by Alison Stone
Heather lowered herself onto the edge of the chair and met Ruthie’s wary gaze. How did she tell her Amish friend that her ex-husband had escaped prison and had tracked her down in Quail Hollow?
Wasn’t this part of the reason the Amish lived separate from the world? There was too much evil out there. Case in point.
Living the Amish way hadn’t saved her mother.
“You deserve the whole truth.” Heather swallowed hard and ran her hands up and down her thighs. “A long time ago, I was married to a man who turned out to be abusive.”
“This man they’re looking for?” Ruthie stopped fidgeting with her apron and stared at her. The fear and uncertainty in her eyes made Heather feel like she had somehow betrayed her friend.
Heather nodded in response to Ruthie’s question. “I got away from him—” she fast-forwarded ten years, not wanting to weigh Ruthie down with her past “—but he remarried and killed his second wife.”
A quiet gasp escaped Ruthie’s lips as blotches of pink fired in her fair-skinned cheeks.
“The man you met downstairs isn’t a friend of mine. He’s actually a law enforcement officer. Deputy U.S. Marshal Zachary Walker came here to warn me that my ex-husband had escaped prison and was on his way to hurt me.”
“I’m so sorry this has happened to you,” Ruthie said. “How can I help?”
Heather’s breath hitched before she caught herself. This wasn’t the response she had expected. Shock, maybe. Questions, definitely. But sympathy and a show of support? Perhaps Ruthie had more exposure to the harsh realities of the outside world than Heather had realized.
“I’d completely understand if you decided you didn’t want to work here.” Heather felt it necessary to offer her young friend a way out. She couldn’t put her in danger.
“I’ve been looking forward to working here,” Ruthie said softly. “It’s a pleasant change from the greenhouse.”
A knock sounded on the door followed by Zach Walker’s authoritative voice. “Fox is gone. It’s safe. Come on out.”
Heather brushed the back of her hand across Ruthie’s sleeve and smiled. She stood and crossed the room to unlock the door. Hoping she could mask her apprehension, she squared her shoulders before opening it.
“We can talk downstairs,” Zach said, all business.
Heather led the way downstairs followed by Ruthie, Zach trailing behind.
“It’s safe?” Heather repeated his words, although she doubted she’d ever feel safe. She should have never believed she could. As long as there was evil out there—namely Brian Fox—she’d never feel safe again.
Once they reached the new addition, Zach widened his stance and crossed his arms, looking down at her. “It won’t be safe here for you until Fox is back in custody. That’s nonnegotiable. You need someplace secure to go for the duration.”
“For the duration?” Heather’s mind spun. She hated the high-pitched quality of her voice. “I can’t just leave. I’m in the middle of renovations. The workmen should be here any minute.” Even as she said the words, she realized how ridiculous she sounded. Of course she couldn’t stay here. Brian had already found her. Tingles of panic bit at her fingertips and threatened to spread up her arms and consume her with the all-too-familiar fight-or-flight response.
She turned her back to Zach, trying to hide the red flush heating her face. She needed time to think.
The sound of a few Amish workmen speaking in Pennsylvania Dutch floated in from the backyard through the plastic lining covering the opening for the window that was yet to be installed. “I should offer them coffee.”
“I’ll get the coffee.” Ruthie hurried past her and into the kitchen.
“Can we sit down?” Zach asked. “Talk about this?”
Heather had long passed the point of trying to ignore this entire nightmare. She held out her hand, directing him toward the sitting room. Two rockers sat in front of a wood-burning stove, where the tourists were supposed to relax after a day of sightseeing. Not where she was supposed to discuss her ex-husband, who had escaped from prison.
This is too crazy to comprehend. Like a nightmare come true.
The U.S. Marshal leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You are one of the strongest women I know. It took a lot for you to come forward to testify against Fox in my sister’s trial. I’m grateful.”
Her stomach twisted at the personal nature of his comment. After she escaped, Brian had killed Zach’s sister. Zach didn’t owe her his gratitude. If she had been braver sooner...
“I didn’t have a choice but to testify.” She measured her words, fighting back a groundswell of emotion, guilt riding the crest. If she hadn’t escaped from Brian, he might not have killed his sister.
You would have been the one he killed...
Heather dragged a hand across her hair and blinked her gritty eyes. Every fiber of her being ached with exhaustion. Frustration. Regret.
“I’ve put everything into this place. I have nowhere else to go.” Even she could hear the fight draining from her argument.
