by Karen Harper
Hannah’s hand flew to cover her mouth, but her coordination was off and she hit her palm into her ice-cold nose. It stung, but not as much as knowing the supposedly kind, generous Harlan was Kevin’s killer as well as John Arrowroot’s. He might not have killed those extra people in the graveyard, but he must have put them there. Surely Amanda Stutzman—or his wife—didn’t know. But Lily, in on all that?
The shop phone rang, once, twice. “I gotta get that,” Harlan said. “Might be my wife. Told her I’d be working here late, then get right home, no Roadhouse delivery tonight. Hello?” Even louder: “Hello! No one there.”
“I swear there’s no one there in your brain half the time,” Lily started in again.
“Speaking of my wife—you’re a worse henpecker than she is! You oughta show a little gratitude I got rid of Ray-Lynn and shut up Hannah Esh for you. They’ve both been trouble, even if in different ways. Here I drove Ray-Lynn’s van out and hid it on a dirt lane, had to hike back to get my truck at the Roadhouse in the snow and cold, then get her van all set so I could push it off. Just lucky it was a back country road where no one came along. A big gamble—and you know all about big-stakes gambling. So I got rid of your competition with the sheriff as a special favor, and don’t you forget it, just like I got rid of that sharp little Amish cookie who would have tracked us both down, give her time with that FBI guy.”
“But you screwed that up, too. I only okayed your slitting Hannah Esh’s screen and leaving that feather to make them suspect John Arrowroot. Fine that you took him and made him look guilty, but it didn’t end things, did it? As for Ray-Lynn, I’m not rid of her. As a matter of fact, Jack Freeman seems to be spending day and night at her bedside!”
“Good. Gets him out of here. And I should’ve gotten rid of the FBI guy instead of just knocking him out, but I didn’t need swarms of them rushing in here.”
“You’re supposed to be taking orders from Trenton through me. I didn’t ask to have Ray-Lynn hurt. Seeing if I could break her and the sheriff up was just a diversion while I was here. She can have Jack and that two-bit restaurant. But you’ve run amok. Planting Trenton’s enemies in the Amish graves was my idea, but that’s all you were supposed to do. Trenton Davis told you to keep your nose clean, not to clean things up by putting people on ice—literally.”
“Tell him I want my pay, and I want both of the special deliveries in my freezer planted in one of his other drop spots, a nice rural cemetery somewhere else, as far from here as he can get them! I’ll move out west, in case he needs me to clean up other problems, like I said, but that’s it. I’m done here!”
“You very well may be.”
“Call him, smart mouth! You call him all the time, anyway. If he really cared for you, you think he’d send you here to Podunk to keep an eye on things for a while?”
“Keep an eye on you, after you shot up those kids, and then you go kill-crazy! It reflects on me, too, you know!”
“I can’t wait to blow this place for good, leave my wife with my sister for all I care. I liked the way I was treated in Vegas. Mr. Davis took care of everything—even you, till he got tired of you!”
There was a crack—maybe a slap. A single gunshot? Their voices had been fading so maybe they went outside. But what if both of them came in here?
Hannah jumped down from the carton to scramble back on the shelf, but when her feet hit the concrete floor, she realized too late they’d gone numb. She tripped and stumbled, sprawling, hitting her head on a metal shelf. She lay on the floor for a moment, flat on her stomach, stunned by the blow, by what she’d heard. Dizzy. She was dizzy, floating, back in the dark maze with Linc again, trapped…no, she was careering down the old mill chute holding on to Seth…spinning into the cold, cold fear that she now knew who the killer was and who had pulled his strings for money, a new truck, an early retirement…and she would never live to tell anyone. She’d end up wrapped in plastic and put in someone else’s grave somewhere when she wanted to sing…to love…to live....
She turned over on her back and smiled. The snow under her, around her, falling from the sky was lovely. She was making snow angels with Sarah and Ella, while Seth pelted them with snowballs, so happy in the cold....
