by Karen Harper
With his small satchel of earthly goods at his side, huddled by the open haymow door in the barn loft, Alex kept a watch out for the dusk to turn to darkness. He waited for the Amish and his enemy, wishing he did not have to lie to the Lantzes about Ella in the note he’d left on their kitchen table. Some of it was sadly true:
Dear Lantz Family: I can never thank you and your people enough for the care and concern you have shown me. However, I think my location has been discovered and I must move on. When I told Ella this, she went off angry, but I’m sure she’ll be back soon. I hope and pray that someday I can get through my troubles, return to visit you and somehow repay your loving kindnesses.
—Andrew
He’d tried to keep the note calm and light, not to scare them and to give him time to bargain to free Ella and send her back safe to them. How he was going to do that he wasn’t sure, but he did know it could cost him his life.
13
ELLA KNEW SHE had to escape before her captor came back. Or would he return? Did he just want to get her out of the way until he could hit his target, Andrew? Had he somehow contacted Andrew to meet him? Or maybe he’d even sent Andrew a note and signed her name, for a romantic meeting. Would that mean her captor had been hiding in the barn the night she and Andrew kissed?
All she knew was that she could not stay here. She could not bear to be helpless while something terrible happened to Andrew—or rather to Alex. He was not who he pretended to be, even to her. Those good qualities she’d seen in him, the trust and sharing, the magnetic pull he exerted over her—were those real too?
She had only one chance she could think of to escape. With her left hand unable to grasp something unless she got close to it, she had to reach Daad’s tackle box and pray she’d find his old serrated knife there so she could cut herself loose. And she’d have to get there by rolling down the hill, somehow avoiding the sinkhole between her and the beehives. She might annoy the bees, but that would be nothing next to the huge drop that meant injury or death below.
She shoved away from the tree and scooted around until she thought her path downward would be right. She would roll toward the beehives, then stop herself before the drop-off—how, she wasn’t sure. Maybe by rolling at an angle, making a zigzag path downward. On the other hand, if she went too far left, she could roll all the way down and end up in the valley where she had nothing to cut herself loose.
Wishing she could breathe through her mouth, she said a quick prayer, then writhed and heaved herself over on her stomach until she began to roll.
Fast, faster—too fast! She fought to get her feet in front of her to stop her rotation. So dizzy again, her head bumping and hitting the grass. She had no choice, had to save herself, save Andrew. Had anyone missed her yet, with the chaos over Sarah? Maybe they would just think she’d gone off in a fret because she’d earlier criticized her friend for wedding a worldly man, for getting put under the bann. Maybe they thought she could not bear to see her other best friend’s joy on her wedding day when she herself had no come-calling friend, no husband, no family of her own.
She stopped her rolling, breathing hard, fearing to go on, but she had no choice. Angling herself away from the sinkhole, she started to roll again. She tried to use her elbows to control her speed, but that only made the ride bumpier. She rolled over branches, even a small rock that hurt. Again, she stopped herself and set a new path, one that could take her to the beehives. Their base would stop her rolling, but she couldn’t hit there hard. If the worker bees got agitated, they’d dive-bomb her, and she’d never fend them off.
Sweating, panting, praying, once more, she stopped, then rolled again. Oh, no! As a beehive flew by, she hit her head on its wooden base, but then kept going!
No! No, she had to stop or she’d crash into trees at the bottom of the hill. She fought to turn her body, get her legs downhill, stop the whirling....
She came to a halt and looked dazedly up into the darkening sky. The clouds, streaked red by the sunset, seemed to jump up and down, but it was her eyes, her head doing that. Moaning, she looked up the hill. She was not far past the hives. She’d have to scoot up toward them, like an inchworm. Digging her heels into the grass, balancing, she started back uphill, bending, straightening, shoving herself, careful not to roll again. At least Daad never locked that old tackle box, but what if the knife wasn’t there?
