by Marta Perry
“They’re my family.” Rachel seemed to think that explained it all, and maybe it did. Whatever her relationship with her mother, she wouldn’t lie to these people, any more than he’d lie to his own family.
“Did you tell them about the attack on you?”
“How did you find out?” She didn’t seem all that surprised that he knew.
“You weren’t at home or at the school, and your friend Ms. Baker wasn’t helpful. I went back to the house and ran into your talkative neighbor.”
“Mrs. Barton.” She sounded resigned. “Yes, she’s talkative, but she’s the kindest person—always trying to help. If they hadn’t come out when they did...”
His arms instinctively tightened around her again. At least she was here, warm and safe in his arms, and not lying in the hospital bed.
“I’ve heard the story from their perspective. Don’t you think I should hear it from you?”
“I guess so.” She stirred, glancing around at the silent animals who watched from their stalls. “If we’re going to talk, let’s get farther from the door. I don’t want to alarm anyone.”
She led the way past the double row of stalls, and Clint stayed on her heels, aware of the small door at the back he’d used when he checked out the barn.
It seemed Rachel didn’t intend to run. Instead, she pulled out a straw bale and settled on it, gesturing to him to sit next to her.
“Now, tell me about the attack.” He turned a little more toward her, propping his elbow on the stacked bales behind him. “From the beginning. The intruder wasn’t inside?”
She sighed a little, as if tired of explaining things. “No. I parked the car and started for the door. It was dark—I hadn’t left a light on. Someone must have been hidden in the shadows. I was looking over toward the Barton place when he grabbed me from behind.” She shot a look at him. “Like you did just now.”
“Sorry about that. I was afraid you’d yell your head off if I spoke. But it wasn’t me at your house.”
“I know.”
That surprised him. He’d like to think she was beginning to trust him, but he knew better. “How do you know?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure. It just... It didn’t feel like you.”
He’d like to pursue the subject, but that would be an indulgence he didn’t have time for. “Did you get any sense of him at all? Height, size, anything?”
Rachel frowned, seeming to think back through those moments. “Not much,” she admitted. “I was just too shocked. Things like this don’t happen to me. I suppose I lost a few seconds just realizing it was for real. Then I remembered my self-defense classes. Kick, bite, scream, that’s what kept going through my head.”
“It works,” he said, realizing that his hands had curled into fists. If he had his hands on the guy, he’d do some damage. “You did a good job on me, remember?”
Her lips curved. “I doubt that I hurt you, but if I did, you deserved it for scaring me like that.”
“Right, I did. So if you connected with him at all, you must have an idea how big he was. My size? Bigger?”
“He was taller than I am, but not as big as you are. Strong, but I didn’t get a size of much bulk, if you know what I mean.”
“How about what he was wearing? Did you touch his clothes?”
“Dark, I know that, because he blended into the shadows. I felt a sleeve when he held my mouth—not smooth like leather. Fabric.”
It wouldn’t lead him to the guy, but anything helped. “What about smell? Alcohol? Body odor?”
“Nothing like that.” A small shiver when through her.
His hand closed over hers without conscious intent. “It’s okay. You’re safe here, at least for now. Safer than at your own place, anyway.”
Rachel looked up at him, seeming to read something into the words. “Has something else happened there?”
He hesitated, but it was better that she hear it now rather than be surprised, especially if it made her see how serious this was. “I went back to your house early this morning, before I left the city. Someone had been in there again. This time it wasn’t a very careful search. I’m afraid you’ll find some damage. I’m sorry,” he added.
“How bad?” She seemed to steel herself for the response.
Clint remembered the signs of thoughtfulness in the decoration of that cozy, comfortable little house. He could still see her clutching that needlepoint cushion—she’d have done that herself, he supposed.
“Nothing that can’t be repaired. A couple of holes in the plaster, the stuffing pulled from some of the cushions, that sort of thing. Some touch-up paint needed here and there.”
He didn’t want to say how it had affected him—it had struck him as anger toward Rachel, almost as much as a desire to find something. Logic said it would be the same man who’d attacked her, but that sense of malice didn’t fit in with the idea of a middleman involved in industrial espionage.
Rachel rubbed her forehead. “I don’t... I still can’t take it all in. Why is someone doing this to me?”
It seemed obvious, at least to him. “They think you have what your ex took from Attwood Industrial. Or that you know where it is.”
“I don’t! How many times do I have to say it before you believe me?”
“Seems like it’s not me you have to convince.” He hesitated, but there was something else that had to be cleared up between them. “Every time I start to believe you, something happens to make me doubt again. Like that little shopping trip you made when you left school early.”
Rachel blinked, taking a moment to understand. “You mean the phone.”
“Right. The only reason you could want a burner phone is to contact your ex-husband. That doesn’t fit with the image of an innocent bystander.”
“Paul texted me and asked me to get it so we could communicate. I guess he thought someone might have been able to get access to my regular cell phone.” She gave him a quick glance. “I don’t suppose you’ll believe this, but I only wanted to be able to tell him to give up on this scheme and return what he took.”