Ray-Lynn was awake when the sheriff came into her hospital room. His name, the nurse had said, was Jack Freeman, Eden County’s sheriff. Yes, Ray-Lynn remembered his name now and meeting him when she came out of the Citizens Bank where she’d gone to apply for a loan. It encouraged her to know she was remembering the names of places, now recalled this handsome man, too.
“How you feeling, Ray-Lynn?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the chair beside her bed, not touching her this time. He kept rotating his big-brimmed hat in his hands between his splayed knees as he leaned toward her. “I’ve been in the hospital chapel praying, and I fell asleep. Thought I’d stop by before I head back to Homestead. Got a lot to do, make my rounds, check my phone messages—I’ll keep an eye on the Dutch Farm Table, too.”
“Thank you. I’m very excited about getting it up and running. Homestead needs a well-run, ‘down-home’ restaurant.”
She thought she’d said something nice, but he looked so sad.
“Sure we do—also need you back.”
“My next step is to move out of that mobile home and into a nice house, but first things first.”
“That’s for sure,” he said, but his voice caught, almost as if he’d cry. He stood, looking down at her.
“I was afraid at first,” she told him, “when I saw you sitting there I’d done something wrong, Sheriff.”
“Call me Jack, okay?”
“Sure. Of course.”
“No, you didn’t do anything wrong, Ray-Lynn, but someone else did. Now don’t you worry about a thing and just know you’ve got a good friend here and waiting for you at home.”
She looked up into his intense brown eyes, and something sparked between them. The look lasted for a moment too long, and yet it was comforting and exciting. Was she crazy? He said his goodbyes, told her he’d be back and bring some Amish women to sit with her when she wasn’t sleeping so much. His words went past her as she tried hard to recall if she should remember more about him—about them.
She saw him stop at her door and punch some buttons on his cell phone. He looked at his little screen, and she heard him mutter something so low she couldn’t catch the words. Then he leaped to action, careered around the corner, and she could hear him actually running down the quiet hospital hall.
Seth reined Blaze in half a field away from Harlan Kenton’s meat market, got out and pulled the horse and buggy off the road, way into the barren field where headlights on the road wouldn’t spot them. He tied Blaze to an old fence post. She was exhausted, wheezing, and he needed to approach quietly. When Harlan had answered the phone here, something had told him not to give himself away. Even if he had caller ID, Seth was using the pay phone in front of the bank.
He was tired, too, running on panic and fear, but still running. He was glad the field was frozen since that made sprinting toward the meat market easier. He had tried to think what was in his buggy to use to protect himself if need be. Nothing, really. A buggy whip against that big man? His tape measure? No, but he might use a lure or distraction. He’d grabbed the folder with all the supply and price estimates in it, some of the basic sketches and layout of Troyer’s mill. The man might be a big bruiser but he was going to answer Seth’s questions, or else—or else what, he wasn’t sure.
But as he approached the meat market, he had to throw himself flat on the ground. There was a second vehicle there beside Harlan’s truck, a car backing out. Not the one he’d seen the Detroit men in. Much smaller, low-slung—and red. Lily Freeman’s?
Its headlights swung over him, past him, as the car turned out onto the road and roared away. The door to the market opened, and Harlan’s bulky form was silhouetted for a second as he carried a small box out and put it in the front seat of his truck, then headed back inside.
Now or never, before he locked up and drove away.
Cutting from the field into the parking lot, Seth called out, “Hey, Harlan. It’s Seth Lantz. I was coming out to see you with some good news, but my horse threw a shoe, and I had to walk a ways.”
“Be glad to give you a ride back to town if you need to get a blacksmith. So what’s the good news this time of night?”
“I’ve got some specs to show you about your deli space for the mill renovation,” he rushed on, holding up his sheaf of papers. “Can I come in for a minute? Wait till you see these plans. I’ve been at the sawmill all day working on them.”
“Well, I gotta get home. I’m late for dinner already.”
In the reflected light from the store, Seth could see Harlan had a huge black eye forming up—fresh. Would Hannah have struck him? More likely Lily, but that meant they had something going on between them, and it sure wasn’t a secret love affair, not between her and Harlan.
