Читать книгу Plain Secrets - Kit Wilkinson - Страница 11

TWO

“What’s going on?” Hannah tried to sit up and take stock of the situation. Elijah pushed her back to the ground.

“Stay down. Someone’s shooting at us.” He rolled onto his back and pulled his Glock from its shoulder holster, aiming it toward the woods.

Hannah stared wide-eyed at his gun. She scooted back a few feet, then started to stand.

“What are you doing?” He jumped up after her, shielding her body again but continuing to face the woods with his firearm cocked and ready. “You’re making yourself a target. Those are real bullets, Hannah.”

“Jah, all the more reason to move inside, no?” She hurried toward the porch.

Okay. Maybe she had a point.

Eli covered her as they made their way to the front door. He kept his eyes on the edge of the nearby forest. “Is anyone else home?”

She shook her head.

“I’ll go first.” He slipped in front of her and into the house, gun raised. Glass from the broken window had sprayed out across the hardwood floor. Otherwise, the large open space looked untouched. He pulled her in behind him and placed her in a corner away from the open door and window.

“Stay here while I check upstairs and in the Dawdi Haus.”

Hannah nodded. Eli ran up the stairs. He checked the bedrooms and single bath of the main cottage. He opened the connecting door leading to the Dawdi or grandparent addition and hurried through the small, attached living space. The entire place was empty.

“Clear.” He descended to the living room. Hannah was still crouched in the corner. He put away his gun and knelt in front of her. “I’m going to search the woods. Don’t move until I get back.”

“You’re going back out there?” Her eyes widened.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, trying to catch one of her nervous glances, but her eyes would not rest. She shook all over. And he didn’t blame her. Someone had just blown out her front window. He hated to leave her, but he had to check the woods. “I’ll be right back. And I’ll keep an eye on the house the whole time.”

She nodded, her body still trembling and her eyes avoiding his. But he could see the tears in them. As her head sank lower, Elijah’s heart dropped. He hated the fear she was feeling on top of the pain she’d already been through. This wasn’t the time for condolences, but the words burst out anyway.

“I’m sorry about your daughter. I’m sorry about Jessica.”

He quietly slid through the front door and took off across the front lawn, finding cover behind an unfinished wooden shed, his car, then an old stone well. His mind spun hard and fast with muddled questions and strange emotions…and Hannah. And he didn’t like any of it one bit.

At the forest edge, Eli did his best to estimate the position of the shooter and he scanned for any evidence—a footprint, a thread of material, bullet casings. Anything besides a plethora of flora and fauna. But there was nothing, not even a squirrel skittering about. So when a twig snapped behind him, he immediately turned and raised his gun.

He lowered it just as quickly. A small child stood there—an Amish child, dressed in a blue shirt, black trousers with suspenders and a straw hat.

“Sorry.” Eli clicked on the safety of his gun and slid the piece back into its holster. “Don’t be afraid. I thought you were someone else.”

The boy frowned and pointed through the woods. “He went that way.”

“Who went that way?”

“You look for man with, uh, der Pistole?” The boy looked at the Glock.

“You saw the man with the gun?”

The boy nodded and pulled his hand from behind his back to reveal a large black hat, the kind the Amish men wore.

“The man was Amish?” Eli’s voice cracked with surprise.

The boy shook his head. “Nein. English he was.”

“But he wore this hat?”

“Jah. He wear hat but also he have a…Oberlippenbart.” The boy pointed to his upper lip.

“A mustache?” Eli was thankful the kid was observant. No Amish man grew a mustache—only the beard. So, the kid was right. The shooter could not have been Amish. Not that it was likely a shooter was Amish anyway, as the People did not support the use of weapons—and hence the main reason his own father could not accept his choice of professions. “Did you see where he went?”

“In black car. Big black car.” The boy’s eyes were wide with admiration.

A black car? Like the one that nearly caused the wreck earlier? “And the car?”

“It goes.”

Of course, the car was long gone, but at least he’d been searching in the right place. Whoever he was, he had taken his shell casings with him, meaning he was probably not an amateur. Although if he was a pro, and had been aiming at Eli or Hannah, then why had he missed? They’d been standing out in the open, without a thought of danger, until the first shot had been fired. Could his poor aim have been deliberate? Like warning shots? Eli looked back at the boy. “Okay, son. Let’s get you home. Where do live?”

“Miller’s Grove.”

