Finding Mercy

by Karen Harper

  Before she could turn, something huge whooshed over her head, knocking the phone from her hand. Darkness. Thrown to the ground. A knee across her legs when she tried to kick, to struggle. Trapped in this huge sack. No one to help near. She opened her eyes to realize she was wrapped in a big quilt. She screamed but was slapped across her face, right through the quilt. And then another tie, tight like the one holding her ankles and her right arm pinned awkwardly to her side, the left bent up across her chest. Another tie—a gag—was fastened around her mouth, jamming the quilt partway between her lips. She tried to protest again.

  “Shh! Or else,” someone hissed, a sound like a snake’s. Man or woman’s voice? Not sure. Footsteps. Two people or one?

  Whoever it was dragged her in the quilt, feetfirst, head down, around the barn, then uphill. Even nearly suffocated in the material with the gag across her mouth, she could tell she was being taken through her lavender beds, but for once, the smell did not comfort her as she panted for breath. She could not have a panic attack right now—could not, even though it sure was the time for one. She had to think—get away.

  On, upward. The person was panting like a dog. Woman or man? If only everyone wasn’t at the wedding. She prayed someone would see her being taken. How did her captor know she would be alone—or had she been watched all this time, just waiting for the right moment?

  But why would someone kidnap her? The other signs of being spied on—nothing foretold this. Lord, please, please help me! Why? Why me?

  But even the answer to that was not going to save her now.

  12

  WORD HAD SPREAD that Ella had gone across the field to use Sarah’s cell phone. Standing at the rear of the cluster of praying women, Ray-Lynn kept listening for the sound of sirens. Both fire and rescue squads in Eden County were volunteers, so they took a bit longer than in the big cities. Surely Ella must have called them by now, and Jack would be on his way too. Ray-Lynn had taught her to use a cell phone, but what if Sarah’s was different or Jack’s receptionist wasn’t right at her desk when the call came in?

  Ray-Lynn longed to comfort Sarah, but at least her mother and others she’d been estranged from were with her now. Of the many Amish women Ray-Lynn called her friends, Sarah and Hannah were the closest to her. Yet since their developing relationships were part of her memory loss, Hannah and Sarah had both explained how Ray-Lynn had encouraged Sarah to follow her dream to paint Amish scenes.

  Ray-Lynn had been at Sarah and Nate’s wedding too. She and Jack had been guests in their home. Since Sarah was shunned for leaving the Amish and wedding a worldly man, Ray-Lynn and Hannah had been the only two area residents who knew she was pregnant. They hadn’t even told Ella, because she’d been so much against her friend’s leaving the Amish. How Sarah had hoped, when she bore her child, that it would build a bridge back to her family and friends she missed so much.

  Ray-Lynn startled when her cell phone sounded. She backed away and took the call before her voice mail kicked in. What if it was Jack calling to find out how Sarah was doing after Ella’s 9-1-1 call?

  “Ray-Lynn here!” she said, moving away from the women but speaking quietly.

  “I need to talk to Andrew Lantz.” It was a man’s voice, but strange. Flat, tinny, like it was recorded.

  “Who shall I tell him is calling, and how did you get my number?” she asked, craning her neck. She wished now she’d paid extra for caller ID, but she’d never needed it in Amish country.

  She could see Andrew, pacing the yard, shading his eyes and looking across the field toward the Lantzes’ house. A lot of the men had come outside too, as word about Sarah spread. Andrew was separate from the others who were milling around and whispering, but then he stood out to her as different anyway. She intended to ask Jack about that. Andrew couldn’t be an imposter, could he, or some journalist or author who had wormed his way in here?

  “I need to talk to Andrew Lantz,” the voice repeated.

  “Just a moment,” she said, frowning. At a quick clip, she walked toward Andrew, even as the voice repeated again: “I need to talk to Andrew Lantz.”

  * * *

  Alex saw Ray-Lynn approaching, just when he was about to have a panic attack of his own. He’d been told that Ella went across the field to use her friend Sarah’s cell phone to call for help, but he figured she should be back by now. And the emergency squad should be here, the sheriff or his deputy at least. Alex was going to go across the field to the house to look for Ella, so he didn’t need more questions from Ray-Lynn. Maybe Ella had had another panic attack. And why hadn’t they just asked her to call from here on Ray-Lynn’s phone to get help for Sarah when she became ill?