Seth could sense that the big guy didn’t want him to come into the store. More than once his eyes darted to the door. Seth had to get in there, look around. His blood pounded so hard in his head that, years of Amish training aside, he almost leaped at the man.
Instead, he surprised him by pushing past him into the store. Seth shoved the door into him, slammed it and locked from within.
He knew Harlan must have another key, so he looked around schnell for something to jam the dead-bolt lock he shot closed. One of the carving knives in the rack on the wall? He heard Harlan roar in anger outside, then start cursing. He yanked the door handle, which rattled and shuddered. Tossing his papers on the counter, Seth grabbed a long, thin metal rasp used to sharpen knives and jammed it there.
“Hannah! Hannah, you here?” he shouted.
No sound inside, but pounding on the door outside. Could he have locked him out without a key? There was a ring of them on the counter. But nothing else in here looked out of place. He raced into Harlan’s small office. Looked behind and under the counter, picked up a phone lying there to try to call the sheriff again. He punched in the numbers and, despite Harlan’s noise, heard Jack Freeman answer. “Harlan, that you? Caller ID says—”
“It’s Seth at Harlan’s meat store! I think he took Hannah, might have her here. I’m locked inside but he’s trying to get in and—”
He thought the sheriff shouted, “I’m ten minutes out!” but he wasn’t sure because the front window shattered; a big rock slammed through it, spewing broken glass onto the floor. Still cursing, Harlan vaulted in. The big man looked enraged, out of control. Was that how he’d been the night he shot at the goth kids?
The meat freezer? His only chance!
He ran for it, opened it. The light was on inside. He tried to pull the door shut, but Harlan leaped at him, stuck his arm in the door. Seth slammed it, anyway, once, twice. Harlan howled, while Seth shoved his hand out, shut the door, braced himself to hold it shut. Looked like it didn’t lock from this side. At least a broken wrist or hand would slow the man down. In a moment’s silence, Seth lifted box after box to make a barrier in the doorway, then saw another box across the way under the air vent, went to get it—Hannah! Hannah on her back, not moving!
He knelt and cradled her, so cold. But alive. He held her closer, trying to warm her, chaffing her hands more desperately than he had above the ravine when they’d hauled up the unconscious Ray-Lynn. He tore off his coat, wrapped her in it. Her eyelids flickered. She slitted them open, blinked off what looked like frost.
“Hannah! Hannah, it’s Seth, sweetheart. Hannah, wake up. I’m going to get you warm, keep you warm forever, I swear it.”
He carried her down a narrow aisle between shelves and leaned her in the corner. He stood in front of her as Harlan opened the freezer door, then—from the sound of it—shoved and toppled the boxes out of his path. Praying he didn’t have a gun, Seth knew he’d get one chance to hit him with something, and lifted a package of what looked to be a frozen roast he could heave at him. Do no harm…violence is not our way…turn the other cheek. The words darted through his head.
Harlan roared, “Now you’re both gonna freeze and end up in someone else’s grave somewhere! You and your horse and buggy just gonna disappear!”
Seth shouted back, “I’m glad you got the door open and broke the window out, too! That makes it easier to hear the sheriff’s siren getting closer! I called him. He knows all about you, Harlan. Better get running, if you can! Hear the siren?”
It was true. The distant shrill sound came louder, closer. Hefting the roast, in case Harlan came at them, Seth blinked back tears of relief and joy as he heard Harlan turn and run, cursing, falling over boxes in his scramble toward the door.
Harlan slammed it after him, muting all outside sounds.
“I didn’t tell the sheriff we were in the freezer,” he told Hannah as he picked her up in his arms again. “And I’ll bet this phone won’t work in here.”
Her lips were so stiff that he had to interpret what she said. “When the sheriff—comes in…store—get on box an’ yell—through air duct. That’s how I heard all—what Harlan did—an’ Lily.”
He did as she said, standing on the box, but it took a while for the sheriff to come in, hopefully because he was arresting Harlan. Seth almost didn’t mind the wait, because Hannah was alive and seemed to be thawing out fast, despite murmuring about three-legged races and snow angels.
