Читать книгу Lancaster County Target - Kit Wilkinson - Страница 13

FOUR

Abby rushed for the open door, but Blake grabbed her arm and pulled her back. After the day they’d had, he wasn’t too sure running out into the darkness after the unknown was a good idea. Better to fix whatever had been done to the electricity. It would be much easier to spot the intruder with the floodlights on.

“I thought I told you to stay put.”

“I didn’t want to stay back there in the dark by myself.”

Blake couldn’t argue with her reasoning, even though he was pretty certain he’d never met anyone as hardheaded as Abby Miller. In any case, he’d spotted her circuit-breaker panel a few feet from the door. The door to the panel had been opened as if someone had been making adjustments.

“Maybe the power wasn’t off after all. Looks like someone’s been messing with your breakers. Here, take this.” He handed the flashlight to her. “Shine the light this way.”

Blake opened the metal panel. As he’d suspected, the main breaker had been turned off. He flipped it back to the “on” position. Abby was right beside him, turning on both the inside and outside lights. The backyard lit up. Together they scanned the area from the back stoop. Blake saw open fields, a run-in shed and a horse grazing in a large paddock. No intruder.

“I guess we surprised whoever it was and he left.”

“I hope so,” Blake said. “But let’s check the rest of the house anyway.”

Room by room, Blake followed Abby through the house. Nothing looked out of order. When they reached the foyer again, Blake noticed an interior door that in the darkness he hadn’t seen behind the front entrance. The sign on the door read Abigail Miller, R.N. and Certified Midwife, Consultation, Mondays and Wednesdays 12–4. “Impressive.”

“Thanks. I went all-out when I designed the clinic. I wanted to bring the best to Willow Trace.” She walked past him. “And this door was locked when I left for the hospital this morning. I’m certain of that.”

Blake followed her into the clinic and saw that Abigail had built a state-of-the-art facility inside the old cottage. It had been thoughtfully and tastefully done and unlike the rest of the house, which had been so simple and plain, everything here spoke of modern medicine and technology. In its usual state, it was unquestionably very impressive. Right now, it looked like a disaster area. Abby gasped as she staggered forward. Broken glass crunched under her feet. The examining area had been trashed. Boxes of supplies had been strewn across the space. All the shelves had been stripped and their contents spilled all over the table, counters and flooring.

Tears streamed down her face. He could tell she was trying to wipe them away before he could see, but they wouldn’t stop. “I’m sorry. I’m just so tired. And this is so unbelievable.... Two weeks ago, I decide that my calling is nursing, that I don’t want to give it up. I told my family. My father. He’s so upset with me. I had such a peace about it...but now? My wonderful clinic that I created just a few years ago has been ruined and I...don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

Blake knew she wasn’t really talking to him, just venting aloud her frustration and fatigue. His heart felt heavy for her. He felt as if the very center of his life had been destroyed, too, when his parents died in that plane crash. He and Abby definitely had something in common—they were both struggling with their direction and their families.

He looked at her standing there sobbing. He had to do something. He couldn’t just go on as if she were fine. She was a patient, after all. If a patient were crying, he would give them a hug, right?

Slowly, Blake put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze. To his great astonishment, Abby turned into his chest and wept against his shoulder. Blake didn’t know what to do. Keep hugging her? Push her back? He didn’t move. But he couldn’t help but catch the soft floral fragrance of her hair and her skin. After a moment, he unfroze himself, slid his hands to her shoulders and pushed her back.

Abigail’s embarrassment was evident in her flushed cheeks and splotchy neck. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall apart on you. I’m not usually this...this...”

“You have every right to fall apart.” He grazed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I just thought we should call the police. Again.”

He pulled out his cell phone and the card that Chief McClendon had passed to him only a few hours earlier. He dialed the number while trying to give Abby a reassuring smile. “Maybe later I can help you clean it up. It’s not so bad. Right?”

Abby broke into a watery smile and chuckled. “Right. Not so bad.”

