Plain Refuge

by Janice Kay Johnson

  The PI, at least temporarily accepting that he’d worn out his welcome, handed Onkel Samuel a business card and asked for a call if he heard from Rebecca, thanked him for his time and got back in his car. Still hovering out of sight in case he looked up at the house, she watched as he backed up a couple of times to turn around, then drove down the lane, dust rising behind him.

  Still without a glance toward the house, Onkel Samuel returned to the barn. Knees suddenly weak, Rebecca let herself sink onto the edge of the bed. Her breath came fast. Had the man been convinced? She wished she could have seen his face.

  When she thought back, she realized that Onkel Samuel hadn’t once lied. He’d never said I haven’t seen her in years or I’ve never even met her son. Would the private investigator run through the conversation in his mind as he drove, and realize there had never been a denial, only reminiscences about those long-ago visits? If so, would he dare come back?

  The panicked part of her wanted to grab Matthew and run. The more rational part asked where she would go, and how she would get there. With this investigator prowling around town, she couldn’t catch the bus here. And what if he decided to watch the farm? He might follow if Mose or Onkel Samuel set off with a woman and child in a buggy.

  And even if she succeeded in getting away, what then? She was back to the same worries about the future that had been keeping her awake nights. She had money, but it wouldn’t last forever. And going on the run would mean not enrolling Matthew in school.

  Stay, she decided, even though when she looked down, she saw that her hands shook. All she could do was hope Daniel was right, that the PI would go back to San Francisco now and tell whoever had hired him that she and Matthew weren’t here.

  Staring at the bright rectangle made by the window but not focusing on the blue sky outside, she wondered whether they would be satisfied if she mailed the ring and wallet to Tim. If she no longer had the proof that Tim had been involved in Steven’s likely fatal disappearance, would he still consider her a danger?

  Maybe not...but what about Josh? She was still a witness—and she believed Tim when he said it was Josh, always an enigma to her, who was the real threat. If Tim had been sincere when he claimed he hadn’t had anything to do with Steven’s death or the threats against her, that left Josh. Even if she relinquished the physical proof, she knew Steven wasn’t out there dodging cops and somehow enjoying his embezzled millions. And she trusted Josh considerably less than she trusted Tim.

  Besides, there was still Matthew. Tim couldn’t let his son go, not without standing up to his father in a way he’d never been able to do. Squeezing her fingers together until they were bone white, she realized how foolish she’d been to take the ring and wallet in the first place—and to succumb to the temptation to use them in a kind of blackmail.

  But I might have lost Matthew.

  And she couldn’t go back and do anything differently.

  She ached to tell someone the whole story, ask for advice. She knew who she wanted to tell, but she was too afraid to take such a risk. All the same qualms nipped at her like hovering mosquitoes. He would want her to go to the police in San Francisco, which meant Detective Estevez. If she did that, she would again be within Josh Griffen’s reach. Tim would likely be tried and convicted for, at the very least, aiding and abetting in a murder—assuming she lived long enough to testify. With Matthew’s father behind bars, Robert would gain custody if anything happened to her. No court in California would award custody to an Amish aunt and uncle over a respected, wealthy local businessman, and that was assuming her family asked for custody. Going to court wasn’t something the Amish did.

  The dilemma hadn’t changed. The wallet and the possibility of her testifying were all she had to hold off the man who had made those calls, as well as Robert’s hunger to control his grandson.

  Gradually, she succeeded in calming herself. She needed to help start dinner. She could let herself believe that she and Matthew were safe here now. It made sense to stay cautious, yes. But living in fear wouldn’t keep them any safer.

  And it would be best if Sheriff Byler didn’t drive out here again. If anyone was watching, that would only draw attention. If she was going to keep quiet about what she had done and the secret she had cached beneath a floorboard in the barn, she needed to avoid drawing his attention.

