Henrietta smiled condescendingly, as though Rachel had told a mildly funny joke. “Oh, I’m not going to shoot you, dear.” Her eyes narrowed and her voice deepened. “At least it will never appear like I did.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You’re going to commit suicide, of course. By your own hand, with your own gun. Cops do it all the time. Pressures of the job, you know. I’ll tell them that I tried to stop you but you were totally depressed by the fact that Micah had rejected you. They’ll believe me. I’m a very good actress, you know. I took the same acting classes Grace did.”
“Of course.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t use that sarcastic tone of voice with me, Rachel. I don’t like it.”
“But I don’t understand, Henrietta. Why me?”
“Because Micah is in love with you, dear. I can see it in his eyes and in the way he looks at you. I know every expression, every nuance of his face. I can read him like a book. I have a Ph.D. in Micah Mattias. I’ve only misread him one time.”
“When was that?”
“I didn’t anticipate his disappearing with Bobby. I’ve been trying to find him for months now. He covered his tracks very well. But then, he would. I was proud of the way he avoided the press and everyone else—even though it was quite naughty of him to not even tell me where he was going.” Henrietta changed the gun from one hand to the other.
That was a good sign. Her arm was getting tired. Fully loaded, the Beretta weighed two and a half pounds, which didn’t sound like much until one tried to hold and point it for an extended period of time. Rachel decided she would be ready to leap the next time Henrietta traded hands. If she traded hands.
There was, in Rachel’s opinion, an excellent chance that she was not going to survive this day. Henrietta’s mental illness, or evil, or obsession, or whatever was wrong with her, made her completely unpredictable.
Again she fell back on her plan to keep Henrietta talking. Since most women loved to talk about the man they loved, she decided to go with the subject closest to Henrietta’s heart.
“When did you first meet Micah?”
“Grace kept telling me about this ballplayer.” Henrietta’s expression softened. “Finally we met. He was magnificent. I knew at that moment that we were destined to be together.”
“What’s the age difference between the two of you, anyway?”
Henrietta stiffened. “Age doesn’t matter between soul mates.”
“How old are you, fifty?”
Henrietta gasped. “That’s none of your business.”
“Sorry, but I’m pretty good at guessing people’s ages. You look like you’re at least fifteen years older than Micah.”
Henrietta’s mouth flattened. “I’m forty-one. Not that it’s any of your business. You won’t be around to tell anyone.”
Henrietta was so indignant that she didn’t hear what Rachel was hearing—which was why Rachel was baiting her, getting her angry, distracting her. Rachel heard the sound of crunching gravel outside her home.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Your phone,” his dad said.
Joe had been so involved in studying his brother and dealing with the information his brother had just revealed that he hadn’t felt the cell phone buzzing in his pocket.
He jerked it out, annoyed at the interruption but fearful that it might be Aaron calling about Bobby.
“Hello!”
“This is Grant.”
The private detective he had hired? The one Henrietta had quit paying? Why was he calling?
“What do you need, Grant? I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”
“Is Henrietta there?”
“Not at the moment. She was, though.”
“I just did something illegal.”
“What’s that?”
“I don’t have a warrant or anything, and no chance of getting one either, but I found a place near her home where I could see into her upstairs bedroom.”
“Why?”
“She’s been acting a little strange lately. Call it a hunch.”
“What did you see?”
“Pictures of you.”
“Of course you did. She was my business manager. She did PR for me.”
“Henrietta did PR for a lot of people, including Grace. Yours was the only face I saw—all over her walls. These weren’t PR photos. They were private snapshots, enlarged. Looked like she’d been snapping away for years.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“How long has Henrietta been there in Sugarcreek?”
“She arrived today. Showed up at my house a little while ago.”
“Wrong. She flew out of LA several days ago. She’s been registered at a hotel in Millersburg for a week—well before that fire I read about.”
“Before?”
“The woman is obsessed with you. I think she would do anything to get you to come back to LA.”