To be able to reach it with her partly free hand, Ella had to curl herself around the metal box. Lifting it a few inches, she jammed a knee between the lid and the box, forcing it farther open. Several tools in there—ya, the old kitchen knife. But she could not free her hand far enough to reach for it or grasp it.
The lid of the box flopped open. With her feet, she tipped it over, then writhed into position to grab the knife. But how to hold it, move it to cut her ties? So awkward, sawing this way, her other arm numb, her bruised body screaming…
Her left arm popped free! She yanked her gag from her mouth, then just lay there, gasping for breath, sobbing.
Stop! she told herself. Get up, get down the hill. She had to find Andrew, tell him to flee or get him in the sheriff’s protection. But then, once Andrew was safe, was gone, what if her captor came back for her? She would go crazy being afraid all the time, having to be a prisoner in her own home.
Ella cut and pulled herself completely free. And then she saw what she’d been tied with and gasped aloud. It was the silky, crimson cording, just like what the Lees wrapped their spa products in! She seized a piece of it, rolled onto her knees, then got unsteadily to her feet and, bruised all over, started down the hill.
* * *
Gazing out the haymow door, Alex knew he had to get out of here before the family came back and buggied into the barn. Maybe he could hide in a ditch down the road a ways, observe any car that came along. It was the only strategy all his agonizing had come up with so far. As dusk descended, he’d been watching the buggies from the wedding go by on the road. No doubt folks wanted to get home before dark. He pictured the Lantzes helping to clean up after the evening meal they’d provided for everyone and wished he and Ella were there to help them. He felt so conflicted, so damn confused about what to do, about everything.
Out of curiosity—he’d taken the flashlight Ella had used in the barn—he opened the trunk she’d said had been her grandfather’s and shined the beam into it. A couple of carpentry tools, a map of Florida and shells. If he got out of this alive after freeing Ella, maybe he should head south, hide out until closer to the trial, tell no one. He had most of the cash Branin had given him. He could call Logan Reese, one of his lawyers, but was that wise? Could he even trust Gerald Branin? Sheriff Freeman?
The barn owl swooped past him, a silent predator, but the flap of its wings fanned the air. A human predator was out there too, a raptor looking for its prey—him.
He closed the trunk and, with his few Amish possessions and his cash in his bag, climbed down the ladder into the dark barn. He decided to keep Ella’s flashlight. He’d left five twenty-dollar bills for the Lantzes, but he knew he’d never repay the kindness he’d experienced here.
Okay, he thought as he went out into the night and closed the door behind him, time to strategize again. He figured the reason his enemy had gone to all the trouble to take Ella captive was to force his real target away from the Amish. With the other things that had happened to her, he should have run before. It was one thing to gun down a man in a motel parking lot in Atlanta near an interstate freeway where something like that wasn’t unheard-of, but it was a real risk to kill someone in the midst of quiet Amish country.
Rather than just shoot him down here, his enemy might think it was better to remove him, then get rid of him, maybe interrogate him first about what he’d told the feds so far. Though Bishop Esh, Eben Lantz and Ella had told him crime had been creeping into Eden County, a murder here would get a lot of media attention. Anything amiss in Amish America—arrests for the lack of safety triangles on buggies, an angry Amish man
cutting off the beard of his rival—made national headlines. No way a hit man or his employer wanted that, not the murder of a star federal witness who’d already been in the headlines for whistle-blowing about economic espionage with the Chinese.
So Alex had reasoned that the brains behind the hit man would rather have him taken prisoner. That at least would give him some time to bargain for Ella’s release. If his enemies had any smarts at all, and he knew they did, they should want to release her anyway. The kidnapping of an Amish girl—no way these guys wanted the FBI in on that. That is, unless someone who used to be with the FBI wanted to worm his way back into their good graces by finding and freeing her.
Alex started toward the fence. He did not want to be a sitting duck, walking down the road, but he would not run just to save himself. Not with Ella’s safety at stake. Did her captor know that about him? Had they been followed and observed, maybe even in the barn that one time he’d kissed her? And as a result, she’d become the bait?