  “This call is for you!” Ray-Lynn told him with a puzzled look on her face. She held the cell phone out, stiff-armed.

  His insides flip-flopped. “For me? Andrew Lantz?”

  “If that’s your name, it’s for you. Don’t know who it is.”

  “Maybe Ella.”

  She shook her head. “A man.”

  “Thanks,” he said, took the phone and walked away from her. Gerald Branin wouldn’t call him through her, would he? Certainly his lawyer would contact him through Branin or the sheriff, not through the sheriff’s very talkative girlfriend. Maybe the trial date had been moved up.

  His stomach in knots, he said, “This is Andrew Lantz.”

  “Never mind who this is and tell no one. I have Ella. If you want her returned alive, leave the Lantz house alone after dark and start walking north on Oakridge toward County Line Road. Tell her family Ella said she needed time alone, you don’t know where. We need to talk before she’s freed.”

  “Listen, she has nothing to do with this. Let her come back now, and I’ll leave here, walk like you said and th—”

  “Never mind who this is and tell no one. I have Ella. If you want her returned alive—”

  Alex swore.

  “Never mind who this is, and tell—”

  A damned recording, voice-reactivated. He was so freaked he could have thrown Ray-Lynn’s phone down and stamped on it. He couldn’t believe it had come to this, not Ella, not in Amish country! Despite someone trying to scare her, things had seemed so safe and serene—at least he had desperately wanted that. Now his enemies were using her to get him. They’d found him—that must be it—found him again. And when he walked down that road, and they took him or shot him, would they even give her back? What if she could ID them? Hit men didn’t take captives. Was she even alive now?

  He broke out in a sweat. His heart nearly beat out of his chest. He had to find her, fast. What was the common denominator, the link between Atlanta and here? Why didn’t this bastard target him directly without using her, harming her? Not Ella!

  He jerked around when someone touched his arm. Ray-Lynn, frowning, worried too. “Who is it? That voice—like a robot.”

  “A bad joke,” he told her. “How they got your cell number, I don’t know. Some Pennsylvania buddies of mine in their rumspringa,” he said, hoping his voice wasn’t shaking like his insides were. “My younger brother’s friends from home, probably on a dare.” He was lying, but he had learned that from a master. All those years Marv led them all on at SkyBound.... “Thanks, Ray-Lynn. I’m sure there’s no problem, but I’m going to go see what’s keeping Ella. How about you try the sheriff, be sure she made the E.R. call.” He realized too late he’d defaulted into executive mode and abandoned the aw-shucks attitude he’d tried earlier on her, but she probably just thought she was right about him once living in the world.

  As he jogged away and then broke into a run through the field where Ella must have gone, he realized what Ray-Lynn or anyone else thought didn’t matter. Finding Ella did. With all the weird things that had happened to her—and her cape—he felt frantic. He feared he wasn’t going to find her and he’d have to do what the caller said to save her—sacrifice himself.

  * * *

  On and upward, her captor dragged Ella. She could not fight back, but
she fought her growing fears. No panic attack! she told herself. Breathe, just breathe. Calm down. If he was going to kill her, he would have done it already—wouldn’t he? Hopefully, he hadn’t let her see his face, so she could be released without describing him. He had disguised his voice and said next to nothing, so she could not place that later either.

  But that all meant something dreadful too. Surely, this man didn’t think her family could pay a ransom. His target must be Alex/Andrew. He had been tracked down. Daad was sure something terrible had happened to their guest before and now it could again. Was she to be the bait? Did this man think Andrew would come looking for her, and he’d hurt him then? Her captor could have a gun. He already had the advantage of this high hill with a vantage point to shoot someone.

  She almost wished he carried her, not dragged her, or at least pulled her headfirst. Thank the Lord, she was being hauled over grass, though the quilt was little protection from bumps and bruises. Nor did she have her bonnet on for protection. Her hairpins had yanked her braids loose. If she could only get her prayer kapp off to leave a clue—but then she didn’t want Andrew following her trail. She prayed he would not see the drag marks in the grass. Was that the plan, to get him climbing the hill in the open so he could be shot?

