Amish Hideout (Amish Witness Protection Book 1)

by Maggie K. Black

  Then she pulled back and laid her head against his chest.

  “I really don’t want to leave,” she said. “I don’t want to leave this place. I don’t want to leave your family. I don’t want to say goodbye to you.”

  He stroked her head. “Believe me. I want us stay here every bit as much as you do.”

  She felt tears building at the corners of her eyes. “But you can come back. I can’t.”

  Slowly, gently, he wiped her tears away. “Don’t you get it? It will never be the same here without you.”

  * * *

  He took one last look around his family kitchen, feeling awkward in his civilian clothes. His gun sat heavy in its holster. He looked at the remnants of the quick meal of bread and cheese that he’d insisted Celeste try to choke down before running upstairs to get changed. He’d debated keeping them in Amish clothes until they’d made it outside Hope’s Creek. But he wasn’t about to take his family’s wagon and horses without knowing how he’d return them, and it would take about an hour to hike to where Mark had parked the truck. It would be much harder for Celeste to hike over hills in her dress, and once they were outside Amish country the clothing might bring unwanted attention. He didn’t know how long it would take until they reached somewhere she’d be able to change. If they slipped through the back door and through the forest, no one should spot two Englischers leaving an Amish farm. It wasn’t the easiest option, but it would have to do.

  He’d insisted they leave only the briefest note for his family—Sorry, we had to go. Will write when we can.—telling Celeste that his family would understand and that anything more could put all of them in danger if it ever fell into the wrong hands. She’d taken the pen from his hand and added in her own handwriting, Thank you so much for everything. Ecclesiastes 3:11.

  “It’s from a chapter of the Bible that both your father and I love,” Celeste had said. Then she’d turned away and run upstairs, though not before he could see the tears glistening in her eyes.

  A large family Bible sat on a table in the living room, its pages supple from the countless times his family’s hands had brushed over it. Part of him wanted to flip it open and read what the verse was that she’d referenced. Instead, he sat down at the table and dropped his head into his hands. He never should’ve told her how much he cared, and he really shouldn’t have let himself kiss her.

  Celeste believed that Gott called people to things. She believed Gott put dreams and desires in their hearts. Well, first the desire to go into law enforcement had burned so deeply inside him that he’d lost his family over it. And now the urging in his chest to hold Celeste in his arms again ached more than he could bear.

  The door swung open behind him. Jonathan leaped to his feet.

  “So you change back into Englisch clothes as soon as my family leaves?” It was Mark. The young man shrugged. “And you brought a gun into my family’s home.”

  Jonathan swallowed back his pride and chose to take a leap of faith and trust the young man. “I’m sorry. We’re dressed this way because we’re leaving. My boss called. Celeste has to be in court in the morning.”

  Mark’s eyes widened. “You’re leaving?”

  “Yes, and I’m not bringing Celeste back.” Jonathan’s broke Mark’s gaze. He walked over to the sink, grabbed a cloth and wiped down the table. “I will write letters to both Amos and my pa as soon as I can.”

  “I want to believe you, but I can’t.” Mark’s arms crossed. “What is so urgent that you can’t wait even a few hours to say goodbye? Tell me you didn’t come back only because you needed something and now that you don’t need us anymore, you’re leaving.”

  Jonathan opened his mouth, the desire to defend himself threatening to overpower the decision not to. The truth was far more complicated than that. He’d left because he had felt he had to. He’d longed to return for years. And, yes, Celeste had been the reason, but Mark would never know how hard it had been to walk up that front porch and knock on the door.

  Before he could speak, footsteps creaked on the stairs, followed almost immediately by Celeste’s voice. “Mark!”

  Mark’s arms unfolded. He nodded to her. “Gude mariye, I hear that you’re leaving.”

  “We are.” Celeste crossed the floor. She was dressed in her blue jeans and sweatshirt, but her hair was still tied back in a bun as it had been under her kapp. “Please tell everyone in your family goodbye from me and how very sorry we are to leave this way. Unfortunately, I have to be in court tomorrow and we couldn’t wait.”

