Up ahead Shadow was eager, pulling at the leash as though wanting to drag Carl down the trail. The man held firmly to the leash—well in control. Working two jobs must be agreeing with him. For a man in his sixties, he was in good shape. Without her gun, she would be no match for him and that dog if Carl tried to harm her.
Her heart ached to hold her son again. She wondered whether he was remembering the night when she had promised Bobby that if he ever ran away or got lost, she would find him If he was on the highest mountain, she would come for him. If he swam the deepest ocean, she would get a boat and go to him.
He had giggled and tried to come up with impossible situations, but she had meant it. She would do anything to get him back. Even if it meant following her father’s killer down a dark path. If she didn’t do everything she could and something happened to Bobby that she could have prevented, she would never forgive herself.
Bobby had no idea whether he could wiggle his way through that cat door. He was growing so fast that he had little sense of what size his body was. He thought he could do it, but he wasn’t sure. The faint rustles his small body made as he shoved his head and shoulders through—one arm at a time—did not awaken his captors, although Greta’s very fat cat did come in from the bedroom to investigate the person invading its personal doorway. Bobby heard it hop off the bed and then felt it stepping over his legs as he struggled to squirm through the hole.
Half in and half out, Bobby was terrified to hear the cat give a harsh meow. It sounded loud enough to awaken the household, and the fear gave him added strength to pull and push his way through. It would take a few seconds for Greta and her brother to wake up and get to the door to unlock it. That delay would give him time to run, and Bobby intended to run very fast.
The moment he felt his body clear the pet door, he jumped to his feet and ran. He did not wait to hear whether anyone was coming after him. He just ran and ran and ran, over the long grass and into the woods, until he tripped over a log and lay quiet, catching his breath, listening. He did not hear Greta or Junior coming after him yet. All he heard were his own gasps as he tried to suck in enough air to keep running, and then he ran some more even though the woods were very dark and very frightening.
He tried not to think about what things might be out in the woods that might want to eat him.
Finally, when Bobby could run no more, he slowed to a walk. The minute he did, something soft flew past him, brushing his legs, and he stifled a scream. Then it came back and began to twine around his legs, and he realized it was Greta’s cat. At first Bobby was annoyed that it had followed him, but then he decided he was happy to have something following along that wouldn’t try to eat him.
The next thing he had to do was get help. Before, when he and his first mommy had gone shopping in the city, she’d taught him that if he ever got lost or separated from her, he was supposed to talk to the first police officer he could find. She had worked with him until he memorized his name and phone number.
Thinking about his mommy brought tears to his eyes. He missed her so much, although he loved Rachel too. His daddy had told him that was okay, that it wasn’t wrong to love Rachel and still love Mommy too. Then Daddy told him a secret—he felt the same way as Bobby. That made Bobby feel a lot better. If Daddy did something or felt something or said something, he knew it was right.
He wished Daddy were here now. Or Mommy. But most of all, he wished Rachel were here. Rachel carried a gun and arrested bad guys and put them in jail. That’s what Bobby needed now, not someone to teach him his name or make him memorize his phone number. He didn’t even need a daddy who could pitch and hit and catch a ball better than anyone in the world. He needed Rachel because he knew where some bad people were, and he wanted very much for her to put them in jail.
He had no idea where to find Rachel or which way to walk, except to continue going far, far away from the house where they had been keeping him. That house was a dangerous place.
Then he heard a bark and grew afraid again. When he had lived in LA, there had been a mean dog next door. He had seen that dog kill a baby rabbit with its big teeth. The dog he was hearing could be mean. He dropped to the ground again, behind a tree. He would be very still and hope the dog hadn’t already heard him or smelled him.
Chapter 60
“I can’t tell you exactly where it was now that it’s dark,” Carl said. “All I can say is that it was about a mile from the Millersburg trailhead when I saw the woman and child.
Suddenly the dog started dancing on his hind legs, pawing the air and barking.
Carl knelt and gave Shadow another whiff of one of Ezra’s socks. “You got something, boy? You smell Ezra?” He unsnapped the leash and Shadow took off running into the woods.
“He definitely got wind of something,” George said.
“Do you think it could be one of the boys?” Rachel was afraid to hope and yet started hoping in spite of herself.
“Maybe,” Carl said as they headed into the woods right behind the dog. “Or it might be a rabbit. Or a female dog. Or someone’s leftover sandwich. Shadow has good instincts. In time he might become a gifted tracker. But I can’t guarantee him yet.”
“He’s better than nothing,” she said.
“Wait a minute.” Carl held still and put his hand behind his ear like her grandfather used to do. “Do you hear something?”
They all grew quiet and listened. Then she heard a faint sound—like a child trying hard not to cry but failing.
“Come on!” She plunged farther into the woods, crashing through the underbrush toward the sound.
“Don’t you come any closer,” Rachel heard a child say. “I have a knife!”
The voice was small, and it was filled with tears. It quivered slightly on the word “knife.” And then there he stood—her brave son, shivering in the night air with a tear-streaked face, but with legs planted in a fighter’s stance and a small butter knife clutched in his fist. He stared defiantly into the beam of her flashlight.