Elijah nodded. Miller’s Grove was the home of his uncle. “What’s your name, son?”

“Nicholas.” He grinned. “Nicholas Miller.”

“Well, you get on home, Nicholas Miller.” Eli smiled at the child. “Can I have that hat?”

The boy lifted the hat to him. “Are you a policeman?”

“I am,” Eli said, then watched the child, his very own cousin, scramble down the same path he’d taken so many times, so many years ago. At the other edge of the woods, an older girl with golden braids walked the path in her bare feet. No doubt it was Nicholas’s sister come to fetch her brother home.

Elijah sighed and headed back to Nolt Cottage. Great. That cute cousin would head home now and tell all his siblings about the cop in the woods…and then everyone would know he was back in Willow Trace.

But would he be staying long enough to make a difference to his family? He wasn’t sure yet. From those surprising first few minutes, it looked as though he was needed in Willow Trace—at least judging by the flying bullets. But even that didn’t make him want to stay. Seeing Hannah had been strange enough. He couldn’t imagine a confrontation with his own father. No. The sooner he was out of there, the better.

* * *

Hannah wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging her knees to her chest, as if she could squeeze away her own fears. But when her eyes fixed on the shards of broken glass spread across the floor, she continued to tremble.

Today had been the first time she’d dared be alone since that morning in the barn, since Jessica’s “accident”—as Thomas, her brother-in-law, referred to the girl’s death. But Hannah didn’t believe Jessica’s death was an accident. Dead bodies don’t get placed in barns by accident. People probably don’t shoot at you and your house accidentally, either. Losing Jessica had been devastating enough on its own—she had never once imagined that whatever had gotten Jessica killed could put herself or any others in danger, too.

Perhaps Thomas and she should not have kept silent about the events surrounding Jessica’s death. About the blood and how she’d been away all night. About her many secrets. About the black car at the barn and the intruder who pushed Hannah down and locked her inside. If only she could relive that last week. As her mother, she could have prevented this. She should have prevented this.

In her mind she replayed the moments when she could have stopped Jessica and asked her what she was about. Each time she’d failed. What she would give to have just one more day with her precious daughter. Hannah dropped her head in a fit of sobs. What she would give not to have found her in the stable that morning. It seemed the more she tried to push away the memory of that morning, the more she relived it in her mind… .

“Oh, Jessica, I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry. If only I had been a better mother to you.” Hannah had turned the girl’s hands over in her own as she knelt beside her in the stall. The girl was so disheveled, bloodied, dirty. “This is all my fault. I should have known what you were about. Rumspringa or not, I should have taken better care of you. I can never forgive myself.”

Hannah had brushed the dirt and loose hairs from the girl’s face.

“What’s the trouble?” A deep voice had sounded at the front of the barn.

It was Thomas. He must have wondered why she wasn’t in the house making breakfast. She moved to the side so that he could see his niece in the sheep’s bed of straw.

He froze, the color draining from his face. He rushed forward. “Is that—is that Jessica?”

Hannah met his dark eyes. “I—I found her here. She’s dead, Thomas. Jessica is dead. I have failed her and Peter and God…and you.”

“This is not your doing,” he said. “You must not blame yourself. You were a gut mother to her, Hannah. As gut as her own mother could have been. As good as if you had given birth to her yourself.”

His words were meant to comfort, but Hannah fell limp at the reminder of her infertility and the end of what was to be her only chance at motherhood. She just sat crying silently as Thomas placed Jessica’s hands together on her belly and patted them.

“Our God is sovereign, Hannah. He alone is ruler and judge. We must accept what has happened. Be strong.” He touched his hand to hers. “I will call the elders.”

“No. Please. I don’t want anyone to see her this way.”

He had seen she could not be calmed. “Stay with Jessica until I return. I will bring her clothes. I don’t want Nana to see her this way, either. I will also have to call the police, Chief McClendon. He is sensitive to our ways.”

“Yes. Call the police. They will find who did this to my precious Jessica. I will tell them about the car I saw, and—”

Thomas put a finger to her mouth to stop her speech. “You will tell them nothing, Hannah. You know it is not our way to search for answers. It is in God’s hands. Promise me you will say nothing.”

She promised. He was right, of course—investigating was not what the Amish did. But she couldn’t help wishing, as impossible as it seemed, that someone would come and help her find the truth.

