Where Shadows Meet

by Colleen Coble

  Distaste twisted his mouth. “That’s sick. How did a hate symbol become associated with peace?”

  “I don’t know, but let’s get back to the murder. It fits, Matt. Our people have been victims of misguided people for centuries. I don’t expect you to understand.”

  His hand closed on the folder. “Can I look at this stuff?”

  She didn’t want to let it go. It was the accumulation of years of searching. “Just be careful with it. Could you make copies and get it back to me tomorrow?”

  He rose with the folder in his hand. “I’ll go one better. I’ll go to the office and make copies and bring it back tonight.”

  He was more perceptive than she’d realized. And kinder than his gruff voice let on. She remembered Reece had taken credit for getting the younger man on at the sheriff’s department. “You knew Reece on the force, right? You were partners?” she asked.

  Matt went toward the door without meeting her gaze. “I knew him.”

  She caught up with him in the hall. “How well did you know him?”

  “Well enough, but that has nothing to do with the investigation.”

  Her warm feelings toward him vanished. “It might if it interferes.”

  “I’m a professional. My personal life doesn’t intrude on my job.”

  She stood her ground when he started to step past her. “If that’s true, then what are you hiding?”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “It’s not a big deal, okay? He was a foster kid that my grandmother raised. He came back to visit her sometimes, and I met him there. I was a punk kid with an attitude, and he tried to help me.” His frown deepened. “Which made it hurt all the more when he ran off with you without a word and stole my gun.”

  Hannah didn’t hide the surprise in her voice. “Trudy Beitler is your grandmother? Reece talked about her a lot. He said she was wonderful.”

  “Have you met her?”

  Hannah shook her head. “Her daughter Irene was my mother’s best friend, though.”

  “Irene’s Englisch.”

  “My mom was Englisch.”

  “You’re kidding!”

  She shook her head. “She met my dad when she was eighteen. Actually, Irene introduced them. Mamm always said he was worth more than any TV set.” She smiled at the memory. “It doesn’t happen very often. The Amish are always a little doubtful that anyone who has lived in the world can make that change, but my mom showed them.”

  “Did you ever meet my aunt Irene?”

  “She saw me in a store one day and came up to ask if I was Patty’s daughter. I didn’t know who she meant for a minute. Everyone I knew called Mamm Patricia. Irene told me about their friendship. I saw it in action a few minutes later when Mamm saw her and came to chat. Mamm was so glad to see her. She even shared some news no one else knew but me and Datt.Were you and your aunt close?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. She raised my sister, Gina, though. Your mom didn’t ever go see her?”

  So did he understand the pain of losing parents too? “Datt would have been upset with her, and Mamm never wanted to rock the boat. Her parents were dead and her only sister had moved to Maine, so there was no Englisch family left in town. My mother left that life completely behind her.”

  “Her friendship with Irene too?” Matt asked.

  “I guess so. She wasn’t part of my life growing up. Does she still live here?” Maybe she’d reach out to Irene, find out more about her mother’s life.

  “Yep. In the same house.”

  “Did you live with your grandmother instead of your aunt?” she asked, curious if he’d answer the question.

  He shrugged. “When I was eight, my dad hanged himself. My mom decided she wasn’t cut out for motherhood and vamoosed. I haven’t seen her since.” His voice crackled with hostility. “My aunt couldn’t handle a rambunctious boy.”

  Her maternal heart gave a pang. “A child should know his mother. Matt, have you learned anything about the girl in the picture?”

  He grabbed hold of the doorknob. “When have I had time to look? I’ve been chasing after your cats.” His gaze shuttered. He opened the door and exited.

  She stared after him. Why wouldn’t he help her find the child? His demeanor changed every time the subject came up.

  THE OLD PICKUP caught air over the potholes in the road. Reece forced himself to slow down. The old truck couldn’t take that much abuse. The Schwartz farm was just over the next hill, and he could barely make out its windmill from here. But his target this evening wasn’t Hannah. He pulled to the side of the road and watched the neighboring house.

