Suddenly, her boycott on God no longer mattered. There was no one else who could help her.

Lord, help me. Please. Oh, please. Help.

* * *

Chief Paul Kennedy was driving back from a two-vehicle accident on the outskirts of LaMar Pond when the dispatcher announced shots fired near his location. A young woman had called 911, screaming that her neighbor was shooting at her son’s service coordinator and had taken off in his truck after her.

Paul switched on his siren and pushed the hands-free button to answer the call. “Chief Kennedy here. I’m less than a mile away, heading that direction now. Send backup.”

Disconnecting as soon as she confirmed, he said a prayer for the safety of all involved. It was never pleasant to handle road rage. Adding a gun and winter weather into the mix could prove to be a disaster in the making.

He came around the curve, his headlights cutting through the dark. The snowflakes caught in the beams made him think of a snow globe. Then they hit a sight that chilled his heart.

A red SUV was stranded in a ditch. He knew that SUV. It belonged to Irene Martello, his best friend’s younger sister. The girl whose trust he’d shattered so many years ago. She was also the widow of one of his officers, shot down on his watch. Three good reasons he’d never, ever want to see her in danger of any kind. But it looked like that was exactly what was happening.

Directly behind her car, he could see a dark pickup truck had pulled off and parked on the side of the road. And not to help. The driver, a large man with a fierce scowl on his bearded face, had opened his door. He had started to step out of the vehicle, a rifle in his bare hands. This man meant to harm Irene.

The moment Paul appeared, though, he halted. The bright lights and the loud wail of the siren made the bearded man jerk back into his truck before speeding off in the opposite direction. Paul wanted to chase him, needed to stop the maniac. But he needed to check on Irene more. Quickly, he called in a description of the truck and the driver, and called for an ambulance.

Parking his cruiser on the side of the road, he kept his lights on to warn any oncoming traffic to slow down. Then he strode to the driver’s-side door. She was watching him, her face bloodless. From fear, or was she in shock? Either way, he sent up a silent prayer of thanks at the sight of her alive and alert. He rapped on the window. It wasn’t necessary. She was already rolling it down.

“Irene? Are you okay?”

“Paul!” She choked out his name. For the first time in years, her gaze wasn’t cool when she met his eyes. Fear and gratitude took precedence over wounded pride. “I thought he was going to kill me!” Her voice wobbled slightly, but she wasn’t crying. Anymore. The streaks left by earlier tears were evident.

He needed to calm her down, see if she was injured. “Easy, Irene. He’s gone. Are you hurt anywhere? Anything broken?” He scanned her carefully.

She shook her head, then winced. His gaze narrowed in on her forehead. She wasn’t bleeding. There was a dark shadow on her temple that concerned him. It could have been nothing, or a bruise forming. Hard to tell without proper lighting.

“Did you hit your head? It looks bruised. Any dizziness, or blurry vision?”

“I did bang it against the steering wheel when I went into the ditch. But I don’t think I’m really hurt.”

Hmm. He’d have her checked out when the ambulance arrived, just the same.

“What happened?” He kept his voice calm, even though he was feeling anything but.

“You know I started working at the Early Intervention program a couple of months ago?” He nodded. He remembered Jace saying something about that. “I was finishing a home visit. It was my last one of the day. When I first arrived, I accidentally went to the wrong house. That man answered the door and he was very angry to see me there. It was downright creepy. Then, when I was leaving his neighbors after my visit, he came out of the house and started looking around. Not at me, but like he was searching for something. I started driving and he started running after me. I didn’t wait, just took off. Then next thing I knew, I was waiting at the stop sign, and he came up behind me and boom—” she slapped a hand on her steering wheel “—he’d shot out my back window and was coming after me. He rammed his truck into me, twice. The road was icy, and I lost control. I really think he would have killed me if you hadn’t arrived. How did you know I was in danger?”

He had to draw in three deep breaths before he could speak around the red haze threatening to overcome him. His normally calm demeanor was failing him as he tried to keep from thinking of what would have happened if he had been farther away. Thank You, Lord, for placing me here in time to help. Paul was a firm believer that the Lord was in charge.

“The family you’d visited with called nine-one-one. They were able to give the operator the address of the neighbor who attacked you. I was on my way there when I came across your vehicle. I need to check in and make sure an officer is on the scene. Then we can go from there.”

She nodded, relaxing briefly in her seat. Only for a moment, though. Her eyes widened slightly and she sat ramrod straight in her seat, grimacing. Maybe she was more bruised than she’d let on. “There was a woman inside the house when I arrived. Young, nineteen, maybe twenty or twenty-one. I don’t know what was going on in there, but she looked scared, Paul. Really scared.”

“I’ll get it checked out, Irene. I promise.” Paul moved to the front of the car and thumbed the radio on his shoulder to get an update. When he was told that several officers were en route to the scene, he gave the order that they inform him immediately of any findings. He took one step back toward Irene, then stopped. Jace’s shift would be ending soon. He’d want to know what had happened. Paul was his chief, but he was also his best friend. Jace should hear about it from him. Before he could change his mind, he reached back, pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed the familiar number.

“’Lo, Chief.”