  “I will.” The young man nodded slowly as if his brain was processing. He turned to Jonathan. “How are you going to get back to your truck?”

  “On foot.”

  “I will take you in the wagon,” Mark said. His chin rose. It wasn’t a question. “It will be much faster than walking.”

  Jonathan rocked back on his heels. On the one hand, the wagon would be much faster. But would it really be safer? Though it was clear his brother believed in Mark and trusted him, Jonathan had never found it easy to take anything on faith. Seemed he and his nephew had that in common.

  Mark cut his eyes to Jonathan as if reading the doubt in his gaze. His arms crossed.

  “I still don’t trust you, and I don’t think you trust me,” Mark said. “But my faith teaches that I have a responsibility to take care of strangers and those in need, even when it’s hard. And I know it would hurt my family if they found out I had an opportunity to help you and turned my back on you. Even if you turned your back on them”

  Then Mark turned to Celeste. Something softened in his face, and for a moment the seventeen-year-old somehow looked both very grown-up and very young.

  “My friends tell me that you are a very good person. They say you risked your life to help thousands of people who’d been robbed and stopped a very evil man. I was stubborn. I didn’t know what to think when I realized you were here with my uncle. I took one of the phones from the store so I could look you up and decide for myself. But, after praying, I decided that I didn’t need to go to the internet. I could trust my friends and my family and my faith.”

  “Thank you,” Celeste said, stepping forward before Jonathan could say anything. “I believe you and I’m thankful for your help. I’m sorry for whatever happened this morning, but I’m glad that you stayed home and that God brought you home at the exact right moment to help us.”

  Jonathan gritted his teeth. It was fine for Celeste to decide she trusted Mark or even to view what had happened that morning as part of God’s plan. But what evidence did she have really? What was it based on? The fact he’d helped her back at the store? The fact Mark’s family believed in him? The sincerity in Mark’s eyes? Despite the fact that Celeste and his father, Eli, were so very different on the surface, they both looked at the world through the same lens of faith. They both had this crystal clear belief that God talked to them and guided them. Well, he didn’t have the luxury of believing the same thing.

  His cell phone buzzed. He glanced down, and as he read the text from Karl he heard himself groan. He ran his hand over the back of his neck.

  “What’s wrong?” Celeste asked.

  “Whoever’s running Poindexter’s site has put out a call for people to patrol the roads in certain parts of Pennsylvania, including Hope’s Creek,” he said. “They’re offering double the reward for anyone who manages to spot you and stop you from making it to trial. Also, they’ve located my truck. We’re trapped.”

  FIFTEEN

  Celeste lay flat on her stomach in the back of the wagon, hidden under several layers of blankets, feeling the rock and jostle of the boards beneath her. It had taken only moments for Jonathan to decide that Mark’s offer was the best way out of Hope’s Creek undetected. He’d fired off a message to Karl and got a pickup location for a new, fresh vehicle, almost an hour out of town, while Mark got the wagon hitched and Celeste had hidden the
ir belongings in the back. The whole thing from Karl’s first text to pulling out in the wagon had taken under fifteen minutes.

  Since then, though, the minutes had stretched, long and unending, with nothing but the sound of the wind whistling in the trees, the rattle of the wheels and the clop of the horses on the road beneath them, as Mark drove the wagon slowly and steadily out of Hope’s Creek. This was probably the slowest getaway escape imaginable. The thought would’ve made her laugh if it wasn’t for the doubt and fear gnawing in her core, which seemed to intensify every time the wagon slowed or she heard someone calling out to Mark in greeting.

  Lord, I’m so scared. This is all starting to feel very real. Be with us. Calm my nerves. Help me to get to court safely. Help me to be strong on the stand.

  She felt a warm hand brushing hers in the darkness as Jonathan stretched out for her from his hiding place on the other side of the wagon. His fingers wrapped around hers, enveloping them and holding them tightly. She squeezed him back with all her might. Then she let herself relax. For some time they just lay there, side by side, their hands linked in the darkness.