  She tried to think clearly but terror scrambled her thoughts. No panic attack yet but battered by this man’s attacks on her. Dizzy…her head hurt… She kept seeing the black van dragging her cape…the tattered remnants of it nailed to the door over the disfigured scarecrow and lavender cross. This quilt, maybe snatched off a nearby clothesline. No, she recognized it now, an old one they kept in the barn for an extra lap robe. This man had been in their barn, maybe taken the telescope, who knows what else? A crazy quilt pattern…her life so crazy since Andrew came. If he was this man’s target, she had to find a way to help him now. She had to get herself out of this.

  Finally, they must have arrived at the top of the hill. The steep grade leveled out. He stopped and dropped her feet. She lay there, panting through her gag, afraid to move. Her captor kept silent, but she heard him move a few steps away. At least she was not being assaulted—not now—but she didn’t think this was about rape, because he could have taken her into the barn. He must have known everyone was at the wedding. He’d been lurking, just waiting for a chance to snatch her. In her rush to help Sarah, she’d given that to him.

  When her own breathing quieted, her ears were ringing, or could that be the buzz of Daad’s beehives nearby? That must be where they were, near the hives at the top of the hill where no one could spot them from the bottom. She must be fairly close to one of the sinkholes that opened up to a steep ravine. If he dropped her in it, she’d die for sure, and they might not find her for days—ever, if wild animals found her first.

  Did she dare to move, to see if she could get the gag out of her mouth that made her feel she was going to throw up all that good wedding food? Whether he was watching or not, she had no choice but to try. At least her left arm had not been pinned full length against her like her right one, tied tight over the wrapped quilt. Her elbows and shoulders hurt; the back of her head ached. She fought the dizziness to make herself think.

  Slowly, carefully she tried to expel the quilt gag from her mouth. It seemed impossible, but she used her tongue and lips, while inching her left arm upward. She prayed the left side of her body was away from where her captor had walked. Was he looking down the hill at the wedding? Could he see the women tending to Sarah?

  A horrid thought hit her like a punch to her belly. Oh, no. Oh, no! He had grabbed her just as she’d started to call 9-1-1! No help was coming for her friend and her baby could die! And, if she herself wasn’t careful, wasn’t clever, she could die too.

  * * *

  Alex saw Ella nowhere around the parked, unlocked van, nor in it. He even popped the back hatch from inside. Nothing there but artist’s supplies.

  Still out of breath, he ran toward the house. It was locked, but he knew where they kept the key. He opened the door with it and stuck his head in. “Ella! Ella!”

  From the counter, he took her key to the smaller house, ran to it, opened the back door and yelled. Nothing, no one. His gut told him it was a waste of time to search inside. Her abductor would not keep her here. He tore toward the barn and saw, under Sarah’s van, the cell phone Ella must have used because no one else around here had one, as far as he knew. Still, Aaron had told him on the sly that some of his buddies had ones they’d bought, even before their running-around time began.

  He turned the cell on, checked recently made calls. No 9-1-1. He punched those numbers in. When he told the sheriff’s dispatcher about the need for a squad next door, it took everything in his power not to scream for help for Ella. “We got that, thanks,” she told him. “Ray-Lynn Logan called for one, and it’s on the way.”

  He turned the phone off, wishing he could dare to ask for the sheriff’s help, but he was coming to trust no one. How had his enemies found him here? Unless Ella had a stalker, he was blaming himself. He was the serpent in the Garden of Eden County. He’d tempted Ella, fallen for her fast. Someone must have observed that, decided to use her. Whoever had been watching her could have been watching him first, waiting for a chance to get rid of him.

  Alex had no doubt that, if he followed directions and walked those dark roads tonight, he would disappear or end up dead. Eben Lantz had told him about hit men burying victims in other people’s graves around here—that could easily be his fate. So he would expel himself from the Garden of Eden after he found and freed Ella.