Footsteps sounded on the front porch and she stiffened, turning her face toward the door. Elijah’s solid frame blocked the sun from the room, and his dark shadow covered her. Both startled and relieved, Hannah placed a hand over her mouth and released a tight breath.

“I’m sorry. That took longer than I expected. I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you okay?” He entered the house slowly.

“I am okay.” She nodded. “Did you see anyone?”

“Yes. But not the shooter. I saw a child. And according to him, the man with the Pistole drove away in a big black car.”

A black car? Like the one at the barn when she’d found Jessica? She swallowed hard. “A child?”

He nodded. “Nicholas Miller. My own cousin, I believe.”

“He is. Son of your cousin John. He comes to see the young horses from time to time. Loves them, he does. He wasn’t hurt, was he?”

“No. He’s fine. Went home down the path. I watched him through the forest.” He walked closer. His eyes narrowed on her. “Do you know something about a black car?”

“How would I know about a black car?” She tried to keep her voice steady, but Eli’s penetrating eyes kept her on edge. “I pay no attention to such things.”

Closing in the space remaining between them, he offered a hand to help her up. “You sure you’re okay, Hannah?”

“Ach. It’s not every day people run around Willow Trace with guns and bullets.” She stood without his help, took a step back and tried to face him. But the intensity in his eyes made her more nervous than she already felt.

He walked back to the front door and checked that it was secure. She hoped that he had put away his gun. He must remember that guns were verboten. Although there was something—a dark object—in his hands. As he moved back to the kitchen, she saw that it was a black broad-rimmed hat like the one Amish men wore when they weren’t working in the sun. She wanted to ask him where he’d gotten it, but there was a more pressing question at hand. “Do you intend to stay awhile?”

Eli frowned taking a look down at the hat, which he then tossed onto the tabletop. “No, I don’t—just long enough to figure out what’s going on. According to my little cousin, this hat belongs to our shooter.”

“Sure.” She lifted a brow and glared at him. “An Amish man with a gun. Shooting at my house. Maybe you’ve forgotten but we don’t have or use guns.”

He gave her a dissatisfied look. “Any joker off the street can buy one of these hats in a tourist shop or online.”

Right. Hannah dropped her head.

“So, let’s get started, shall we? Who is shooting at you and why?”

Eli didn’t sound angry, but in his eyes, she could see how uncomfortable he was to be there, talking to her again. She told herself that that was why he was being so abrupt, so different from the boy she remembered. She also told herself—and tried to believe—that his detached tone didn’t hurt.

“I have no idea.” And that was the truth. “In fact, maybe that someone was shooting at you? Your life involves guns much more often than mine, does it not? Or maybe it was a hunter with a bad aim?”

He tilted his head to the other side. “Except that it’s not hunting season. You said yourself no one around here owns a gun. And for the other possibility, well…if someone wanted to shoot at me they would have better opportunities than driving out to Lancaster County and aiming through the woods.”

She let out a nervous laugh. “Then it must be a mistake. Who would shoot at me?”

“A mistake?” His face was grim as he pulled his pistol from under his jacket, did something with it that made some clicking sounds, then returned it to his side. He looked up at her again and clenched his jaw. “Two shots within inches of each other, that’s no mistake.”

Hannah turned away and continued to stall the conversation. “Your weapon should be outside.”

“Someone just shot at you. The gun stays here with me where I can use it.”

“Then maybe you should go.” She lifted her head high as if to challenge him.

“Gladly, just as soon as you tell me what’s going on around here.”

“I do not know what you mean.”

“I’m talking about your stepdaughter’s death and someone shooting at you.” He folded his hands over his chest. “I’m here to investigate what happened to Jessica.”

His words sent a quiver over her lips, but she fought through it. She would not cry in front of Elijah Miller. “Again, you—you must be mistaken. There was not to be an investigation. There was…nothing to investigate.”

Elijah tossed a photo on the table next to the black hat. “Her neck was cut. She’s bruised all over. Four days later someone is shooting at you and you say there is nothing to investigate?”

“How did you get that?” She glanced at the photo, immediately recognizing the wound to her dear girl’s neck. Grabbing at her stomach, she turned away. She must be strong. There was no need to involve Elijah in this.

“Chief McClendon of the Lancaster police.” Eli removed the photo from the table and put it away in his jacket pocket. “He asked me to come here and see what I could find out.”

“And what do you find so far?”