Bobby was safe.
She handed the flashlight to George, dropped to her knees, and held out her arms. “Oh, my child.”
He blinked a couple of times before realizing that the person behind the flashlight beam had been Rachel. He dropped his little knife and ran into her arms. Now that he no longer had to stand his ground, he began sobbing with relief while he clung to her for dear life.
“I knew you’d come!” His voice was muffled with his face pressed against her neck. “I told Ezra you’d come for me. No matter what, you would come for me. I told him!”
“Where is Ezra?” Rachel asked.
“Back at the house,” Bobby said. “They were all asleep when I left.”
“Is he okay?”
“Yes. He wanted to go home, but he kinda liked watching TV.”
Rachel felt her throat close up with gratitude. Both boys were unharmed—so far. One thing she had to avoid was the kidnappers turning Ezra into a hostage.
“Good boy!” Carl was ruffling Shadow’s fur and giving him treats. “Good job!”
“Can I pet him?” Bobby asked.
“Sure thing.”
Bobby gave Shadow a hug, and the dog licked his face. When Bobby let go, Shadow danced around all of them, happy about finding the child. Rachel felt a little like dancing herself, but there was still work to be done and no time to waste.
“Tell me everything you can remember about the people who took you.”
“I tried to fight them. I knew you and Daddy would want me to. But they were too big.”
“I’m proud of you. Who are they?”
“Junior is big and he’s not nice. I don’t like him. Greta is his sister. She’s not nice either, but she wouldn’t let him hurt us. Greta had to take a nap because she has nerve problems, and Junior said I give her a headache.”
Rachel choked back a laugh. She could relate. “What else? Think hard.”
“They had a sister named Cynthia, but she died and now th
ey’re mad at Luke and all the other people at his church.”
“Anything else you can remember?”
He frowned, concentrating. “Greta said they were going to move far away and she would never have to take care of other people’s kids again.”
Something pinged in the back of Rachel’s mind. “Greta takes care of children?”
“Yeah. I guess so. She had toys and stuff there, but they were baby toys. I didn’t want to play with them.”
“Tell me about the house.”
When Bobby finished describing the living situation, Rachel realized that she knew the exact farmhouse where the children had been kept, and she knew Greta.
“I delivered a warning to Greta two months ago,” Rachel told George and Carl. “I was getting some complaints from parents. When I checked, there were definite violations of her in-home child-care facility. Greta didn’t make the improvements that were needed and we had to shut her down. No wonder she was trying to raise some quick cash. I know exactly where this woman lives.” She put her hands on Bobby’s shoulders. “Do you think Ezra is in any danger right now?”
“Greta and Junior were asleep.” Bobby was rubbing his own eyes. Now that he had abdicated his safety to Rachel, his exhaustion over the ordeal was apparent. “But if they wake up and find out I’m gone, they’ll be really mad.”
Rachel debated. “George,” she said, “would you take Bobby back to the church?”
“If that’s what you want me to do.”
“I don’t want to go with George,” Bobby said. “I want to stay with you.”
“Bobby,” she said, “I need to get Ezra out of there, and I want to make sure you’re safe while I do. Go back to the church with George and wait for me there, please. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“Did you notice whether Junior or Greta have a gun?”
“A toy one,” Bobby said.
“How do you know it was a toy?” she asked.
“Because he teased us with it. He acted like he was going to shoot Greta’s cat, but when he pulled the trigger, it was just a black squirt gun. I told Ezra not to be afraid of it.”
That was the information she needed. She was armed. It sounded like the kidnappers probably weren’t. These two weren’t professionals. Greta was nothing more than a woman who had tried to make some under-the-table cash by taking care of children and had done so badly. It was the brother who was the threat.
Rachel was trained for this. The kidnappers were not. It would probably be enough.
Carl stood there, waiting. He’d put Shadow back on the leash, which was wound around his wrist. “Tell me what you want me to do,” he said.
“I don’t want to involve a civilian in this, and I have to move fast. If Junior or Greta wake up and find Bobby missing, there might be repercussions. I need to get Ezra out of there, but I don’t want to have to protect you too. Let’s see if Shadow can find the way there, but then wait. I don’t want you getting involved.”
Lights came up the driveway as a pickup truck drove to the house. An Englisch neighbor helped Anna get down out of the truck.
“Yoo-hoo!” Anna called as Lydia and Bertha scrambled off the porch to go to her. “I’m home!”
Anna’s clothing was dirty and disheveled, and there was straw clinging to her clothing. Her white prayer kapp sat askew on her head, but she clung tightly to the cat-shaped piggy bank in her hands.
“Where have you been?” Bertha was so distraught, she hardly knew whether to hug Anna or give her a shake. “You nearly frightened us out of our wits.”
“She was in my barn tonight when I went out to check on one of my cows that I’ve been treating for mastitis,” the man said. “I’m Rob Maddock. I run a dairy farm over near Ragersville.”
“She walked all the way to Ragersville?” Bertha asked.