“You think she could have set the fire?”
“I don’t know, Micah, but there was only one other picture on the wall with yours.”
“I don’t know if I want to hear this.”
“It was a picture of that place where you’ve been staying—that Amish inn.”
Joe was afraid he knew what was coming next. “And?”
“She had slashed it to pieces.”
Joe’s heart felt as if it dropped to the floor.
“Where is she now, Joe?”
“I—I don’t know.”
“You’d better find her, fast. I’ve been suspicious of Henrietta for a while now. I think there’s something really wrong with the woman. Might be smart if you got to that lady cop the papers all say you’ve been seeing, before Henrietta does.”
Joe snapped the phone shut and looked around, wild-eyed. “Where’s Henrietta?”
“What’s wrong?” his father said.
“I don’t have time to explain.”
Darren looked at him with interest. “It was Henrietta, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“I saw her climb into a blue Mustang with that girl-cop about twenty minutes ago.”
“I have to go.” Joe rushed toward the door.
“Not without me,” his brother replied as he ran behind him.
As Joe started his truck, he called Rachel’s home. The phone rang and rang. Then he tried her cell phone. No answer there either. Sick with fear, he called Ed and alerted him as to what was happening. He sprayed gravel leaving the farm, praying that the scene he would find at Rachel’s wouldn’t be a carbon copy of what he’d stumbled upon in his own home in LA.
Rachel heard a small click as someone let themselves into the front door. She hadn’t bothered to lock it when they’d come in, so it could be anyone—and at this point, anyone would be welcome.
Except…
Anna poked her head inside the door. “Rachel? Lydia wants to know…”
Rachel groaned inwardly. Anyone except Anna.
Anna’s eyes went wide at the sight of Henrietta holding the gun on Rachel. She swallowed and bravely persevered with her task of giving Rachel the message. “Lydia says to ask you if…” Anna lost her train of thought. “Are you playing a game, Rachel?”
“No, sweetheart,” Rachel said. “This is no game. Let her go, Henrietta. She has no part in this.”
Henrietta scooted back against the head of the bed and aimed the gun at both of them. It put her about three feet farther away, which was, in some ways, a good thing. Most civilians didn’t realize that handguns were a lot harder to aim than TV shows would have them believe. An extra three feet improved Anna’s survival by a fraction.
“Who are you?” Henrietta demanded, motioning Anna into the center of the room with her gun.
“I’m Anna Troyer. Are you Rachel’s friend?”
Henrietta let out a mirthless laugh. “No, dear. I’m not Rachel’s friend. I’m Micah’s friend. A very good friend.”
Anna frowned. “Who is M
icah?”
“Joe,” Rachel said. “She’s a friend of Joe’s.”
Anna’s face cleared. “Oh. Joe’s nice.” She smiled at Henrietta as though she’d discovered a new person to love.
Rachel considered the lamp beside the bed. The base was metal and heavy. If she could get to the lamp while Henrietta was distracted by Anna, she would at least have a potential weapon in hand. She started to creep closer.
“Stay where you are.” Henrietta trained the gun on her once more. “Don’t move. I have to think.”
Rachel stopped. “You’ll never get away with it, Henrietta.”
“Is she gonna shoot us, Rachel?” Anna’s voice quavered. Rachel’s stomach turned over at the sound. No one had a sunnier disposition than Anna. No one expected the best of people as much as Anna did. No one was kinder or loved deeper. To have her beloved childlike aunt enduring a face-to-face confrontation with such evil was torture, and she was helpless to protect her.
Anna looked at Rachel for direction. “Will the bad woman get mad if I pray?”
“I don’t know.” Rachel looked straight at Henrietta. “What do you say, Henrietta? Will the bad woman get mad if Anna prays?”
“The two of you are giving me a headache. I have to think.” Henrietta rubbed her forehead with one hand. “She can pray as much as she wants. It’s not going to do her or you any good.”