  * * *

  SO FAR AS Daniel could tell, Clint Myers, the private investigator, had left town. Later in the day, after Daniel had spoken to him, Myers had checked into a bed-and-breakfast in Byrum. Waiting, unable to do anything beyond give Rebecca the warning, Daniel had spent a restless, edgy day and night until the owner of the B and B called on Monday to inform him that Myers had left after a two-night stay.

  That same morning, Anna Mae Kemp rushed out of the café as Daniel walked past, calling his name.

  “A message,” she said, sounding breathless, “from Sarah Graber. She brought her mamm’s sticky buns for me to sell, and asked me to tell you that the man came out to the farm and her daad talked to him. She said Samuel sent that man away, no problem, and you would know what she was talking about.”

  “I do,” he agreed, wishing he could feel more relief. He’d give a lot to drive out to the Grabers’ and find out exactly what was said. How had the PI justified his search for Rebecca? Disturbed, Daniel knew she might take off again with him being none the wiser. No way to stop her. Why hadn’t he told her to stay in touch with him, no matter what happened?

  Not that he’d have believed a promise. Rebecca didn’t trust him, not yet. Maybe because her troubles were more complicated than she had admitted. Maybe because she hadn’t told the truth at all—or, at least, not the entire truth.

  Frowning, he got into his patrol car and sat for a minute. How could he be so attracted to a woman he knew might be lying to him? Going as far as thinking he might scrap his integrity and help her escape even if she was the one in the wrong?

  Yes, she might be stealing her son when she didn’t have full custody. It happened. If that was so, he felt strangely certain she had a good reason. After seeing her battered face, yes, he believed she could very well be afraid that her ex-husband would abuse her little boy, too.

  During the night, he’d had the uncomfortable thought that she might have something to do with the embezzlement. Her flight could be out of fear her role would be discovered. Or she could have had an affair with Steven Stowe. What if they had arranged to meet up later, when they thought it would be safe? Would another stranger, a handsome blond one, show up in Hadburg? But Daniel trusted his own judgment of people enough to instinctively reject any scenario where Rebecca had stolen millions of dollars. It was stupidly credulous, maybe, to be so certain, but he was.

  He would help her if he could, but he needed to quit thinking there could be anything between them. If she’d been Amish, that would have been a nearly impossible obstacle. She wasn’t, but that only meant she had no reason to stay in this remote corner of Missouri once she could safely leave. And that was assuming her life didn’t become a series of temporary stops, one step ahead of the men who were hunting her.

  Or that she didn’t go to jail.

  There were plenty of pretty women around, he told himself. He ought to start looking instead of focusing on one consumed by fear and a fierce need to protect her child. A woman with trouble at her heels.

  Somehow, this minute, he couldn’t think of a single other woman who might interest him.

  Growling under his breath, he fired up the engine and decided it was time to visit the Shaver brothers, just to remind them that he was watching. He wanted no meth labs in his county.

  And tonight...he might visit the Grabers, after all. If Rebecca didn’t know him beyond superficialities, how could she trust him with whatever it was she was afraid to say? Building relationships, that was what his job was all about.

  Danie
l snorted at this weak effort to justify doing something he shouldn’t, and pulled away from the curb.

  * * *

  THEY SAT IN the darkness on the porch steps this time. Venturing farther might have offended Onkel Samuel’s sense of propriety. Besides, no one in the house could possibly hear them. She and Daniel were both speaking softly, even though nothing they had said was really intimate.

  In the kitchen, Samuel had told Daniel in more detail about the private investigator’s visit. Then Daniel had asked if he could speak to Rebecca privately. She had tensed. Could he have learned something new about the intruder? Or about Tim? Had he violated his promise not to make inquiries?

  But so far, all he’d done was listen to her talk about how deftly Onkel Samuel had deflected questions without actually lying, and how frightened she’d been.

  “I never really saw his face.”

  “Just as well.” Soothing, he placed a hand atop hers, which she realized had been clenched in a fist.

  That touch, simple and kind, was more comforting than it should have been. She felt the strength in that hand, so much bigger than hers, and let herself return his clasp. Still, she couldn’t relax, not when he, too, was a threat. She didn’t dare give him even a hint about why she was such a target. But...maybe she and Matthew really were safe, now that the PI was gone. Rebecca wanted so much—too much—to believe that was so. Even if eventually she would have to surface, she was desperate for a reprieve.

