Читать книгу Plain Secrets - Kit Wilkinson - Страница 13

FOUR

Evening came fresh and cool. After a large helping of Hannah’s hearty shepherd’s pie, Eli followed Chief McClendon and Thomas Nolt onto the front porch.

He stopped at the edge of the stoop and looked into the clear night sky. He had forgotten how many stars one could see on a clear night in the country sky. He’d forgotten the rushing sounds of the wind, and of the leaves, and of the livestock milling about. Even the smells, he’d forgotten—that earthy blend of grasses and compost and animal and home cooking and unfinished wood.

It’s true, Lord. Here, it is easier to see You, to hear You, to be with You. He breathed in deeply all the familiar odors and smiled up at the night sky. If only he could record all the sensations for when he returned home to the city.

The other men’s voices pulled him back to the moment. Chief McClendon turned to Thomas. “I thank your family for such kindness to me this evening.”

“Gut to see you, Chief. Not so gut, your reason for coming.” Thomas gave Eli a frosty glare. Then the two men shook hands like old pals, while Eli stood there, feeling about as welcomed as the Plague.

He had not expected a warm welcome from his old school friend and neighbor, but he hadn’t expected one quite this glacial, either. He supposed it was his fault seeing as the man had caught Hannah practically in his arms. Even though Thomas and Hannah were not engaged, as Thomas had insinuated, Thomas’s intentions seemed clear. At the very least it was readily apparent that he felt completely responsible for Hannah and very protective toward her. Hannah’s feelings on the matter were less obvious. She attended to Thomas as head of the household, but she didn’t show him any particular regard—not that Elijah was taking notes or anything. He couldn’t have cared less. He had no interest in Hannah. He’d just been trying to get her to talk to him, and if Thomas hadn’t shown up when he did, she would have. He was sure of it.

Eli glanced through the broken window at her, washing up dishes in the kitchen. She turned as if aware of him, offered a smile, then quickly averted her eyes back to her work.

Right. He felt nothing for her. The spike in his pulse must have been agitated nerves from his unexpected return to Willow Trace. Eli sighed and tried to focus once again on the case. “So, Hannah found the girl as I saw her in the pictures that you, Chief McClendon, took and filed away without further inquiry?”

McClendon shook his head, some regret in his expression. “I’ve been working with the Plain folk long enough to know what is acceptable. I do try not to interfere, but this case is different. I don’t feel comfortable simply walking away. Thomas, consider making allowances this time.”

“We appreciate Chief McClendon’s respect. That is why Mr. Miller need not stay in Willow Trace,” Thomas said.

McClendon frowned at Thomas. “As I said, I don’t usually interfere, but I think this case is different. Call it instinct. I should have some of it after working the job for twenty-five years. Thomas, I hope you’ll accept my advice to have Detective Miller stay on at the farm for a day or two. Losing one of you has been hard enough. And with the incident that occurred today, I cannot turn a blind eye.”

Thomas and Eli looked uncomfortably at each other.

Eli had about as much desire to stay at the Nolts’ as Thomas had for him to be his guest. But from the way McClendon was behaving, it seemed as if the alternative was to have a patrol car on the farm, and neither McClendon nor Thomas would have any part of that. Eli tried to hide his skepticism. The Lancaster County Police Department was a large organization. It was hard to believe there wasn’t one trustworthy individual among its ranks to work with the Amish. As far as Eli was concerned, McClendon, Hannah and Thomas were all hiding something, and he intended to find out what that was. How the governor fit into all of this he couldn’t even imagine.

At dinner, he had not gleaned much new information. But one thing was certain—they all knew Jessica’s death was no accident. There was an undercurrent of fear riding through the house.

Thomas frowned. “I made a mistake to leave Hannah alone at the house today. It will not happen again, I assure you both.”

The chief nodded. “I know you’ll make every effort to take care of your own. And normally, I wouldn’t press my ways on you. But I’m asking you this one time to keep Mr. Miller close. He’s got a phone and a radio and—”

“And a gun,” Thomas finished his sentence.

“And a gun.” The chief nodded and turned toward his car. “I’ll check with you tomorrow, Detective.” He stepped into his squad car and drove away.