  Ellen Long had to be home, because her black car was in the driveway. He’d wondered why she didn’t go to Moe Honegger’s funeral. Had she remarried? He’d never heard. A light flickered on in a downstairs room as twilight fell, additional confirmation that the woman was inside. Reece let the truck roll forward and turned in behind the Saturn.

  A dog barked at the loud screech the truck door made when he opened it, but it didn’t come to challenge him. Too bad. He was in the mood to kick something. Nothing had gone as planned so far. Hannah wasn’t staying at her family farm, and he’d lost track of her. He hoped Ellen Long might shed some light on the situation. Of course, all he really had to do was grab the kid, but it wasn’t as easy as he’d thought. Taking her from under Matt’s watchful eyes would be difficult. Besides, things weren’t quite in place. It was one thing to grab the kid and Hannah, and another thing to escape with them before Matt ran him to the ground.

  He couldn’t tell himself why it was so important that he find Hannah. After all, once he had the kid, Hannah would come to him. But his soul craved the sight of her. He’d been lonely the last five years, and not a day went by that he didn’t long for her. He saw himself in her eyes as strong and powerful. Only Hannah had ever truly loved him. She was the linchpin that kept his life together. After she left, everything had gone sour for him.

  And he’d blown it. But he’d be gentler this time. He’d keep her with him forever.

  He jogged to the side door and knocked hard. From inside he could hear the murmur of the television. He knocked again and finally heard the shuffle of feet on the floor. The white door opened, and a woman peered out. If he hadn’t known it was Ellen Long, he wouldn’t have recognized her. She wasn’t the fashion plate he remembered. Instead, she wore paint-stained sweats. A rubber band caught back her blond hair, and she wore no makeup. Her feet were bare.

  “Yes?” she said in a tone that suggested she wanted to get back to her TV.

  “Hi, Ellen, how are you?” He put on his most winning smile but also slipped his foot in the door so she couldn’t close it. It was a good thing he did. As recognition swept over her face, she tried to slam the door. “I’d like to talk to you for a minute.”

  “I have nothing to say to you,” she spat. “You left town with that little Amish tramp.”

  His muscles tensed. “Don’t talk about Hannah like that. You got what you wanted. Your husband out of the way.”

  “What good was that when you left me?” Her voice thickened with tears. “I’ve missed you, Reece. We used to have some good times.” She slumped against the doorjamb. Her hard gaze softened. “It’s been a long time. You surprised me. Want to come in?” She reached out and touched his face.

  What had he seen in this woman? He realized he’d used her, but right now she disgusted him. Being around Hannah’s purity had spoiled him for women like this. He recoiled. “I don’t think so, Ellen. Did you know Hannah was back in town? Have you seen her around?”

  Her eyes glittered, and her mouth twisted. “Can’t keep your wife under control?”

  “We’re separated,” he mumbled. “Look, just answer the question.”

  “No, I haven’t seen her.” She gave a pointed stare at his foot. “Now get your boot out of my doorway and leave me alone. Unless you want to come in after all? Just once for old times’ sake?”

  He wasn’t even tempted. Sh
e needed a lesson about respect. Reece clenched his fists and moved toward her, but a car slowed in front of the house. He glanced behind him and saw its turn signal flashing. There was no time to teach her a lesson. He sent a warning glare her way, then stomped back to his truck and accelerated away. Maybe a cruise through town would turn up some clue as to Hannah’s whereabouts.

  THIRTEEN

  “The Amish Triangle Quilt is a symbol of all that matters to the Amish: God, family, and community.”

  HANNAH SCHWARTZ,

  IN The Amish Faith Through Their Quilts

  Guilt was an uncomfortable bedfellow. Matt hadn’t been able to sleep all night. What was he going to do? The answers were no clearer when the new day got under way.

  He glanced at his daughter in the seat beside him. She was more important than anyone else in his life. How could he thrust her into such a terrible situation?

  “Why do I have to visit Grandma Trudy, Daddy? She doesn’t like me.” Caitlin kicked her feet back and forth in the seat. She looked cute in the dress she’d worn to church, a pink lacy number Gina had picked out.

  “It’s our duty, Caitlin. Duty is important. We don’t always feel like doing it, but some things we have to do anyway.”