Paul winced, even though he’d expected him to answer. He loved Jace like a brother, and this would not be an easy conversation. Jace was used to dealing with violence, but telling him that the shooting target had been his sister this time was not going to go over well.

“Lieutenant Tucker.” Paul hesitated. He always tried to keep things professional when they were at the station. They weren’t at the station, however, and this was an unusual situation.

“Jace...” He addressed the man as a friend. “She’s okay, but the woman shot at was Irene.”

Silence. Then Jace’s deep voice exploded over the phone.

“What? What happened? You’re positive she’s okay? Where are you?”

Paul gave him his location. “He rear-ended her, and her car went into a ditch. Her forehead looks bruised, but she seems lucid and aware. I’m sure she’s fine, but I have an ambulance coming, just to be safe.”

“She’s not going to want to ride in an ambulance.”

Didn’t he know that? If he knew Irene, her first priority would be to get back to her kids as quickly as possible. Plus, she had never liked hospitals.

“Did you get the guy?” Jace’s voice was calmer now.

“No. He ran off when he heard my siren. And I wasn’t about to leave Irene on the side of the road, especially not knowing if she was injured or not.”

“Appreciate that.”

Paul moved back to the side of the car.

A distant siren rent the air. The ambulance. Finally. It was starting to snow harder, which would make the roads more treacherous. Before this night was done, there would be more than one accident for the crew to work on. He would feel much better knowing that Irene was taken care of.

“The ambulance is here now,” Paul said to Jace. “Why don’t you call your mom and let her know what’s going on so she doesn’t worry.”

“How bad does Irene look?”

Bad? Paul nearly smiled. Irene never looked bad. Even bruised and shaken, the red-haired woman was perfect. Of course, he couldn’t say that, although he had a suspicion that Jace was on to him.

“She looks fine. Maybe a little shaken.” Blue eyes glared up at him. “Make that mad, will you?”

An unexpected chuckle floated down the line. “She’s glaring at you, isn’t she?”

“Sure is. And I much prefer that.”

A pause. “Yeah. Me, too.”

An angry Irene was much easier to deal with than a shaken or frightened one. He got that.

“Put her on, will you?”

Paul handed the phone to Irene, then moved away again to give her some privacy. When the ambulance crew came over, she returned the phone to him.

Paul gave them room to do their job. And he did his—setting up flares to warn oncoming traffic to take precautions. By the time he returned to the car, Irene was done being checked out. The paramedics were recommending a trip to the hospital to get her head checked out. As expected, she was set against going.

“You should go to the hospital to get checked out.” Paul bent over for a closer look at the bruise. She rolled her eyes, making him grin.

Irene sighed. “I need to get home to my kids.”

“I had Jace tell your mom where you were. He will make sure that they’re taken care of. Besides, your car will need to be towed. There’s no way you can drive it with the back window blown out. Go to the hospital, and we will bring your car back when it’s drivable. If all it needs is a new windshield, that should be tomorrow morning.”

He received another glare for his trouble. Why did it have to be this hard? He kept hoping that she would forgive him. Then again, what would he do if she did? It wasn’t like he would be any good for a fine woman like Irene. He had way too much baggage. Too many other responsibilities around his neck.

A sudden noise caught his attention.

Irene started to speak. He raised his hand. When she started to look huffy, he said, “Wait. Do you hear something?”

Irene tilted her head, her curls brushing against her cheek as she did. He averted his gaze and was momentarily distracted by the fact that her left hand was ringless. He was sure she had still been wearing her wedding band last time he saw her.

There it was again. A scratching noise. And now a faint mewling sound. Coming from inside her SUV. Paul moved closer and leaned in. Irene backed away from him. Whether that was because he was too close or because it was him, he didn’t know. And now was not the time to ponder it. If something was in Irene’s car with her, he needed to get to the bottom of it, fast.

“Irene, I need you to do exactly what I say.” He kept his voice at a low murmur, the epitome of calm and casual, even though his heart was beating fast.

For once, the stubborn woman nodded without arguing. Guess she was still pretty freaked-out. And who wouldn’t be?

“Go get in my cruiser. I need to see what’s in your car, but I don’t want you here when I do. I need to focus on this completely.”

He didn’t say, And your presence is already too distracting to me. Although he could have. He surely could have.

Paul made eye contact with her, making sure she understood how important this was. She moved towards his car, wobbling slightly on the uneven road. He held on to her elbow until she was steady, then let her go. He watched as the female paramedic led her safely to his cruiser. The paramedics wouldn’t leave the site of an accident until the patient either joined them in the ambulance or signed a refusing-treatment form. So at least, she wouldn’t be alone and unguarded.

The moment he felt she was reasonably safe, Paul shined his flashlight into the back of the car. Nothing was there that he could see. But then he heard the mewling again. This time it was louder.

Moving to the back, he grabbed his gun in one hand and the light in the other. Bracing himself for a fight or to duck, he flashed his light in the back window—and nearly dropped the light in his shock.

Curled up on the floor of Irene’s SUV was a small child. A little girl, although he was unsure of her age. No more than two, he guessed. Judging by her dress and bonnet, she was Amish. She was shivering.

She was also covered in blood.