As the phone line began to ring, Blake swallowed hard. Abby was like no one he’d ever met—such an odd mixture of independence and vulnerability, of determination and quick wits. He was going to have to be on his guard about more than this person who was after them, because if there was one thing in his life he did not need or have time for, it was romance.

* * *

“Abby, I can’t believe you didn’t send Chief McClendon here to tell me what happened to you today.” Her big brother, Eli, paced his kitchen, pulling on his suspenders and shaking his head of thick blond hair as he walked.

“I was coming straight here.” She could hardly speak from exhaustion. She couldn’t stop shaking and her head throbbed terribly. “Blake was nice enough to swing by my house so that I could pick up some clothes and feed the animals, and that’s when we walked in on whoever that was. Anyway, there was no point in telling you sooner. What could you do? There’s nothing to do except try to get away from it all and wait for the police to catch the man responsible. And that’s why I’m here.”

Even though she still felt like a sitting duck. She’d thought being at her brother’s would make her feel safe, but instead, she now worried that she and Blake had just brought danger with them.

“I don’t know. There’s got to be something we can do,” Eli said. “Chief McClendon told you to lie low?”

“Not in those exact words.” Blake spoke from the corner of the kitchen. Abby blushed at the sound of his voice. She’d hardly been able to look at him after she’d fallen apart at the clinic. Practically jumping into his arms. She wished he’d dropped her off and gone straight back to the bed-and-breakfast. But once Hannah heard they’d had nothing to eat, she wouldn’t allow Blake to escape.

“Is McClendon still at your house?” Eli asked.

“I imagine so.” Blake’s brown eyes were soft again. Not hard and shocked like after the scene at the clinic. “There was an entire crew there, taking pictures and samples.”

“That’s good. Maybe they’ll lift some prints.” Eli continued to pace. He was making her dizzy.

“Relax, Eli.” Abby gave him a hard stare. “You’re not a detective anymore, remember?”

He ignored her. “Was anything missing from your house?”

“Nothing in the house—not that I noticed, anyway. But in the clinic. Most of my medicines were sabotaged. Opened. Slashed. Contaminated. And oddly they stole all my epi-packs.”

“Epi-packs?”

Blake cleared his throat. “They’re for people with severe allergies. Like an emergency kit. The EpiPen is a small dose of epinephrine, which prevents an allergy from sending someone into anaphylactic shock. They have saved a lot of parents trips to the hospitals and even saved lives. Epinephrine is the same drug that I believe was given to Abigail and to Mr. Hancock to send them into cardiac arrest.”

“So too much of a good drug can kill?” Eli asked.

“Exactly,” Blake said. “And epinephrine is not traceable like other drugs in the body because it is produced naturally.”

“What’s strange to me is that this person took the epi-packs after he killed Hancock. What was the point of that?” Abby said. “And the amount of epinephrine he dosed me with was way more than what is in an epi-pack. Clearly, he has access to the drug on his own, so why steal my packs?”

“He’s probably trying to scare you. Or throw off the investigation.” Eli stroked his short beard. “It takes everyone’s eyes off the hospital for a while. Maybe there is unfinished business there.”

“Like killing patients in dark hallways?” Abby said.

“We must get ahead of this guy instead of behind him. The first attempt when he drugged you was serious. He was feeling powerful. But the stairwell and the break-in seem more like scare tactics. He’s not as confident as he was and we should try to keep it that way.”

“How do we get ahead of this person? We don’t know who he is or where he is,” Abby said.

Eli looked up at her with a hopeful expression. “You can describe him, right?”

“Not really.” Abby shook her head. “He was wearing scrubs and a mask. I saw his eyes. That’s about it.”

“Well, the perpetrator could be anyone, not necessarily a doctor from the hospital. But if you have an idea of his size, his voice, skin color—with the computers the composite artists use now, you wouldn’t believe how well they can narrow down a suspect list.”

“Not tonight.” Abby held up her hand. She couldn’t take any more talk about the situation. Her brother meant well but he did not seem to understand what an ordeal she had been through.