  Finally, she felt the horses slow.

  “Okay, I think this is the place,” Mark said. “But it’s just an abandoned junkyard.”

  Jonathan’s hand pulled away from hers. She felt him shift his position in the back of the wagon beside her. A glimmer of sunlight slipped in through the blankets as Jonathan peered out. She moved onto her side and glanced through the gap, but saw nothing except the pale blue of sky ahead.

  “Do you see anyone?” Jonathan asked.

  “No one.” Mark’s voice filtered through the blankets from the front of the wagon. “This place is empty.”

  She heard Jonathan breathe what sounded like a prayer of relief under his breath.

  “There should be a red pickup by the back fence, with California plates and a rack on the back,” Jonathan said. “Pull up beside it.”

  “Got it,” Mark said.

  For a moment there was only the sound of the horse-drawn wagon moving over the snow. She reached out for Jonathan’s hand again but couldn’t find him. The wagon stopped. She felt the blankets move back and saw the mixture of lights and shadows shift as Jonathan crouched up. “Looks good.”

  She scooted onto her knees so she could see, then felt his firm hand on her shoulder gently pushing her back down.

  “Stay down,” he said. “Wait here. I need to check out the truck and the surroundings.”

  “Okay, be careful,” she said, but wasn’t sure he’d even heard her before he’d hopped over the side of the wagon. She lay back on the cold floor, closed her eyes and prayed. Something about Jonathan’s warm and tender touch had filled her with so much hope. Feeling him pull away made her feel like part of her was missing. She needed to get a hold of her heart. Jonathan was not a permanent fixture in her life or someone who’d always be there to help her weather the storms. No, he was leaving her life, and soon. The quicker she stood on her own two feet the better.

  “Okay, Celeste, you can come out now,” Jonathan called.

  He pulled the blankets back and grabbed their bags. She looked around. The carcasses of old and broken cars, half buried under the snow, spread out to her right. Tall fencing surrounded them on every side. She pushed the blankets off entirely and stood. Jonathan was carrying bags to the truck.

  Mark stood beside the wagon and offered her a hand down. Standing in the snow, she paused, wanting to hug him but also knowing he’d probably feel more comfortable if she didn’t.

  “I wish I could find better words to say than thank you. Danke. Thank you for everything you and your family have done for me.”

  A slightly sad but entirely genuine smile crossed his face. “You’re welcome. Safe travels.”

  “You, too,” she said. “I hope God blesses you all so much for everything you’ve done for me.”

  She felt movement behind her and turned to see Jonathan at her shoulder. He nodded to Mark and they exchanged a quick and awkward goodbye. She followed Jonathan to the truck. He unlocked the doors and they got inside. He started the engine, but she remained still, her hand on the seat belt, watching through the windshield as Mark turned the horse and wagon around, and started toward the entrance.

  “Everything okay?” Jonathan asked.

  “No...” Celeste’s voice trailed off.

  Something was wrong. Something was gnawing at the pit of her stomach hurting her with each breath, but she wasn’t sure what.

  The screech of tires filled her ears. A car, brown and streamlined, flew into the parking lot, swerving to a stop in front of Mark. The horses reared. Mark’s body jerked as he tried to steady them.

  “Get down!” Jonathan slid a protective arm around her shoulder.

  A large figure holding a gun jumped from the car and charged toward Mark. Even at a distance she couldn’t mistake his form. It was Doppel-Dex. The imposter yanked Mark down from the wagon with one hand. With the other he pressed the gun into the side of Mark’s head.

  SIXTEEN

  “You can drive this truck, right?” Jonathan grabbed her by the shoulder with one hand and turned her to face where Mark now knelt, shaking, on the ground. With the other he pressed a cell phone into her hand. “Celeste! Tell me you’re able to drive this truck and get out of here.”

  Through a junkyard, in the snow, with someone she cared about down on his knees with a criminal’s gun to his head?

  “Absolutely.” She gritted her teeth.