  “I thought we were going to see Aunt Gina. I get to stay with her, don’t I? I don’t have to stay at Grandma Trudy’s?”

  “No, you don’t have to stay there.” He wasn’t keen on leaving her with Gina either. She’d stayed with him two days, then Blake had sweet-talked her home. She and Blake were likely still fighting, but at least they’d protect Caitlin. He didn’t know another place to leave her where Hannah wouldn’t stumble into seeing her.

  Matt drove out County Road 100E to the narrow lane that led to Trudy’s big farmhouse. He parked behind her old car, more rusty than blue these days. A chair with one rocker missing tilted on the porch by the fly-speckled picture window. The porch swing hung crazily at an angle. He’d fixed it last month, but it looked as though the chain had broken again and she’d hooked it up on the next link. He should probably replace all of it. The house was a never-ending money pit, but Trudy refused to move into something easier to care for in town. She wasn’t poor by any stretch of the imagination, but she hated to “waste” money on the house.

  Ajax woofed in the backseat and pawed at the door handle. “Hold on,” Matt muttered. Glancing at the house as he let the dog out, he wondered if Trudy was home. No light shone through the darkened windows. He hoped the old lady hadn’t fallen or something, though she was active and spry for seventy-two. She belonged to several clubs in town and drove herself everywhere in that old beater car.

  Ajax beat him and Caitlin to the door. The scent of last year’s roses lingered around the entry. Pressing the doorbell, he listened to it ding on the other side. There was no answer, so he dug out his key and opened the door.

  The odor of stale air and dusty carpet greeted him. “Trudy?” he called, pushing past the dog. “Stay here, Caitlin.” He didn’t want his daughter to see anything out of place, and the dog would protect her. Shards of glass from a picture frame crunched under his shoes. The frame lay faceup, the photo ripped from it. He struggled to remember what had been in it, but the memory wouldn’t surface.

  Alarm jangled along his nerves when Trudy still didn’t answer his call. He went into the living room. An upended coffee table barred his path to the living room. “Trudy?” he called again.

  He heard a soft groan, then saw the movement of a foot barely showing from behind the sofa. Moving it out of the way, he found the older woman on her stomach. He knelt and touched her shoulder. “Trudy?” She groaned again and tried to get up. “Don’t move. I’ll call an ambulance.” He fumbled to get his cell phone off his belt.

  “No, no, I’m fine,” she muttered. “Help me up, boy.” Her tone was sharp and peremptory. She got to her hands and feet and shook her head as though to clear it.

  He grabbed her arm and helped her to her feet. She was a large woman, nearly six feet tall and normally as straight and erect as a general. And just as used to being obeyed. A goose egg was forming on her forehead, red and oozing with blood. She swayed where she stood, and he helped her to the sofa.

  She flinched when he touched her head. “Leave it, Matthew. I’m fine.” She managed a smile. “Decided you’d been neglecting the old lady a bit? A visit twice in one week. Guilt is a wasted emotion. Get over it.”

  A strange remark from her when she was such a master at inducing it. “Who did this?”

  She waved her hand. Her face was already beginning to regain its color. “Kids looking for drugs, I expect.”

  “You didn’t see anyone?”

  “Just a noise, and I went to investigate and slipped. Guess I hit my head in the fall.”

  He curled his fingers into his palms. “I’ll see what I can find. We need to call in backup.”

  “I don’t want a bunch of lawmen running around my house.” She smiled up at him. “Present company excluded, of course.” Her color was coming back. “Quit fussing—I’m fine. I’m not filing a complaint. What have you been up to?”

  “Hang on, let me get Caitlin.” He went to the door and called his daughter inside. She had her head down and wouldn’t look at him. “Say hello to your grandmother,” he whispered. “Be nice.”

  Her steps dragged, but she went ahead of him into the living room. “Hi, Grandma.”

  Trudy’s gaze went to the backpack Caitlin carried. “Are you planning on staying, child?”

  “No, she’s spending a few days with Gina. I didn’t realize she had it with her.” He glanced down at Caitlin. “You can put that back, princess.”

  Caitlin smiled and went back outside, and Matt knew she’d brought it so she could take it out. It was hard being under Trudy’s stern stare—he should know. Still, the woman meant well. She’d taught him discipline, and he was thankful for that.