Blake stepped forward. “I would have to agree. She needs rest.”

Her brother turned to Blake, then back to her. Abby hid a grin—another man having an opinion about her welfare had definitely thrown her brother off-kilter.

“Essa!” Hannah placed several plates in the center of the table and waved them all over. “Time to eat. Everyone to the table.”

Eli led them in a prayer of thanksgiving. Abby could have listened to his words all night. Eli was a true man of God—he knew where his strength came from. And what kind of man was Blake? At the amen, she glanced at him. Were those tears in his eyes? She watched him wipe them away quickly as he dug into his dinner. This was one man she did not understand—he seemed to change more than the weather and she’d only known him for one day.

“Wow. This is wonderful.” Blake had a faraway look in his eyes as he complimented her family on the house and the dinner.

“So, Blake...” Hannah started. “You’re a doctor at Fairview?”

“Yes. Well, temporarily.”

“And you’re from New York?”

“Yes.”

Eli slapped the table. “Didn’t you say the patient Hancock was from New York, too?”

Abby nodded with a smile. Her brother could barely contain himself. He was concerned for her, but he was also reliving his work as a Philadelphia police detective. It was not too long ago he’d come home on a case to help Hannah find the men that had killed her stepdaughter. In the end, he’d decided to stay and leave his Englischer life behind, but his years of training and experience as a detective were still a part of him. He let out a long sigh. “I really need to talk to McClendon.”

“Well, that’s not happening tonight,” Hannah said. “No calls in the house. Let’s just have a nice, relaxing dinner and worry about all of that tomorrow.”

Blake’s phone sounded almost simultaneously with Hannah’s reminder of the no-cell-phones rule. Blake grabbed his phone from his pocket and silenced it. “Sorry. I’ll just turn it off. I didn’t even realize how much I’m on my phone until I came here. I guess back in New York, everyone is, so no one thinks anything about it. I think tomorrow I may just leave it in my hotel room.”

“Well, not a bad idea, Dr. Jamison. We don’t use them in this house.” Hannah’s tone was kind but firm.

“Don’t feel bad,” Eli said, teasing his wife. “She asked me to get rid of my gun. A cell phone is nothing.”

Hannah waved away her husband’s words. “Speaking of your life back in New York, Dr. Jamison...you’re not married, are you?”

“No. I’m not.” Hannah’s tone had sounded a slight bit chastising. “Is that a problem?”

“Of course not,” Abby said, glaring at Hannah so that she would not continue with the same topic. “It’s just a common topic around here. With the Amish. Especially among the women.”

Hannah looked indignant. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just getting to know our guest. What brings you here to Willow Trace, Dr. Jamison?”

Blake had just shoved a large forkful of meat into his mouth and couldn’t answer.

“Blake has family here, don’t you, Blake?” Abby smiled. She’d purposely caught him off guard. Now he would have to answer what she’d been trying to figure out all day—why was Dr. Jamison at Fairview Hospital?

* * *

Blake swallowed down the lump of stew before he could answer. He’d almost rather talk about his pathetic love life than about why he was in Lancaster. “Maybe. I said that maybe I have a family connection in Lancaster.”

There was clearly another question bubbling inside of Abigail, but a knock at the door sounded before she could get it out.

Eli excused himself from the table to get the door. Hannah hopped up to take care of the dishes. Blake and Abby tried to follow but Hannah stopped them.

“Go on into the other room.” Hannah shooed them away like little flies. “Both of you. Sounds like we have visitors. I’ll see to the kitchen. Go on. Go relax and visit. You’ve both done enough today.”

Blake followed Abby into the living area, which, like the rest of the home, was tastefully but simply decorated. The walls were undecorated, simply painted a shade of light blue. All of the big windows were covered with green shades and simple white curtains. There were a few dim lamps set on handmade wooden tables. A sofa and several lightly upholstered chairs were placed about in an orderly circle.