  “Tell me about yourself,” he said unexpectedly. “And your parents. Did your mother let go of her Amish beliefs?”

  Rebecca shook her head. “As little as possible. My father didn’t mind. He understood, because he’d spent enough time in various Amish settlements to have sympathy for their way of life and values. He wasn’t really a modern man himself, not in the way the Amish mean it as a negative. Neither of them were interested in partying, or going out often, or fancy cars.” She paused. “We did have electricity. Mamm accepted that.”

  “That’s what you called her?”

  She smiled into the darkness. “Ja. None of my friends ever realized I wasn’t saying Mom like they did.”

  He chuckled.

  “We hardly ever watched television. We read, we played games, we talked and debated. I rolled my eyes when I got to be a teenager when my parents still insisted we sit down to dinner every night as a family, but now I’m glad we had that time. We’d debate the day’s news, talk about why people made the decisions they did.” Rebecca fell quiet for a moment. “I don’t think Mamm ever really understood worldly ways. She would shake her head and say, ‘Auslanders,’ so bemused. Dad...” She choked up a little. “He was gentle with her, as if she was something so wondrous he couldn’t believe she was his.”

  Daniel’s hand tightened on hers, silent encouragement for her to continue.

  “One of Mamm’s favorite biblical quotes was from John. ‘My little children, let us not love in word or in tongue, but in deed and in truth.’ That was her. I swear I never went out the door without her calling after me, ‘Da Herr sei mit du.’”

  “The Lord be with you,” Daniel murmured.

  “I miss them both every day, but especially my mother. I became so modern, I wonder how disappointed she was be in me. She never said.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” This briskness was comforting, too. “I’ve seen you with Matthew enough to know that, like her, you love ‘in deed and in truth.’ And isn’t that what is most important?”

  “Yes.” She blinked against the sting of tears in her eyes. “Of course it is.” At least she knew that what mistakes she’d made had been made out of love. It had all been for Matthew, even her defense of Tim.

  “Would you have gone to them, if you could?” Daniel asked suddenly. “Instead of here?”

  Chilled, she said, “No. No, Tim knew them, of course. I wouldn’t have wanted to expose them to his anger or even the possibility of violence.” She shivered. “Instead, I’ve brought those troubles to my aunt and uncle and grandparents, who are even less equipped to understand something so alien to their framework of belief.”

  “I’m not sure that’s true,” Daniel said, sounding thoughtful. “Your uncle, for sure, has dealt with enough outsiders to see clearly their thinking even as he holds to his faith. Perhaps not your aunt.”

  “No, she’s not even curious about the world outside her everyday experiences, not the way Sarah and Onkel Samuel can be. Even Mose,” she added. “Grossmammi... She seems effortlessly able to forgive, to count the blessings of each day. Right now, her world has shrunk. Holding on to each moment with Grossdaadi, that’s what matters.”

  “And you, and the rest of her family.”

  “Yes, of course. Having me home with Matthew, that’s one of the blessings she counts.”

  “As she should.”

  Rebecca wished she knew more about Daniel’s childhood. She would have asked, except she was very aware that they’d been out here awhile. Her uncle would soon check on them or send her aunt to do so. She felt at peace in a way she hadn’t in a long time, even if the man beside her was a police officer who would disapprove of so many decisions she’d made.

  Right now, she thought of him only as a man, one who seemed to share her contentment in the moment. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough for her to see him tip his head up to look at the moon.

  Indulging herself in his company too much, however—that could be risky. She stirred and said, “I need to get back inside before someone comes looking for me.”

  “I know you do.” He swiveled on the porch step to face her, still holding her hand. “Rebecca...”

  Suddenly he was close. So close, she could reach up and touch his jaw, feel the rasp of a day’s growth of beard. She could make out the fascinating shape of his lips, which seemed softer than usual. The tempo of her heartbeat had quickened, and warmth curled in her lower abdomen. This was why anticipation quickened in her every time she thought of him, however foolish that was. “Yes?” she whispered.

