by Alison Stone
Dear Lord, help me remain calm.
She doubted she could run to the door, unlock it and get in before he grabbed her. Perhaps she could keep him talking until Conner showed up.
If Conner showed up. She said a quick prayer that Emma called Conner as she had told her to. Or perhaps he had gotten her voicemail and decided to investigate.
Grace hiked her chin and tried to speak calmly. Show no fear. “Did you know my mother before she died?”
A slow smile tilted the corners of his lips. A wicked glint lit his eyes in the moonlight. Sadness prickled the backs of her eyes. Her phone rang and a burst of hope rippled through her. She locked eyes with Kevin. Could she answer it before he stopped her?
Quickly, she reached into her pocket. Saw it was Conner. Frantic, she tried to accept the call, but Kevin slapped the phone out of her hand. “Not so fast. No more games.”
Her phone sliced through the snow and disappeared. Her one source of communication was lost. A link to survival.
Kevin Schrock, the retired undersheriff, grabbed her arms and pulled them behind her. He shoved her toward his truck. Knowing this was her last chance, however feeble, she screamed and it echoed off the snow and barren trees. She wanted to cry, knowing it wasn’t likely anyone had heard.
Kevin cursed, lifted his fist and slammed it into her head. Grace’s all-consuming fear turned to blackness.
FOURTEEN
“None of this makes sense,” the retired sheriff said from the passenger seat of Conner’s truck. “Kevin Schrock pulled a young Amish woman over? Why would he do that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was some kind of misunderstanding. Grace asked Emma to call me if she didn’t call her in thirty minutes. Now Grace isn’t answering her phone. Emma was under the impression that they were going to take her horse and wagon to the barn at the bed & breakfast for safekeeping. Let’s go there. Clear this up.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Kevin was acting outside his authority to pull someone over.” Conner swallowed hard. He considered the fact that Kevin wanted to get to Grace somehow. How did that play into all this? The puzzle pieces didn’t quite fit. Kevin had been his dad’s longtime friend and subordinate. This was out of character for the man who had worn a badge for most of his adult life.
“You’re friends with Kevin. Anything unusual going on in his life?”
“As much as it might surprise you, us guys don’t talk about our feelings much.”
Conner scrubbed a hand across his face. Maybe he should try another angle. “What role did Kevin play in Sarah Miller’s murder investigation?” Something niggled at the back of his brain. Despite not seeing how all this would play out, Conner was convinced he was on the right path.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Dad, answer the question.” He pressed down on the accelerator and the truck’s engine roared. He prayed he didn’t hit any ice. He didn’t want to fishtail and end up in a ditch. Not tonight.
“He was my right-hand man. Sarah’s case nearly killed me. I could never get her daughters out of my mind. I won’t lie—it got emotional for me, whereas Kevin could separate his job from his emotions. He kept me focused. Kept me from charging off in all sorts of directions where I would have been wasting time and resources. You need to have focus with investigations like these.”
Conner slowed at an intersection, glanced both ways and then sped through. “Were there any leads on which you felt he redirected you?”
“What are you talking about? Are you suggesting Kevin purposely interfered with the case?” Conner hadn’t heard this hard-edged anger in his father’s voice in a long time. He hated to be challenged.
Conner gripped the steering wheel tighter. “I’m throwing out ideas. Trying to keep myself focused. Otherwise I might go mad imagining why Grace isn’t answering her cell phone. Why would Kevin pull over an Amish girl when he’s no longer working for the sheriff’s department? Can we play around with a few what-if scenarios?”
“Yes.” His father’s answer was clipped. “Kevin was convinced a vagrant passing through town killed Mrs. Miller. And it was our best lead. Once, I thought we even had the guy, until he produced a rock-solid alibi. The guy was in Buffalo, locked up in the county holding center the week Sarah was murdered. But then we got information on another stranger seen in town that week.” He fisted his hands. “Never could track him down.”
“Who got that lead? The one on the second stranger?” Conner asked, keeping his eyes on the road.
“I don’t know.” His father grew silent for a minute. “I’m pretty sure it was Kevin.” His father muttered under his breath. “I can’t...”
“I wonder if Kevin generated this lead because he was trying to redirect your focus.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“Were there any leads you didn’t pursue, perhaps on Kevin’s insistence?”
“A rumor surfaced that Sarah Miller may have dated an Englischer. We quickly put that to bed. It was hard enough for the family. We didn’t want to drag Sarah’s reputation through the mud.”
He considered the exchange between Maryann Hershberger and Grace. Maryann claimed her friend had had an Englisch suitor. “What did Kevin think about that theory?”
“Not a lot. We were on the same page. No sense hurting the family more with baseless allegations.”
Conner slowed and turned into the snow-packed driveway of the bed & breakfast. A wagon sat at the end of the driveway. “Looks like they made it here.”
Conner and his dad hopped out of the truck at the same time. Conner ran to the back door and pounded on it. He canvassed the trampled snow while they waited. Either a few kids had been playing out here, or someone had had a struggle.
His father checked the barn and the two men met back in the center of the snowy yard. “There are two horses in the barn.”