“Go ahead, Anna,” Rachel said.
Henrietta exchanged hands with the gun again, but she was too far away for Rachel to take advantage of the momentary lapse.
Rachel caught Anna’s eye and nodded. “Out loud, Anna.”
“Out loud?”
“Yes, Anna.”
Anna swallowed and closed her eyes tight. “Gott, don’t let the bad woman shoot us. But if she does, make her shoot me and not Rachel. People need Rachel. People don’t need me so much.”
You have no idea, dearheart, Rachel thought. You have no idea how much we need you. She gritted her teeth. If she came out of this situation alive, she would never forgive Henrietta for putting Anna through this.
The phone began to ring on the bedside table. “Shall I get that?” Rachel asked.
“Touch it and you die,” Henrietta growled.
After four rings, the answering machine kicked on. Whoever was on the other line didn’t leave a message. A second later, the cell phone on Rachel’s dresser began to buzz. The three women waited in a frozen tableau until it stopped.
“Someone’s looking for me,” Rachel said. “You have to give this up, Henrietta. Anything you do to us will only make things worse for you.”
“I’m not giving anything up.”
“What is taking you so long?” Lydia marched into the bedroom and saw Anna and Rachel. Then she saw Henrietta sitting on the bed, holding the gun. “Oh my goodness…”
“What is this, Rachel?” Henrietta exploded. “Your home, or Grand Central Station?”
“It isn’t usually like this.” In spite of the danger of the situation, Rachel smiled inwardly at the sound of frustration in Henrietta’s voice. “I live a quiet life.”
“It’s going to get a lot quieter here in a few minutes,” Henrietta threatened.
“She wants to shoot us,” Anna confided to Lydia.
Lydia gasped and put her hand over her mouth.
“Shut up. Just shut up. All of you!” Henrietta rubbed her right temple furiously.
Good, Rachel thought. The more distractions, the better. Rachel watched her like a cat watched a mouse, ready to pounce the second she let down her guard.
And then it came. Henrietta shifted the gun to her left hand. Rachel had already noted that she was right-handed. And for one—brief—split second, Henrietta closed her eyes.
Rachel leaped, grabbing Henrietta’s weaker hand—the one holding the gun—and forced it straight up, causing it to go off. A bullet embedded itself in the ceiling.
Henrietta tried to wrench the gun down for a second shot, but Rachel slammed the woman’s hand against the sharp wooden edge of the bed’s headboard until she heard the gun clatter to the floor behind the bed.
Now this was something Rachel was trained for. There was no way she was going to get away from her now.
Unfortunately, Henrietta was wiry and stronger than her appearance would indicate. She grabbed Rachel by her wet hair and snapped her head back. Rachel gritted her teeth and ignored the pain as she grappled with the woman.
Henrietta seemed to be filled with almost superhuman strength. She hit Rachel in the face, causing her nose to explode with pain. Flashbacks of the fight that put her in the hospital came flooding back.
Still, she managed to hold on through the pain, as Henrietta’s legs thrashed wildly. Then the struggle ended abruptly, as both Anna and Lydia sat down on Henrietta’s legs.
Later, Rachel wished she’d had a picture of that moment when the fight went out of Henrietta. Rachel had one knee pinning Henrietta’s left arm to the bed. Her own left hand was clutching Henrietta’s hair, and her right hand was pressing Henrietta’s right arm against the mattress.
Lydia and Anna, their prayer kapps askew, had kept Henrietta’s legs still and were panting as if they had run a marathon.
Rachel was almost afraid to move, for fear that Henrietta would start fighting again.
The front door opened and closed. “What is going on in here?” She heard Bertha’s voice calling from the living room. “What is taking so long?”
“We’re in here, Bertha,” Rachel called, making sure she didn’t release her hold.
“I send you two in to find Lydia’s purse, and—” Bertha stopped dead in her tracks.