  “Great.” Jonathan reached for the door. “If anything happens to me, as soon as the entrance is clear, I expect you to gun it. Okay? Don’t look back. Just get as far away from here as you can and call Stacy or Karl. They’ll send someone to get you.”

  She felt the quickest brush of Jonathan’s lips over hers. Then he jumped from the truck, slammed the door and started toward where Mark now knelt. Her limbs shook as she slid her body into the driver’s seat, and she watched through the windshield, silent prayers forming on her lips, as Jonathan strode toward the gunman.

  Doppel-Dex shouted, and while she couldn’t make out the words at a distance, there was no mistaking the ugly menace of his tone. He cuffed Mark so hard across the face he nearly fell forward. The teenager’s shoulders shook. Jonathan stopped walking. His hand twitched toward his gun. Her heart stopped. Jonathan was going to shoot a man in front of his Amish nephew. It was the only way to save his life.

  But then the US marshal raised his hands high above his head. A gasp crossed her lips as she watched him toss the service weapon he’d only recently been reunited with into the snow. Could he be surrendering to the one man who’d been chasing her since the farmhouse? Was he offering up his own life to save his brother’s son? Jonathan knelt and placed his hands on his head. There was a pause, then Doppel-Dex dropped his grip on Mark’s shoulders and turned his gun on Jonathan.

  “Where. Is. She?”

  She heard that all right. Even at a distance, those three words snapped in the air like a bullet’s crack.

  But whatever Jonathan said in response was so quiet she wasn’t able to catch the sound of his voice. Mark turned and pelted toward the wagon. Doppel-Dex spun back toward him. Jonathan launched himself at him like a linebacker. The criminal’s gunfire echoed in the air above them. The horses whinnied as Mark grabbed the reins and spurred them on. The wagon clattered through the junkyard. Jonathan and Doppel-Dex wrestled for the gun. The wagon cleared the gate and disappeared down the road.

  Thank You, Gott. Celeste buckled her seat belt and gunned the engine. The truck flew forward, toward the two men and the open gate beyond. Doppel-Dex tossed Jonathan to the ground. Jonathan reared up, blocking the larger man’s blows. She breathed a prayer and yanked the steering wheel to the left, denting the corner of a wrecked hatchback as she forced the vehicle to a stop. She leaned over and shoved the door open. “Jonatha
n! Get in!”

  He jabbed a quick blow to Doppel-Dex’s face, knocking him back. Jonathan ran for the truck, scooping up something off the ground as he ran. It was his service weapon. She threw the vehicle into Drive the moment his body landed in the seat, even as he was still closing the door behind him. She aimed for the junkyard exit. Jonathan buckled his seat belt, then rolled down the window, released his weapon’s safety but didn’t let off a shot. Jonathan growled. “I don’t have a clean shot.”

  She looked up. Doppel-Dex had dived behind a pile of debris. “You want me to stop?”

  “Absolutely not,” he said. “Keep driving. I’m not going to stick around and play cat and mouse for a criminal in a junkyard. How’s Mark? Did he get away okay? I couldn’t really see where he went.”

  “He’s okay,” Celeste said. “He got away.”

  “Thank Gott.”

  Funny, the Amish word for God had been the one that had slipped from her lips, too. She reached the gate and took another glimpse at the rearview mirror. Doppel-Dex was scrambling to his car. She hit the road and turned in the opposite direction of the way she’d seen Mark go.

  “I told you to gun it and get out of here,” Jonathan said.

  “I wasn’t leaving without you!” she said. The sound of an engine gunning roared behind then. She urged the truck faster. In the rearview mirror, Doppel-Dex swerved through the gates and started after them. She fixed her eyes on the road ahead. Behind her she could hear Doppel-Dex firing. Jonathan shouted for her to stay low. The back window exploded into shards of glass. Help us, Lord! She heard the sound of Jonathan returning fire. Then, as she watched in the rearview mirror, the pursuing vehicle suddenly jolted and swerved off the road and into a ditch.