“The bed & breakfast only has one horse.” Conner glanced around and noticed the tracks in the snow. “Looks like they brought Emma’s horse and wagon here like she said. But there’s no sign of Grace or Kevin.”
The retired sheriff studied him with watchful eyes. “What’s going on?”
Conner shook his head. “I wish I knew.” He jerked his head toward his dad. “Call Kevin. Don’t let on that we’re looking for him. See what he says.”
His father gave him a quick nod and opened his old-school flip phone. Conner paced outside the barn. Puffs of white vapor floated out from his mouth and disappeared into the black of night.
His father snapped the phone shut. “No answer.”
“I’ll try Grace again.” He dialed her number. From across the yard, he heard a chirping noise. He followed the sound, made easier by the glowing light under a layer of snow.
He ran over to it, his boots crunching on the snow. Holding his breath, he bent over, stuck his hand in the snow and grabbed the phone. The screen displayed his name and number.
“Wherever Grace went, she left in a hurry,” his dad said.
“How far does Kevin live from here?”
“He doesn’t live far from the sheriff’s department.” The two men’s eyes locked. Conner knew exactly what his father was thinking. “I’ll call it in. Have someone go by and check his house. They’ll get there before we possibly can.”
* * *
The throbbing in Grace’s head was the first thing she tuned into as she regained consciousness. The second was the stale smell of something closed up for far too long. The third was the set of events leading up to the pounding headache.
Fighting to keep her breath even so Kevin might think she was still sleeping, she opened her eyes a fraction. She had no idea where she was or the time. The room was dark, and a thin line of light seeped in under the door. The sharp springs of a cot poked her back.
She couldn’t see much of anything. Sh
e held her breath and avoided any conspicuous movements. She didn’t sense Kevin in the room with her.
She dared to open her eyes wide and study her surroundings. The heavily shadowed room came into focus. The thick drapes over the windows masked the time of day. She was in a room—a cabin decorated hunter chic—and the exit was about twenty feet away.
Dear Lord, help me get out of here.
Flattening her hand on the cot, she pushed herself up to a seated position and the springs groaned. Her aching head joined the protest. The room spun and what little was in her stomach threatened to make a second appearance. She lifted a hand to her aching head and was surprised to feel something. A prayer kapp? A bonnet. Blinking away her confusion, she touched the fabric gathered around her legs. A dress.
Head swimming, she pushed to her feet and crossed to a dresser and turned on a dim light. A full-length mirror sat in the corner. Someone had pulled her hair into a bun, placed on a bonnet and dressed her in Amish clothing. Frantic, she lifted up the hem of the gown and saw her jeans. The cuffs of her shirt poked up from the sleeves of the Amish dress. Someone had dressed her over her regular street clothes. She took small comfort in that, even as an underlying dread pulsed ever stronger through her veins.
Whoever had done this was sick.
Fearing Kevin had become unhinged, she knew she had to get out of there. As she quickly scanned the room, her thoughts grew scattered, and her face felt heated. If she hoped to make a break for it, she’d have to find her shoes and coat. Without them, she’d escape only to be found frozen to death in the harsh elements. She didn’t see them anywhere.
A rustling sounded at the door. She grew rigid with indecision, uncertain if she should get back into bed and pretend she was still unconscious, or charge the door.
Her mouth went dry as the door swung open.
* * *
“Stay on the line with the deputy,” Conner said to his dad. “Tell him we’re headed to Kevin Schrock’s house now. We’re twelve minutes out. If he’s there, make sure to keep him in sight. We’re looking for Grace Miller. We can’t risk him getting desperate.”
His father nodded in the passenger seat, his phone pressed to his ear. He relayed the information. Conner could see the old fire in his dad’s eyes. Conner hoped they’d find Grace safe and sound.
The thought of losing Grace forever forced all his true feelings to the surface. He had tried to stuff them down to be effective at his job. And because he knew she wasn’t going to stay in Quail Hollow, anyway. That made it easy to pretend he didn’t feel what he felt for her.
But the thought of losing her forever...
Hadn’t his dad’s inability to separate his feelings been his downfall? Or had his right-hand man purposely derailed the investigation?
A fist knotted his stomach as the pieces of the case started to click together.
As Conner raced toward Kevin’s house and his dad waited on the phone, Conner asked, “Do you think Kevin was capable of hurting Sarah?”
His father stared straight ahead. “He was my friend. We don’t even know that Kevin has Grace.” His square jaw was set in determination.
“If he does, do you think he’d hurt Grace?”
His father sighed heavily, as if finally resigned to the fact Kevin wasn’t who he thought he was. “I don’t know anymore. I’m going to have to question everything I knew about Kevin. If he’s involved.” His dad straightened in his seat and turned his attention back to the person on the other end of the phone. “Yeah...You sure?...Okay.” He ran a hand across his jaw. “Keep us posted.”
His father flipped the phone closed. “No sign of Kevin at his house.”
Conner eased off the gas, annoyance coursing through him. “Did they put out an alert for his vehicle?”
“Yes.”
Conner pounded the steering wheel. The vehicle emitted a wimpy honk when his fist unintentionally made contact with the horn. An idea zipped through his mind. “Does Kevin have other friends, places he might go if he’s desperate? If he needed someplace to hole up?”