“I think there is something to investigate. I think you should talk to me. This is no game, Hannah. You need to protect yourself. Someone is threatening you and your family. You cannot sit and be silent.”

“I know you want to help. And it’s very kind of you.” She forced a smile. “But it’s not our way. We will accept what has happened.”

“It’s not very kind of me. I don’t want to be here one bit. But it’s my job and I take that pretty seriously. Now please stop avoiding my questions and tell me how and when all this started.”

She glanced at him and saw the frustration but also sorrow in his eyes. Like so many years ago when she told him she’d decided to marry Peter. Then, too, she had not told him the entire truth. Here she was again, keeping secrets. But she had promised and she must keep her word.

She fetched a broom and dustpan from the cupboard, and with short, quick strokes, she began to sweep the broken glass that covered the floor. “Even if there was more to the story, it does not change the fact that Jessica is gone. So what is there to investigate?”

“Perhaps something about this black car that you know about but don’t know about?”

She continued to sweep, not looking his way. He watched her for a few moments, then moved next to her and gently took the broom and dustpan from her hand.

She still refused to look up as she said, “We are all fine. Really.”

“Really? Someone just shot at your house. That doesn’t seem so ‘fine’ to me. I haven’t forgotten the way things work around here. I understand that you want to let go and accept what has happened. I’m not trying to stop that—in fact, you may be able to let go more easily if you know what happened. Don’t you even care about who killed your stepdaughter?”

“Of course I care. I miss her every minute. She was everything to me.” Hannah began to tremble again, but she would not give in to her emotions. She would not show such weakness of faith. “But knowledge does not bring peace and understanding. That comes only from God.”

The back of his hand caressed her cheek. The warmth was comforting, and for a strange, fleeting second, she longed to fall into his arms and weep. Instead she turned away.

He stepped back. “I wish this wasn’t why I was here. I’m so sorry. I know you raised Jessica as your own child. I can’t imagine what you are feeling and after what happened to Peter…”

She looked up and he must have been able to read the surprise in her face.

“Abigail told me. As a midwife, she has a cell phone in order for her patients to contact her when they go into labor. We talk occasionally. She told me about Peter.” He pressed his lips together. “He was a good man, Hannah. If he hadn’t been, I… Well, that was a long time ago. I didn’t come here to rake up the past. You must want to know what happened Jessica. So please, come sit with me. Talk to me. Tell me about her. She must have been a wonderful good girl with you as her Mamm.”

With all of the charisma and ease he’d possessed as a young man, Eli put the broom and dustpan aside and led her back to the kitchen table. But she did not take a seat.

“Perhaps we should go to the porch?” she suggested.

“I don’t think the porch is a good place for you today.” He pulled out a chair for her. After she sat, he removed his coat and hung it over the back of one of the other kitchen chairs and sat opposite her. His gun was still in the holster at his side.

“Have you forgotten everything, Elijah Miller? We don’t have guns in our houses.”

“Actually, it’s you who has forgotten that someone shot at you only fifteen minutes ago.” He smiled and patted the gun under his arm. “It’s staying right where it is.”

“Nana Ruth will be horror-struck.”

“Nana Ruth will never know.” Eli’s ridiculous expression nearly caused her to giggle. She lifted a hand to her mouth to cover her slight smile.

“Please, don’t cover up such a beautiful face,” he said. “It is the one perk of the assignment.”

Perk? She could feel the warmth grow in her cheeks. “You speak with strange words, Elijah Miller.”

“I’ve been gone a long time.”

His lips curved with the hint of a smile. How handsome his face was to behold. She remembered how the sight of him had always stolen a little of her breath. She feared she would reveal too much if she said a single word. It was best to do as she had promised—to keep silent. This would all pass, even if there was a part of her that wanted to know the truth.

“You won’t talk to me, then?” He rose from the table.

“I cannot.”

“No. You choose not to talk. It isn’t the same, Hannah.” He lifted a small black mobile phone from his pocket. “I’m going to call the Lancaster police and report the shooting. They’ll have to come out and file a report.”

“No. Please. You’re the police. Isn’t that enough?”

“You can’t have it both ways. Either you talk to me and tell me the truth or I call Chief McClendon.” He held his little phone in the air, waiting for her decision.

Hannah dropped her head between her hands. She did not want to see Chief McClendon again. But to speak the truth to Elijah…that might be worse.