  “Let me take you to the doctor, Trudy. You might need stitches.”

  “I’ll put a comfrey compress on it. I’m fine. Why is she staying with Gina?” Trudy asked as soon as the screen door slammed.

  He couldn’t tell anyone the full story—especially not Trudy. “I’m going to be working a lot of hours, and it seems easier.” The lie rolled off his tongue too easily, but he wasn’t about to tell Trudy that Caitlin might be Hannah’s daughter. “Want me to fix you some tea?”

  She ignored his offer. “Why are you working so many hours? What will you be doing?”

  “Searching for the person who killed Moe Honegger.” Her gaze sharpened when he said the name. “Have you thought of any new details? You didn’t mention the other day whether you knew him or not.”

  “It’s pretty hard not to. I’ve bought all my flowers and plants at the greenhouse for years.”

  “I hear you knew the Schwartzes. At least Hannah’s mom.” Trudy hadn’t attended the funeral, he remembered. But then, why would she go? Their contact had been broken decades ago.

  “Again, I frequent the greenhouse. But where did you hear I knew Patricia?”

  “Hannah Schwartz told me.”

  Her hand stopped its movement, then continued when Ajax whined outside the front door. “You mean Hannah O’Connor. Where’d you see her?”

  “She’s here in town. She and Reece are separated.”

  “Have you seen Reece?”

  She had a blind spot where Reece was concerned. In her mind he could do no wrong. It wasn’t Matt’s place to spoil her fantasy, though. “He’s here too. Somewhere around.”

  “Maybe he’ll stop and see me. I’ve seen her picture. She looks like a sweet girl.”

  “How did you know Patricia?”

  “She was at the house to see Irene all the time.”

  “What was she like?” Maybe if he understood the dynamics more, he’d be better able to figure this out.

  Trudy touched the swelling goose egg on her forehead. “Pretty. Vivacious. All the boys liked her. But once she met Abe, she wanted no one el
se.”

  “How’d she meet Abe Schwartz?”

  “He worked at your grandfather’s lumberyard, and they’d also gone to school together, back before there was a dedicated Amish school. Irene introduced him to Patricia.” She rubbed her head again. “Gina’s so busy. You can leave Caitlin with me.”

  “It’s already arranged with Gina. Besides, you said you weren’t up to taking kids anymore.”

  “I know my duty.”

  It hurt that she cared for Caitlin no more than she’d cared for Matt—out of a loveless sense of duty. It was something, but it wasn’t enough.

  “We’ve got the arrangements made, but thanks anyway. Are you sure I can’t run you to the doctor?”

  “I’m fine. Don’t be a stranger, Matthew.”

  “I won’t.” He left her with a sense of relief. Caitlin was ready to go. She hopped in and fastened her seat belt. He put Ajax in the back of the SUV.

  “How long am I staying at Aunt Gina’s?” Caitlin asked.

  “Maybe a week.” A lifetime when he craved time with her. He just had to get things sorted out with Reece and Hannah. Find some proof that Caitlin didn’t belong to them.

  ALL DAY SUNDAY Hannah moped around the house. She would have liked to attend the Amish service, but no one invited her. Maybe it was better that way. The bishop might have expected her to confess.

  On Monday Hannah found herself looking at the picture and beginning to think of the little girl as her own. Dangerous ground. But there was something in the child’s sweet gaze that drew her. If only she could talk to her aunt. She’d tried to stop by this morning, but no one was home. She’d been in town five days and still had no leads.

  She put the picture on the coffee table when she heard a knock at the door. It was probably Angie. “Don’t eat it,” she told Ajax. The dog grunted. He was pinned in place by four cats lying on top of him anyway. When Matt said he’d leave the dog with them for protection, she’d expected trouble, but Ajax was a perfect lamb.

  She went to the door just as it rang again, two impatient peals in quick succession. Angie would have called out to her. Peeking through the peephole, she saw a woman on the steps. About thirty with long raven hair and eyes as blue as a robin’s egg. The V-neck top she wore showed a long tanned throat swathed in pearls. Her expression revealed just as much irritation as her trigger finger.