Finally, the sheriff heard Seth’s shouting and banging and opened the freezer door.
“Thank God you two are all right!” he said as Seth stood there with Hannah in his arms, and the sheriff led them quickly out of the freezer. “His hand and wrist are broken but I cuffed him, anyway. He’s in the cruiser, but I’ll bet he didn’t act alone, did he? Soon as I lock him up and read him his rights, I’m gonna go make a call on Elaine Carson!”
Hannah shook her head against Seth’s shoulder. Love was blind, she thought, even a former, deserted love. “Sorry, Sh-sheriff,” she said, wishing her mouth worked better. “It’s Lily. I heard them argue. The bodies in the graves—people her Las Vegas boyfriend—name’s Trenton Davis—wanted hidden. John Arrowroot’s here, too—frozen, just how Harlan meant to get rid of me. Tell Linc—that plastic around the corpses—it’s all over the place—in the freezer.”
At that, all three of them stood like frozen statues. Seth saw the shock, the pain, on Jack Freeman’s face. He hadn’t moved since Hannah had said Lily’s name.
“I’ve got to get Hannah warm,” Seth said. The wind was blowing through the broken window but it felt so much warmer here. He’d wrap her in his buggy blanket, get her home. He started for the door with her in his arms.
“Wait a sec,” the sheriff said as he went back into the freezer, then came back out and closed the door. “Arrowroot’s in there, all right, ready to be stashed in someone’s grave elsewhere. But not here. Not here. Seth, I need to make a call in to the Highway Patrol to secure this crime scene and guard my prisoner for me, ’cause I have another arrest to make. I been played for a country bumpkin—we all have. Hannah, can I call an ambulance for you?”
“I just want to go home and get a warm bath and bed,” she said. Seth thought she sounded better now, not slurring her words so much. And how much he’d like to help with that bath and bed.
While he retrieved his buggy and got the blanket, Hannah told the sheriff all that she could recall that had passed between Harlan and Lily. While they waited for help, Sheriff Freeman went back and forth to his cruiser, where he said Harlan was finally settled down to a sulk after demanding they call someone in Las Vegas named Trenton Davis to get him a good lawyer.
“More like, this Davis guy’s—evidently Lily’s lover—gonna need one himself,” the sheriff told Hannah and Seth.
Each time he returned to where Seth was holding Hannah, she resumed her story of what had happened from the time she opened the restaurant door for Harlan’s weekly meat delivery.
“Maybe you should just keep control of Harlan y
ourself and let one of the other officers arrest Lily,” Seth suggested.
“Nope. That’s one thing I absolutely gotta do myself. Seth, I’m asking you to take the assignment of keeping our heroine from being the center of any more crime scenes—got that, Hannah?”
“Yes, Sheriff. You know, that sounds like what Linc asked and I didn’t—couldn’t—do. I’m wondering whether he’ll be happy or sad all this got settled without him.”
The sheriff just gave a snort, then hurried outside when he heard the shrill of sirens. Seth decided that, though Hannah’s lips were working better, it would be a good idea to warm them. Her tightening hold on him—she’d always had a hold on him—showed that she couldn’t agree with him more.
29
THREE MONTHS LATER, in Cleveland, on Saturday, March 12, 2011, to be exact—Hannah hoped this day would be a momentous one in her life—she sat in a soundproof recording booth with earphones on so she would hear the orchestral accompaniment for her demo audition when it started. She would be singing “Wind Beneath My Wings,” the same song she had sung at Sarah’s wedding reception and two Amish weddings since. In the Home Valley Amish church she was preparing to join, she was getting to be known as the “Wedding Singer.”
It had been a hectic three and a half months since Harlan Kenton, Lily Freeman and Trenton Davis III had been arrested. Hannah would honor her people and not testify in court, but had given Linc her affidavit for the three upcoming trials. Davis was a well-to-do restaurateur in Las Vegas who just happened to be into the semilegal fifty-million-dollar prostitution business there. Linc said that operated in a legal gray area where they greased law enforcement palms, much as Trenton Davis had greased Harlan’s.