  He made a muffled sound and bent his head. Her reaction came without thought. She rested her free hand on his shoulder and lifted her face to his.

  * * *

  THE FIRST TOUCH of her lips jettisoned any common sense. Daniel knew he should keep this kiss gentle, noncommittal, something he could later tell himself had been meant as reassurance. It didn’t happen that way.

  He nipped at her intriguingly full bottom lip, savored the sweetness of apple pie, and his tongue found its way into her mouth. Her eager answer awakened his blinding need. The skin on her nape was silky beneath his rougher hand. His other hand slid upward from her waist toward the beckoning weight of her full breast.

  It was she who ripped her mouth away, her body suddenly rigid. And then Daniel heard it, too—footsteps, the sound of the door opening so close behind them.

  “Good night,” she said hastily, leaped to her feet and was at the door by the time it opened.

  As he stood, Daniel said his good-nights to her and Samuel, framed in the doorway. Then he strode away into the night, praying Samuel hadn’t looked closely at him.

  The dogs decided to accompany him when he crossed the lawn. After bending to slide between rails on the fence, he was greeted by the nicker of horses and the muted thud of giant hooves. Aroused and not thinking clearly, Daniel was grateful for the level, grazed pasture. At least he didn’t have to stumble through a stand of woods. A pair of the enormous horses, appearing pale and ghostlike in the darkness, joined the dogs to accompany him all the way. Next time, if there was a next time, he ought to bring carrots and dog treats, he thought. Fortunately, all the animals seemed pleased enough with the unexpected company, stopping at the fence on the far side to watch him out of sight.

  He had parked at the next property, tucking his SUV behind Willard Kemp’s barn. He had hear
d talk in the café about the Kemps visiting a daughter in southern Iowa, and had indeed found the house dark.

  Reaching his SUV, he flattened both hands on the roof, groaned and let his head fall forward.

  He had promised himself he wouldn’t touch her. He’d had complete faith in his self-control. Idiot, he castigated himself. Rebecca was on the run from her ex-husband. She was depending on his protection. He still wasn’t sure how honest she’d been with him. No, that cast his doubts in a positive light—he suspected she hadn’t been honest. He’d known he really just wanted to see her again, but the surface plan had been valid. Build trust with her so that she would open up.

  Amazing, the power of lust.

  Maybe it wasn’t Rebecca at all; maybe it had just been too long since he’d had sex. The recent, self-imposed celibacy had been a mistake.

  Shaking his head, he unlocked the SUV and got in, still taking another minute before starting the engine.

  Sexual deprivation was not his problem, he thought grimly. Rebecca Holt was. But, damn it, he couldn’t go anywhere with this until the full truth came out and she and her little boy were safe to resume their lives as she chose.

  Too bad all he wanted was to sneak back across the pasture and toss a pebble at her bedroom window, invite her outside and keep on kissing her.

  * * *

  HELD IN REBECCA’S gentle clasp, her grandfather’s hand was frail, the dry skin like crepe paper. Like other members of the family, she took turns sitting with him to relieve her grandmother. Today, Aenti Emma had insisted Grossmammi come to the main house for lunch instead of picking at her food and eating almost nothing while she hovered over her husband.

  Rebecca was glad of any distraction. Three days after the kiss, Daniel hadn’t returned—not that she’d expected him to. She kept reliving the unaccustomed peace he had given her. And the kiss, of course.

  Right now, she was glad to be useful.

  Her grandparents owned a sofa with built-in recliners that overpowered the small living room and looked new. She wondered if it had been purchased after Grossdaadi’s health had begun to decline. Comfortably ensconced at one end with his feet up, he peeled off the face mask that had been delivering oxygen from the portable tank and smiled. “Such a good girl you are,” he said. “We are so glad you came, Rebecca. We missed your mamm so much. With you here, when you came, it is like having her back, almost.”