His father bolted upright in his seat. “He’s got an old hunting cabin. Goes there to clear his head. He brought me up there once a long time ago.”
Conner’s adrenaline spiked, and he had to consciously will himself to calm down. “Do you think you could find it now?”
“Yes!” His father’s voice vibrated with excitement. “Turn left at the next intersection. It’s about thirty minutes away.”
FIFTEEN
“You’re awake.” Kevin stood with an armload of firewood. His demeanor was that of someone who had simply returned from a quick errand, not of someone who had kidnapped a woman and dressed her in Amish clothing.
“I’m awake,” she replied, studying him carefully. “What are we doing here?” She tried to keep her tone even, nonaccusatory.
“I’m lighting a fire. It gets cold in here.” He stretched out a hand and flipped on the light switch. “This provides better light than that old lamp.” He dragged one hand over a piece of dusty furniture. “This place could use a good cleaning. I haven’t been up here as much as I’d like.”
Grace nodded slowly and winced. The pain ricocheted around her aching head. Kevin unloaded the firewood in the stand next to the fireplace in what seemed to be the master bedroom, yet he had set her up on a cot and not the bed that took up half of one wall. He rushed over to her like a doting boyfriend. “Does it hurt?” He studied her face in a way that made her skin crawl. He cupped her cheek, and she could feel gritty pieces of wood and dirt on his fingers. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, but you were making such a fuss.”
Grace leaned back a fraction and lifted her chin in a show of strength. “I need you to take me home now, Kevin. People will be looking for me.”
He studied her face with an intensity that made her eyelid twitch. “You’re not going home, Sarah. It’ll be different this time.”
Cold dread pumped through her veins. She knew it, even before he called her by the wrong name. Her mother’s name. His link with reality had shattered to the point where Kevin thought she was a woman he had likely killed almost thirty years ago.
The walls closed in on her.
Kevin Schrock had been her mother’s Englisch suitor. And when she rejected him he had ended her life.
It was the only thing that made sense.
“I never, ever meant to hurt you.” Kevin narrowed his gaze, lost in thought. Lost in another time. Lost in the face of another woman. “We could have been happy if you had chosen me. You were too stubborn, self-righteous.” A vein bulged on his forehead, and Grace knew she had to put on a performance.
She smoothed the tips of her trembling fingers across his forehead. She swallowed her revulsion. “It’s okay. I’m here now.”
Kevin let out a shaky breath and seemed to relax his shoulders. He even closed his eyes for the briefest of moments. “You are, aren’t you?” He stared into her eyes, and it was all Grace could do not to blink. Not to cry. Not to lash out at this man who had killed her mother.
Dear Lord, help me.
“Why don’t you light the fire?” She made an exaggerated show of shuddering to emphasize how cold she was.
Kevin searched her face for a long moment, then ran his hand down her arm. “Okay, honey. Stay here. I’ll take care of it.”
She nodded slowly, wishing her head would stop throbbing.
He took a piece of newspaper from the stack near the fireplace and crumpled it up for kindling. Grace’s mind raced. How could she get out of here? She still had no jacket or shoes. How far could she get in the snow?
While her mother’s murderer built the fire, he muttered something about taking care of the horse this time because people seemed more concerned about the horse than they had about a murdered woman. People didn’t always have their priorities straight.
Grace had read about her mother’s horse being found wandering Quail Hollow after she had been killed. She quickly shoved the thought aside, determined to remain strong and focused if she hoped to survive.
Grace took a chance and stepped toward the bedroom door. Kevin froze like an animal sensing a shift in the environment. He pivoted on the balls of his feet and slowly rose, a dark cloud floating behind his eyes. “What are you doing?”
With her pulse thrumming in her ears, Grace swallowed hard and forced a smile, fearing Kevin would notice the twitch in her cheeks. “I thought maybe I’d make us tea.” Her eyes wandered toward the bedroom door. Maybe she’d find a weapon in the kitchen.
Kevin considered her suggestion for a moment before telling her to sit on the cot. He was the host. He’d make the tea.
“Okay.” She slowly sat down and clutched her hands in her lap. He flicked the lighter and a flame caught the piece of newspaper under the firewood.
Kevin rubbed his hands together. “We should have a roaring fire before long. It’s a good thing I came along when you were stuck on the side of the road.”
What?
Grace pressed her lips together, determined not to contradict him. Her nerves hummed as she plotted her escape. The longer he was in the cabin, the calmer he became. Maybe he’d eventually let down his guard. Until then, what would she endure? She wanted to ask him so many questions about her mom, about the recent attacks and break-ins, and how Bradley and his confession fit in. But she feared his precarious grasp on reality would further shatter and put her in imminent danger. He thought he was her rescuer. He was blending events...from tonight? And from almost thirty years ago?
“Are you warm?” he asked, coming to sit next to her and taking her hand in his. She fought the urge to yank it away.
“Yes...” She purposely let the word hang out there, preying on his need to please her.
“What is it?”
Grace smiled, doing her best to act shy. “I’m embarrassed to tell you this. I’d like to use the bathroom.”