  But found her how? He’d be a sitting duck on that dark road. Here he’d been a situation analysis expert at SkyBound, a go-to guy for any crisis involving setting goals, psyching out competitors—and he had no damn clue who to blame or what to do here. But he did know that nothing mattered but saving Ella.

  The barn door squeaked as he opened it and stepped into the dim, coolness. “Ella?” he cried, but only the owl that lived in the rafters answered, “Whoo-whoo.”

  * * *

  Ella froze when she heard footsteps coming close. Her captor loosed the tie that was her gag but gave her a little slap across her face through the quilt with a “Shh!”

  He was giving her a break, but she was not to talk. No one would hear her up here if she screamed anyway. Only trees and Daad’s bees. Only trees and Daad’s bees repeated in her brain. If this man walked away or night fell, could she somehow get free by using trees or the bees?

  Maybe she could find a rough-barked branch and saw through her ties, but that seemed far-fetched. If only she was closer to Daad’s beehives without that sinkhole in between, she could try to roll or scoot over there. If it was still there, he kept an old metal fishing tackle box with some tools in it, including the serrated kitchen knife he used to uncap the honey cells. He’d told her once when she watched him gather honey here several years ago that worldly beekeepers used electric heated knives, but his old knife worked just as well.

  The ties on her ankles felt so tight, and her right arm was totally trapped and going numb. She had not managed to free her left hand all the way—if she could only pop her elbow free, that tie would go slack, but she was afraid to move too much. Breathing was easier at least. The quilt had been tattered in places. If her captor bent close over her, maybe she could catch a glimpse of him without his realizing it.

  How much time passed, she wasn’t sure. Minutes? An hour? Two? Had she heard a distant siren from the direction of the Esh farm? Please, Lord, let someone have called for help for Sarah. She prayed for her friend and her unborn baby, for herself, for Andrew/Alex, in case he was the real target.

  Footsteps came closer again. The man retied her gag, but not as tight as before. He pulled her backward, sat her up against a tree and then walked quickly away. If she was oriented correctly, he was heading down the back of the hill, not the side that led to her lavender field and the farm. It was a shorter, less steep walk that way. She thought she heard a
distant engine start. Unless it was a trick, he was leaving her alone up here!

  Ella strained to listen. Squirrels chattered in the trees, wind rustled the leaves, and yes, bees buzzed.

  She inched her left hand upward again, tugging harder now. It was tied between her wrist and bent elbow, but—no, she couldn’t get it to her mouth to loosen the gag. But she could shake her head enough to get the top hem of the torn quilt to fall, allowing her to see.

  The summer sun was low in the sky, so it was later than she thought. She could not bear the idea of being up here in the coming darkness. Surely, when her family came home and did not find her, they would be frantic. It was about time for the evening meal they, as the groom’s family, had prepared for the wedding guests. Mamm would be upset, even angry that she was not there to help with it. Or maybe Sarah’s situation had taken everyone’s attention and disturbed their well-laid plans.

  Ella turned her head as far as she could, right and left, craning to look around. Unless her captor was hiding behind a tree or had climbed one, she was alone. Blessedly alone, but she knew he’d be back. Had he gone to harm Andrew? She had to free herself, find him, tell him he had to run, get Mr. Branin’s help, go hide somewhere else.

  And the mere thought of that hurt so much. To lose him, to send him back to the world…

  Stop it! she told herself. Just get free. Get out of here, warn Andrew—if she wasn’t already too late.

  * * *

  Alex knew he’d never get out of here or have a shot at getting Ella back if he didn’t obey orders and keep this dreadful secret from her family. Such a happy day, with their oldest son, Seth, wedding the woman he’d always loved, Ella’s dear friend Hannah. And then, even in the potential tragedy of it, a reunion between Sarah, banned from her people and her mother.

  How he’d loved his glimpse into all their lives, being a part of them even for a little while. He knew, if they learned what he intended to do, they’d try to stop him, to help him, even risking Ella, and he could not allow that. At all costs, he had to get “Ella enchanted” safe and sound and back to them. At least he’d heard a siren across the field and had seen a rescue squad turning into the Esh farm. How he wished he could call the cops, just be a normal person who needed help.