He ducked through the rail fence, but took one glance back at the now dark farmhouse where he’d lived so briefly, but had been given so much and had been so changed. Things he used to value, to crave, had faded in importance. He’d come to question his life of personal ambition, his professional aggression. His desires had changed....
But was that a lantern flickering in the kitchen of the house? He hadn’t heard the buggy come in, but someone could have come across the field.
He hesitated a moment. What if her family finally realized they had to look for her and came back? Could it be that Ella had been freed because his enemy was so sure Alex was doing what he’d been told? Was he even imagining that lantern light because he wanted to so desperately?
It didn’t seem to be in the kitchen anymore. Maybe the person holding it was moving around in there. He ducked back through the fence, bent low and ran toward the farmhouse.
* * *
Carrying a lantern, Ella ran upstairs to her old bedroom where she’d been sleeping lately. Her hair was loose, a mess. Aching all over, she longed to strip off her grass-stained, tattered garments and take a hot bath, but no time—no time. She was shaking, her teeth chattering. She was only going to grab a cape and bonnet, get some coins, then run out to the phone shanty and call the sheriff to report what had happened to her and have him find and protect Andrew.
The last thing she wanted to do was go out into the dark where she could be endangered again, especially if her captor found her missing, but she had to get help. Her family would be back soon, but what could they do to save Andrew? Hopefully, he had not already been contacted about her abduction or had gone to meet her captor.
She swirled the cape around her shoulders, then, under the bed, hid the piece of crimson cord she had tied around her wrist. It pointed directly to Connie Lee and her family, maybe to someone who worked for her, even to her husband. But then, spools of the expensive cord had uncoiled all over the road the night of the accident. Someone could have come along, even the next day and found some of the pretty stuff. At least the sheriff had seen it before. He’d know exactly what she was describing to him.
She froze as she heard a hall floorboard creak. But she’d locked the back door and had not heard the buggy come in. She watched in awed horror as the door she’d left ajar slowly, silently swung open.
She gasped and let out a little scream. Andrew! She flew into his arms.
“Oh, thank God, thank You, God,” he was saying, the same as her very thoughts.
He crushed her to him; she held tight. He hugged her so hard she couldn’t breathe. Her sore muscles screamed, but she only pressed closer to him.
“My fault, my fault!” he was saying, his voice choked with emotion. “What happened?”
“Someone—a man—put a quilt over my head—all of me. He tied me and took me up the hill and left me, but I got away. I’m calling the sheriff.”
As he set her back, his eyes went thoroughly over her. “You’re turning black-and-blue,” he stammered. “He didn’t—beat you or…”
“No—no. He didn’t want me, just you, I think.”
Tenderly, he stroked both her shoulders with the palms of his hands. She’d been cold, but now a heat wave hit her as his eyes traveled the length of her again. “Give me a head start before you call for help,” he said. “Since I’ve been found again, I have to run, and I don’t know who to trust. I was going to bargain with your captor, trade for you…”
“But I’m safe now. You can hide here again—”
“No! I can’t endanger you and your family further. You’ve got to go somewhere else now, so they don’t find you either. Can you ID him, or describe him?”
“He was careful about that, didn’t even use his voice except disguised. I’ll be all right, but I see—that you have to go.”
“Ella…” He kissed her, slanting his mouth hungrily against hers as if he could devour her. His cheeks were wet with tears. No, those were hers. He gave a shaky sigh and held her hard again with her head nestled under his chin. “I’ll be sure you’re safe with your family, then I have to go. But promise me you’ll make plans to go somewhere else for a while.”
And then she said words that astounded her as much as they obviously did him. “I should go with you—Alex.”
His eyes wide, he set her back at arm’s length. “The sheriff or Branin told you? Or that former FBI guy?”
“I overheard Mr. Branin talking to you outside the barn the other night.”
“Did you overhear anything else?”
“Oh, ya, I heard you give him Connie Lee’s name, and I think they’re the ones behind this.”