Don’t call us, we’ll call you, Eli thought. Thanks, Chief. What was that? No explanation of the pictures. No mention of what had happened to the girl’s clothing. No hint of a theory as to who had been behind the shooting earlier.

As the Lancaster chief drove away, the tension between Thomas and Elijah returned in full. They stood in silence on opposite ends of the porch.

“I didn’t ask for this case,” Eli said at length. “But now that it has been assigned to me, I intend to see it through.”

“Meaning what exactly?” Thomas glared back at him.

“Meaning I’ll be around for a few days asking questions about Jessica, about her friends and about her death.”

“Questions to Hannah? Questions about Hannah?” Thomas folded his arms over his chest, making him seem even larger than he already was.

“I’ll be asking questions of all of you.” Eli shifted his weight. “It is what I do. Solve crimes. Find the bad guys. I don’t want to be here any more than you want me here. So if you want to make my stay shorter, then tell me what happened to Jessica so I can do my job and get out of here.”

“And what if there are not any bad guys, as you say?” Thomas said. “What if Jessica’s death was an accident?”

“I find that a little hard to swallow after what happened this afternoon. I’m pretty sure you do, too. Look, I had planned to stay at the bed-and-breakfast. You’re clearly uncomfortable with—”

“No.” Thomas put his hand up stiffly. “It will not be said that I did not protect my family. Come. I will show you where you will stay tonight…in the horses’ stable.”

* * *

Hannah could not sleep. The sound of bullets zipped through her brain. The crash of glass breaking. The cold feel of Jessica’s hands. The black car whizzing away from the barn.

And Elijah Miller. The warm touch of his hands on her elbow, that soft way he gazed at her—even after all these years. A softness she did not deserve. She’d broken his heart when she’d chosen Peter. Or so his sister, Abigail, had told her. And for what? To have a family with Peter and his daughter—a family she would lose before she turned thirty. Even though she was unable to birth children, she’d wanted so badly to be a mother. She couldn’t have known how it would end. But not once had she regretted her choice in Peter. He had been a wonderful husband and Dat and friend.

She noticed, too, that Elijah seemed happy in his choice not to take vows. Still he had sat so comfortably at the dinner table among them—despite the awkwardness with Thomas. He’d put his weapon away and eaten a king’s portion of her cooking. That was most pleasing to her. He had talked freely about his work. And what work he did! She couldn’t imagine the frightening things he faced in the outside world. She could never…

Under streams of white moonlight, Hannah stared through her small window down the path to where Eli slept in the horses’ stable. Thomas was a bear for making him sleep out in the cold. Although the way Mama Ruth snored, Eli might find it a kindness not to be in the house with them.

What truly wasn’t right was that Elijah still had not been told anything about Jessica’s death and the black car. He was not stupid. He knew they weren’t telling him everything. And while she did believe that God wanted them to accept what had happened to Jessica, she also believed that there could be good in discovering the truth—if it kept her safe, if it saved another from Jessica’s fate. As Elijah had pointed out to her earlier, there was good in the work of the police. It was not merely to pass judgment and serve vengeance. They were there to protect, as well.

That’s why tomorrow she would talk to Thomas and convince him to tell Elijah the whole story of the black car, the change of clothes, the bloodstains and the intruder in the barn.

Elijah, who after all these years still made her heart race. He’d grown even more handsome since she’d seen him last—stronger, taller. When he’d arrived at the front of the house, her heart had nearly flipped inside her chest. He’d looked so fine and fancy in the tight-collared shirt and jeans. And those huge blue eyes of his had always muddled her thoughts. What fun they had had together so long ago. How quick he had always been to make her smile.

The groan of wood bending sounded from the stairwell. Hannah sat up quickly and held in her breath. Someone was on the stairs. Who could it be? They’d all gone to bed hours ago.

She listened, but Ruth’s snores filled the air again and there was nothing else to be heard. Maybe it was Thomas? He usually slept in Dawdi Haus, but he wasn’t much of a sleeper. He could be up checking on things. And, really, who could sleep with all that snoring?