“And did you? Tell him, I mean.” He didn’t answer the implied question as to whether he believed her.
“Yes. At least, I texted him, but he didn’t answer. And after someone grabbed me at my house...” She hesitated.
“Did he tell you to run?”
Rachel looked startled. “Paul? I told you already, I haven’t heard back from him since I left. I haven’t heard anything.” Worry set a line between her brows. “I don’t understand it. If he knew I’d been attacked, I can’t believe he’d do nothing.”
He didn’t know much about Paul, never having met him, and the picture he was getting of the man was confused, to say the least. “So you think he may not have received your text?”
“I just don’t know. I...”
“What? What is it?”
“Paul. The last time I heard from him, he wanted to meet with me at the house. But that was when I was attacked.”
It took a second to understand exactly what she meant. “Paul made an appointment to meet you at the house. And when you got there, someone attacked you.”
“Yes.” Her head came up. “It wasn’t Paul. I told you that.”
Again he was trying to measure exactly what her feelings were toward her ex-husband. “Rachel, I know you want to believe that, but can you be sure?”
He expected her to flare up at that, but she didn’t.
“You think I’m covering up for him, but I’m not. I would have known if it were Paul. But in that case, what happened to Paul? Did the other man know about the appointment, or was it a coincidence?”
Holding his opinion of Paul in reserve, he tried to consider it impartially. “He could have found out about it at Paul’s end, I suppose. This phone...has it been out of your control at any time?”
/>
“No, not a chance. I’d only had it for a few hours before that happened.”
“Then it’s not likely to have had anything to do with your phone.”
“No, it couldn’t have been.” She relaxed a little.
“I don’t like coincidences, but if the guy who attacked you had been waiting to get you alone, that might have been his first opportunity. He could have staked out the house, knowing you’d come home sometime.”
“I suppose Paul might have been delayed. If he’d arrived when the Bartons were there, he wouldn’t attempt to stop.”
Possible. Or it was possible that something had happened to prevent him from keeping his appointment with her. Or even that he’d arranged the attack.
“When you texted Paul afterward, did you let him know where you were going?”
He felt her tense at the question. “I texted him that I’d been attacked and was leaving the house. I didn’t tell him where.”
In other words, she hadn’t trusted him with that knowledge.
“Would he be likely to figure it out?”
She rubbed her arms, as if the thought chilled her. “I don’t know. I hope not. He’d be more likely to think I’d be with Lyn, probably.”
“When all this happened, it didn’t occur to you to tell me about it, I suppose.”
She just shook her head at that. He didn’t have to have it spelled out for him. Rachel didn’t trust him, not that much, anyway.
“It wasn’t that I thought you were the man.” She seemed to sense what he was thinking. “All I wanted was to get out of the way until Paul could settle this situation. Then people would leave me alone. But now you’ll take me back, won’t you?”
Clint was surprised by his own hesitation. “I don’t know.” He said the honest thing.
She was so close that he felt, as well as heard, her rapid intake of breath. “You mean you might let me stay?” Rachel turned to him, her face only inches away from his.
“This might be the safest place for you. I don’t see how anyone else would trace you here. Your connection to the Amish isn’t very well-known, is it?”
“No. That was Paul.” The shadow in her eyes was evident. “He didn’t like anything that was out of the ordinary. We had to be the typical yuppie couple, as far as he was concerned. Lyn knows, but I don’t think she’d tell you. Or anyone else.”
His lips quirked. “Your friend wouldn’t give me the time of day. As far as she’s concerned, I’m the enemy.”
Rachel studied his face. “Are you?”
“No.” Surprising himself, he touched her cheek lightly with his fingertips. Her skin was soft and smooth, seeming to warm to his touch. For a moment time seemed to stop.
With an effort, Clint got control of himself. He let his hand drop. “I don’t want to see you get hurt, Rachel. But my job is to recover the information your ex-husband stole. I’m going to take you at your word that you aren’t involved, but you have to do something for me.”
“What?” She drew back a little, her gaze wary.
“Promise me you’ll let me know if you hear from him. Are you willing to do that?”
Rachel rubbed her forehead, and he could almost imagine the thoughts going through her mind. Could she trust him? That was what it amounted to. He wanted to urge her, to make promises, but he held his peace. She’d have to decide for herself whose side she was on...whether some lingering loyalty to the man she’d once married would make her willing to be complicit in his crime.
At last she nodded. She bent, reaching under the hem of her dress, and he realized that the cell phone was tucked inside an elastic on her leg. She saw him watching, and her lips twitched.
“Haven’t you ever seen a leg holster?”
He yanked his mind away from thoughts he’d better not indulge in. “Not for a phone.”
“Ordinarily my grandparents wouldn’t have any objection to my using a cell phone. I’m not a member of the church. But since I’m wearing Amish dress, it’s important to all of us that I try to live the part.”
Rachel’s sense of ethics was a delicate one, it seemed. It was her loyalty that was causing her grief.