“There are handcuffs in my utility belt on the peg in the foyer, Bertha. Would you get them for me?”
Bertha retrieved Rachel’s handcuffs and carried them in, pinched between two fingers and held out at arm’s length, as though she might be bitten.
Rachel quickly secured Henrietta with the handcuffs and allowed herself to relax slightly. There was no way the woman could get away now.
She stood up and retied her robe while Henrietta glared at her from the bed.
Rachel gave her belt an extra-hard yank. “You messed with the wrong posse, sister.”
Anna, breathing hard, got up from the bed and stared Henrietta directly in the eye. “Boo!” she said.
Then they heard the sound of two vehicles sliding into her driveway. Her front door flew open and Joe and his brother burst in, closely followed by Ed.
The men took in the situation at a glance. Ed yanked Henrietta to her feet.
“Micah,” Henrietta pleaded, “don’t let them do this to me. I only did it for you. Everything was always for you.”
“You were Grace’s friend,” Joe said.
“But…”
Her protests rose to a wail as Ed led her out to the squad car.
“I was so afraid…” In spite of all the people still in the room, Joe pulled Rachel into his arms and began to rain kisses all over her face. “I was so afraid we would be too late.”
They were interrupted by a small voice.
“I was very brave too.” Anna sounded as though she were about to cry.
“Yes, you were!” Joe released Rachel and gathered Anna into a non-Amish type of hug. “I’m sure you were very brave.” Anna didn’t seem to mind the hug in the least.
“Actually,” Rachel said, “Anna and Lydia saved my life.”
He glanced at Bertha. “How did the three of you get here, anyway?”
“Eli’s son Adam brought us to retrieve Lydia’s purse,” Bertha said. “He dropped us off when we saw Rachel’s car here. We thought she could bring us back to the frolic.”
“Thank God you came when you did.”
“Exactly.” Bertha smiled. “Gott’s timing is always perfect.”
“It’s over, Joe.” Rachel retrieved her gun from behind the bed. “We finally know for sure who the killer is.”
A long, drawn-out sigh of relief escaped him, as
though he had been holding his breath for a very long time. “All I need now is to go get my son.”
Rachel smiled. “Well, then, go get him, Joe. We’ve missed him too!”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“I sat on the bad woman’s feet and—”
“I couldn’t have done it without you, Anna. You guys were awesome,” Rachel said as they sat together in Eli’s farmhouse. She knew that Anna would tell her part in this story over and over, just as they had heard the details of Anna’s one trip to the beach a hundred times.
Rachel didn’t mind. She was so grateful that all of them were alive.
Anna’s face was flushed and excited by her part in the capture. “And I prayed goot too.”
“I’m proud of you, Anna.”
“Anybody home?” Joe called.
He had Bobby by the hand as he entered through the kitchen door. She had never seen such a welcome sight in her life.
“Bobby!” Anna squealed.
The little boy ran to each of them in turn, giving hugs to all four women. Rachel savored the smell of his baby-fine hair and the feel of his chubby arms. She had missed this child more than she had ever dreamed possible.
“Can I see my kitty now?” Bobby asked.
Anna held out her hand. “Let’s go.”
Joe sat down at the table beside Rachel. “Did Henrietta confess to setting the fire yet?”
Lydia brought a coffeepot to the table and poured cups for Joe and Rachel.
Rachel took hers and blew on it. “Ed says she confessed to everything. She figured if your job as handyman went up in flames, you would be forced to go back to LA.”
“How was she able to walk around Sugarcreek without me seeing her? I’d have recognized her.”
“She hadn’t helped Grace become an actress for nothing. Ed found several disguises when they went to her hotel room.”
“I never suspected. Not once,” Joe said. “I saw her all the time back home. She was a little eccentric, but I never guessed there was anything wrong. I should have paid closer attention. Grace would still be alive if I had paid closer attention.”
Love Finds You in Sugarcreek, Ohio Page 27