Hannah sighed and pulled the covers over her shoulders. Thomas was a good man and very protective of those he loved. She knew that he cared for her, as she did for him. He was sweet to offer her marriage. But something had kept her from giving him an answer to his proposal. Today, after seeing Eli Miller, she couldn’t help wondering if her hesitation had something to do with racing pulses and easy smiles.

Should that matter, Lord? Should the shivers and chills a man gives us with a glance make a difference to our hearts?

She didn’t know. Truth be told she’d forgotten all about those kinds of feelings. Until today.

I must be the silliest woman on the earth to wonder such things, she scolded herself. I know what matters, Lord. That I serve You in all I say and do.

She doubted that included thoughts of Elijah Miller and his blue jeans. Goodness. What had gotten into her head? It wasn’t as if she and Elijah could ever be together. He was an outsider. She’d be shunned by the People—never allowed to return, or have a meal with them, or pray, or even speak with them. She would never even consider such a thing… .

Anyway, Elijah Miller wasn’t interested in her. Ach! He’d shown nothing but disdain at being back in Willow Trace. Her thoughts must be the result of a tired mind.

It was late. She needed sleep. Without Jessica, she had twice as much work to do around the house. Hannah closed her eyes tight. But still sleep did not come. In between the rhythmic crescendos of Nana Ruth’s loud expirations, Hannah heard the downstairs floorboards creak again. She sat up again and fumbled on the nightstand until she found her small candle and lit it. Should she go downstairs?

If Thomas wasn’t sleeping either, she would go down now and talk to him. She slipped from bed, pulled one of her dark frocks over her head and hooked it quickly up her back. After tucking her long braid into a bun, she grabbed a bonnet that lay on the chest at the end of her bed. It was Jessica’s, but it fit well enough. Then she blew out her candle and slipped down the stairs in bare feet.

“Thomas?” she whispered into the dark room. At the foot of the stairs, she searched the corners of the large room. A few beams of moonlight lit the space, as well as the dying embers in the fireplace. It must have been later than she thought. A shiver trickled down her spine. The hole in the window had left the room quite chilly. Thomas would have to get a new piece of glass for that right away.

Speaking of Thomas, where was he? The downstairs seemed to be empty. “Thomas? Are you there?”

Hannah shuffled to a chair in front of the fire where a nice warm quilt lay. She unfolded the heavy blanket and draped it over her shoulders.

Click.

Her head turned fast to the front door. It popped open and swung wide, letting in another blast of cool air.

“Thomas?” she called loudly this time. Still no answer. Had the door opened on its own? No. Thomas had locked it.

Hannah’s pulse spiked as she had that feeling again—that feeling she’d had in the barn the other morning. The feeling she was not alone. Coming downstairs had been a bad idea.

She peered out onto the dark porch. “Thomas? Are you there?”

Another floorboard creaked; her heart plummeted. Thomas was not outside. But someone was there, in the kitchen. She had to get back upstairs and wake Nana Ruth. Forgetting the opened door, Hannah raced back over the hardwood floors to the bottom of the steps.

She looked up, ready to ascend, when she realized her mistake. The intruder was not in the kitchen. He was on the stairs.

A man dressed in all black came at her from the stairwell, face hidden in the shadows. He pushed her down to the floor, almost as if he had tripped. Her hands became pinned beneath her chest. Her head landed with a thunk onto the hardwood.

“Don’t make a sound,” he said. “I won’t hurt you. I just… I need the journal. You have it. I know you do.”

He came down on her, pressing a knee in her back so that she could not get free. “So, where is it?”

Where was what? What was he talking about? She knew nothing about a journal. “I have no journal,” she pleaded. “I know not of what you speak.”

He pushed her harder into the floor. “But you have to. You have to have Jessica’s journal. She said you knew about it, about where it was. I need it. You need it. Where is it?”

Jessica’s journal? What was he talking about? How could Jessica have a journal? Hannah and Nana Ruth had already been through the girl’s things. There was nothing like a journal. She knew not what to say to this man. But she wondered if this journal he spoke of was the reason for Jessica’s death.

Help me, Lord. What do I do?