“How does your family feel about the whole situation? Do they get it?” Could people who seemed to live so remote from the real world possibly understand the underbelly of corporate spying?
Her smile flickered again. “Don’t underestimate anyone here. My grandfather is an Amish bishop, devoted to his faith. He’s also a wise and intelligent man who is quite well read. Very little surprises him.” She handed him the phone. “Here. I don’t know that I’m as honorable as Grossdaadi, but I’ll live up to my part of the agreement.”
He took the phone, noting down the number and checking for messages and calls. He added his cell number to the phone and handed it back.
“You can reach me at that number anytime, day or night. Call if you hear from Paul. Or if anything goes wrong.” He rose, and the movement seemed to catch her unaware.
She stood, looking up at him, seeming unconcerned by how close they stood. “I can stay here?”
“For the moment, at least.” He’d have a job to convince Logan he was doing the right thing. “I’ll have to get in touch with my office to see if anything new has turned up. I’m not leaving the area tonight, and I’ll be in touch with you again before I go.”
“I’ll be here.” She reached out, clasping his wrist in what appeared to be an unplanned movement. “Clint...thank you.”
Okay, there was only so much a man could withstand. He pulled her into his arms, putting his cheek against hers before stepping back with reluctance. “Stay safe, you hear me?”
He turned away, slipping out the back door the way he’d come and vanishing into the shadows.
* * *
RACHEL DIDN’T MOVE for several minutes. She wanted to deny how she’d felt in those moments when Clint’s arms had gone around her, but she couldn’t.
She took a deep breath and headed for the door. All right, she’d reacted. Accept it. Probably it was a natural result of the circumstances. She’d been frightened, upset and knocked out of her normal life catastrophically. And it had been such a long time since anyone had held her that way. A very long time.
A few steps away from the barn she came out of the haze that had enveloped her and saw someone leaning against the old well that had once provided water to the animals before pipes had been laid to the deeper well.
“Grossdaadi.” It took an effort to sound normal as she moved to join him. “Have you been looking for me?”
A glance at his face told her the truth. “You heard,” she said, before he could speak.
“Yah. I heard your voices and knew you’d met someone.”
He didn’t ask questions. That wasn’t his way. He just looked at you until you felt compelled to tell him. Even the things they’d promised to keep secret as children had come spilling out at Grossdaadi’s look.
“Why didn’t you come in?” She held off the inevitable with a question.
“I would have, if you’d needed help. He didn’t mean you harm, ain’t so?”
“No. It was Clint Mordan, the investigator I told you about.”
Her grandfather picked up a pebble from the ground and dropped it into the well. She felt a rush of nostalgia, remembering a long-ago summer day and her grandfather explaining that he could tell how much water was in the well by how long it took the pebble to splash. He seemed to listen for the sound, and then turned back to her.
“He certain sure found you fast.”
She wasn’t going to say how if she could help it. Just the mention of her mother’s name might cause pain. “He’s very good at his job. He’s not with the police anymore, but he and his partner run a security company that is trying to recover what Paul took.”
“Yah, I understand that.” He was
silent for a moment and then pushed himself away from the fieldstone of the well. “He wants something from you.”
Rachel tried to assemble her scattered thoughts. “Yes. Mostly to find out if Paul has been in touch with me, I think. He hasn’t,” she added hastily. “I would tell you if he had.”
“I know that.” Her grandfather touched her arm lightly, and they started slowly toward the house, side by side. “Did this man believe you?”
“Yes.” She was startled to realize that she didn’t have any doubts about it. “He had heard from my neighbor about the man who attacked me, and I think he also wanted to be sure I was safe.”
“Gut. He doesn’t want to take you away from us, does he?” His disapproval of that idea was plain in his voice.
“No, at least, not right now. He said he thought this was the safest place for me. But...”
He just waited for her to continue.
Rachel forced herself to accept the duty she’d hoped to escape. “Much as I would rather stay here, I won’t put all of you in danger. And if there was a way I could get Paul to come to his senses, I would have to do it.”
Her grandfather patted her hand. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.” They were only feet from the farmhouse now, and through the window she could see Grossmammi and Sadie moving around in the kitchen. “There is chust one thing I must ask before we go inside.”
Pausing, Rachel looked into his face, lit now by the yellow gleam from the windows.
“Do you trust this man?”
Did she trust Clint? She considered, and finally nodded. “Yes, I trust him. At least, I trust that he’s an honest man who’s doing his duty.”
Her grandfather gave his characteristic short nod. “Gut. Then he is wilkom here.” His eyes crinkled. “Tell him next time he doesn’t need to komm to the back door of the barn.”
An unexpected laugh bubbled up in her. “All right. I’ll tell him.”
And if Clint did come openly to the farm...well, she’d know a great deal about him when she saw how he reacted to her family. To say nothing of what they thought of him.
* * *
WHEN THEY STEPPED inside the kitchen, her grandmother was putting slices of cherry pie on the long rectangular table, while Sadie poured coffee.