Eli stoked the fire while his newly arrived guests sat together on the couch—a young couple holding a sleeping baby while their older child stood against his father. The boy stared wide-eyed at Blake and Abby as they entered the room.

“Mary!” Abigail rushed forward. She hugged the young mother and swept the sleeping child from her arms. “Little Levi. Oh, isn’t he just beautiful? And, Stephen, you are so grown up—sehr grose.”

The little boy straightened up from his position against his father, standing tall and proud.

“Jonathan and Mary, this is Blake Jamsion—a doctor at the hospital. Blake, this is the Zook family. Mary and I have been friends all our lives. Her parents own the bed-and-breakfast where you are staying.”

Blake shook hands with the couple, admiring their Amish dress, which matched Eli’s and Hannah’s exactly—trousers, suspenders and simply cut shirts for the men, plain blue dresses and black aprons for the women. Little Stephen wore a miniature version of the grown men’s clothing. He whispered something to his father, then took off out the front door.

“He likes to visit all of Eli’s stock. We don’t have the cattle Eli has here. He’s fascinated by it,” Jonathan explained. He had the same peculiar, square beard as Eli did, only around the jawline. No mustache. A strange and unique look. Blake couldn’t remember seeing anything like it before.

Mary’s hair, like Hannah’s, was tucked up in a white Kapp. He glanced at Abigail and her long blond braid, maybe a little glad it wasn’t hidden under a Kapp. He wondered what it might look like loose and free-flowing.

“We heard you had some trouble up at the hospital,” Jonathan said.

“Ja, you could say that.” Abby spun around with the tiny infant. “How did you hear?”

The couple explained how the news had spread from the hospital to another couple from the church to their neighbors. “We didn’t know if Eli had heard, so we thought we should come over. We knew he’d want to know about his sister. We should have figured you’d be here telling him yourself.”

“I’m glad you came. It’s good to see you and the children. Just what I needed to get my mind off this afternoon.”

Some conversation passed in Pennsylvania Dutch. Blake sat back and listened to the lilting, rolling language. He didn’t know if the talk was about him or the happenings at the hospital, but either way the language relaxed him. Called to him. Could it be that Amish blood ran through his veins? If he hadn’t been put up for adoption, could he have grown up in a room like this instead of in a penthouse that overlooked Central Park?

“Well, at least you didn’t go to the bishop.” Abby broke back into English.

“Oh, but we did.” Mary smiled. “We passed by there on the way here. He hadn’t heard. He is very concerned. He would have been over to see you himself if he had not already had some other church business to attend to tonight. He assumed your brother would be looking after you as soon as he heard the news. But you should expect the bishop in the morning.”

“Danki.”

Even Blake could tell Abby was not happy about this news. She was not pleased that this bishop person knew her business.

“So, who is the bishop? Is he an elder of the church?” Blake asked.

Eli and Jonathan smiled at him. They looked at Abby. Everyone seemed to be holding back a laugh.

Except for Abigail. She turned, a sad frown under her big blue eyes. “The bishop is the leader of the Ordnung. The leader of the Amish church. He’s also my father.”

There was a second of silence over the room then the front door burst open like a bomb had blown it off its hinges. Little Stephen came running inside. He was pale and out of breath, and his hat was missing.

“What is it, Stephen?” his mother asked.

Her son ran into her arms, letting loose an onslaught of tears he’d bravely held back until that moment. He told his parents what had happened. Again, Blake couldn’t understand the Amish language. But he watched as the rest of the people in the room reacted grimly to the boy’s tale.

Whatever he said, it was not happy news. Several times they all looked at Abigail, who’d grown pale. As the boy finished, Abby put a hand to her head as if it ached worse than ever.

Eli stood and put a hand on his sister’s shoulder. He nodded to Jonathan, and the two men headed for the door.

“Is something wrong? Can I help?” Blake stood with the other men.

Eli turned back, his expression bleak. “Someone is in the stable. He grabbed little Stephen and told him to go back to the house. He told him to tell Miss Miller that he is watching.”