“You’re on your Chinese kick again.”
“But aren’t you too? It’s not just a crazy idea. Here,” she said. She pulled away and bent to retrieve and toss the piece of crimson cord at him. It landed on the foot of her bed. He picked it up and stared at it, took it closer to the lantern, looking puzzled for a moment before he nodded. Ella explained, “Connie Lee gave me a sample box of one of their spa products tied with that same thing—their so-called signature wrapping ribbon. That’s what I was tied up with, over an old quilt my captor took from the barn.”
“This is the cord that was all over the road that night. It got thrown out of Sam Lee’s car when he did.”
“Right. Alex, I can help you—help you figure out who’s behind this.”
“I trust you to be on my side, when I don’t trust anyone else. My—our enemy—has been lurking, no doubt took the telescope from the barn to keep an eye on us from the hill, when he wasn’t hiding in the barn.”
“That’s why I’m going with you.”
“Ella, I can’t take you, even if I don’t trust the authorities here to protect you!”
“Sheriff Freeman’s okay, but what’s he going to do, lock me up in his single jail cell to keep me safe? Or make me stay with Ray-Lynn, so she gets hurt with me? She’s already been beat up and nearly killed.”
He came around the bed toward her. “Don’t talk like that!”
“Andrew—Alex, I’ve escaped and ruined the plan to be your bait. So my captor, someone the Lees or your enemies hired, could be furious at me and want revenge. They could try to take me again, even if I can’t, like you said, ID him. You don’t want to be a protected prisoner here and neither do I!”
“I don’t even know where I’m going. You can’t just run off with a worldly man.”
“Then I’ll run off alone. Do you think the Amish have some kind of witness protection program?” she challenged, grabbing her bonnet and jamming it on her head. “Like what, go live with some distant cousins in Pennsylvania, where our enemy would think to look first and get some other of our people hurt? I’ll pack a few things and grab some money and clothes. I heard the buggy come in a few minutes ago. I’ll run out and tell Daad not to unhitch the horse. As soon as I find out how Sarah’s doing, he can call the sheriff while we head for a bus stop or hop a train.”
A voice from the hall
said, “I think a bus—the Pioneer Trails Bus, ya, that will be ser gut.”
Grossmamm! Andrew spun around, and Ella gasped. She couldn’t have been standing there too long, could she? The old woman moved into the doorway, blocking it.
“The what bus?” Andrew demanded. “To where?”
“The one that goes to Florida,” Grossmamm said. “You two can’t run off alone even if you’re both in danger. Ella needs a—what’s that word—a champion.”
“A chaperone?” Andrew asked. “Look, Grossmamm Ruth, you can’t—”
She propped her fists on her broad hips. “I’m the one knows all about Pinecraft, Florida, and I always wanted to see it in the summer when it’s a ghost town—folks not there, a good place to hide and be safe, ya? I came back early in a friend’s buggy, but I’m not tired now, and if you two are going to yell at each other loud, you better know someone could hear you. I’ll pack a few things, Ella too, but I’ll talk to your parents first. Andrew’s bag is already out here in the hall. I’ll tell your sister to take care of the lavender while you’re away, Ella, just that she should say you are sick and in the house to everyone. Bad to tell lies, but necessary. Right, Andrew, also known as Alex? Ya, all that will work ser gut!”
Ella and Andrew stood staring agape. The Bible said that people were sometimes visited by angels in disguise, Ella thought—but Grossmamm?
“Oh,” the old woman said, turning back in the doorway. “Ella, I know you are worried for Sarah, and I hear you comforted her and tried to help. The baby was turning inside her—got stuck against her spine, hurt her nerves. She’s in bed in her parents’ house, and her husband sent for. The medic men said bed rest, see her doctor tomorrow, because the baby’s heartbeat is strong. Hannah and Seth gone home to the Troyers for a few days before coming to stay here. Then too much of a crowded house if we’re all here anyway.”