“It’s only a few miles by the back roads,” he said. “When I asked her where she was from, she said she lived with Lydia and Bertha. My wife bought a quilt from Lydia several years ago and remembered seeing Anna here. We thought about feeding her first, but we decided you were probably worried, so I brought her straight here.”
“You have been very kind,” Bertha said. “Thank you so much for bringing our sister back to us.”
“She was no problem,” he said. “Just gave me a little start when I walked into the barn and she rose up from a pile of straw and said, ‘Boo!’”
“That’s Anna’s little joke,” Bertha explained. “She’s done that since she was a girl. We’ve never figured out why. I apologize for her scaring you.”
“I fought in Korea,” the elderly farmer said. “Finding an Amish woman in my barn wasn’t scary, just a bit surprising.”
Lydia went into the house and came out carrying a fresh loaf of homemade bread from the kitchen. “For your breakfast,” she said to him gratefully.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, taking the bread. Then he climbed back into his truck and headed home.
“What on earth were you thinking?” Bertha scolded Anna. “Why did you go away like that?”
“The bad people wanted money for Bobby. I have lots.” She handed the piggy bank to Bertha. “But I couldn’t find anybody to give it to.”
Chapter 61
Neither Rachel nor Carl made small talk as Shadow led them the way Bobby had come. As they walked, Rachel checked her gun, making sure every chamber was loaded.
“I did not know your father,” Carl said, “but I think any man would be proud to have you as a daughter.”
There were several sharp retorts Rachel could have and would have made had he not just found her son.
“Thanks,” she said. “I think we should be getting close. It can’t be much farther if a six-year-old was able to walk it. Turn off your flashlight. I don’t want them to look out the window and see lights coming.”
With the flashlight off, she could see a faint house light up ahead. “Stay here,” she instructed. “I’m going to see if I can tell from the outside where Ezra is located.”
“Then what?”
“Then I’ll call in the Millersburg police for backup and go after him.”
The old farmhouse was so isolated that the inhabitants were apparently not in the habit of pulling the blinds. Lights were blazing from within the house, and it was easy to find a vantage point to see in. Ezra and Greta were in the living room.
Greta had her hands on her hips and was yelling at Ezra. The old windows were single-paned, and Rachel could hear most of the words. Greta was browbeating Ezra for Bobby’s escape.
Ezra was cowering against a wall. Being yelled at was not something that happened in Naomi and Luke’s house. Seeing that sweet child’s fear infuriated Rachel.
It would be another hour before she could begin to expect the FBI. Still watching the house, she drew her cell phone out of her pocket and started to dial 911—until someone grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around.
It was a large man, and he appeared very angry.
“Where did you come from?”
“You’re Junior,” she said.
“Yeah. And this is private property. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”
He was outside, Ezra was inside, and she had stupidly waited too long to call the Millersburg police. She took one step back and pulled her gun from where it nestled against the small of her back, training it on him. “Turn around and put your hands against that tree.”
“Why?”
“Because the child who escaped is my son, and the little boy inside is my best friend’s son.”
“Huh! I thought there was something wrong with him. Never saw an Amish kid act that way.”
“Turn around and put your hands against the tree.”
“So you’re the kid’s mommy.” Junior did not turn around, and he did not put his hands on the tree. “I’ll bet you never even shot that thing before. What is it, your boyfriend’s gun?”
At that moment, his sister came out onto the porch, firmly h
olding Ezra by his suspenders. “What’s going on out here?”
“Greta,” Rachel said, “bring Ezra over to me.”
Before Greta could answer or comply, Rachel was hit by a cramp. It was mild and she could still function, but she bit her lip, trying to conceal the pain.
Unfortunately, Junior had heard her small gasp. “Something wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said.
She didn’t say anything else because she felt another cramp coming on. Dear God! Why now? Unless she was mistaken, something was going terribly wrong.
A sly grin crept over the man’s face. “Not feeling so good, are we?”
“I’m fine.”
And at that point, a cramp hit that was so severe, no matter how hard Rachel tried to fight, that it doubled her over where she stood, panting, with her hands on her knees. The gun dangled from one hand as she gasped for breath.
Junior approached her. She weakly waved the gun in his general direction. “Stay away.”
Suddenly he was all business. “Get the rope, Greta.”
“You’ll never get away with this.” Rachel was finally able to stand up straight. She took a deep breath, brought the gun back up—and then another cramp hit and she doubled again. What was going on with her body?
“You can hardly hold your head up, let alone shoot me. Hate to tell you this, but you aren’t much of a threat.”
A harder cramp hit, knocking the breath right out of her. Rachel grew dizzy from the pain. Never had she felt so vulnerable or so useless. Junior came over and plucked the weapon right out of her hand, and there wasn’t one thing she could do to stop him.
Now, not only was she unable to save Ezra, but she was unable to save even herself. There was a heaviness in her abdomen she had never felt, and the worst pain she’d ever experienced kept ripping through her body.
“Tie her up,” Junior growled at Greta. “We’ve got to get out of here. I don’t know where that other kid is. He might bring somebody here.”
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