“The sheriff’s deputy told me you have two sisters.”
“How did he...? Of course...” Heather slowly shook her head. Quail Hollow was a small town. Despite having kept to herself—except for getting to know Ruthie’s family—since she moved into a nearby apartment to start renovations, the residents still knew her story. She didn’t truly believe she could be a Miller in Quail Hollow and not have people know about her past, but she had hoped to live a quiet life. So much for that. “I can’t move in with one of my sisters. I’m not going to put either of them in danger. I can’t.”
“A relative. Someone Fox doesn’t know about.”
“My father moved us away from our family. We’ve lost all ties. Last I heard, my two uncles and their families moved to another Amish community. I suppose I’m the only Miller foolish enough to live in Quail Hollow.”
“Friends?”
“I never stayed anywhere long enough to establish friendships. And the friends I had before...”
Pulse thudding in her ears, she slowly turned to meet Zach’s steady gaze. “I was married to the man. He knows everything about me. I’m not safe anywhere.” Her voice cracked over the last word.
“You may feel that way, but I can take you to a safe house.”
“You’re asking me to run?”
“I know.” The look of compassion in his eyes spoke volumes. He knew what he was asking her to do.
“What will happen to this place when I’m gone? If I run, Brian wins. Again.” She bowed her head and threaded her fingers through her hair and tugged, frustrated. But even as she made the argument, her resolve was fading.
“It’s only temporary.” His smooth, calming voice washed over her. If only she could believe that.
“I hid for ten years from Brian.” She lifted her gaze, wondering if he could read in her eyes the blame she felt for not coming forward. For not stopping Brian before he had a chance to meet, marry and then kill Zach’s sister. As irrational as that thought was, it always came back around to haunt her. In the long chain that had connected Brian Fox to Zach’s sister, Jill, she had been a pivotal link.
“The difference this time is that every law enforcement agency in New York State is searching for this guy. It will be temporary. He’s not living as a free man.”
“You can stay with me.”
Both Zach and Heather spun around to find Ruthie walking into the sitting room holding two mugs of coffee. “You’ll be safe at my home.”
“I couldn’t,” Heather said, accepting the coffee from her Amish friend.
“Wait,” Zach said, “that’s not a bad idea. Fox wouldn’t know to search for you there. You’ve only recently become friends, right? There’s no way Fox would make the connection.”
“Yah, well, my mem and Heather’s mem were fr
iends a long time ago.”
“I can’t imagine Fox would connect the dots,” Zach said.
“I can’t put Ruthie in danger.”
“No one will know you’re there.” Ruthie’s eyes shone brightly, the eagerness of only the young and the innocent. “You can even wear my Amish clothes. We’re about the same size.”
Heather’s eyes widened at the young woman’s suggestion. Heather might have thought Ruthie had watched a lot of TV to come up with such a crazy plan, but that obviously wasn’t the case. She was just a clever young woman.
Zach leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. His golf shirt stretched across his broad chest. “It’s not a bad idea.”
“You live with your parents?” Zach asked.
“My mem. My dat died last year. Now it’s just the three of us. I have four older sisters, all married and living nearby. My little sister is fifteen.”
“I can’t imagine your mother would be happy with having an outsider in her home.” Maryann had been nothing but kind and welcoming to Heather, but she wasn’t so sure about this. This involved some level of deceit: pretending to be Amish. Would Ruthie’s mother go for it?
Ruthie planted her hands on her hips. “She won’t mind. My mem and your mem were best friends. She’d want to help you. I know it.”
Surprise trapped a response in Heather’s throat.
Zach pushed to his feet. “It’s worth asking.”
A throbbing started in Heather’s temples. “What if he follows us there? I can’t... I just can’t.”
FOUR
Zachary paced the small space between the rocking chairs and the wood-burning stove. “We can take extra precautions to make sure Fox doesn’t follow us back to Ruthie’s home.”
Heather stared up at him, worry lining her pretty eyes. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“I’m not letting you stay here.” Zach winced at the way he’d framed the words. He suspected Heather wouldn’t take kindly to being forced to do anything. He stopped pacing and sat down on the rocker across from hers. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not going to force you into anything. However, it’s against my better judgment and all my training to leave you here. Fox has been here.” He pointed in the general direction of the graffiti on the wall. “Please let me—” he looked at Ruthie “—let us help you.”
He shifted to catch Ruthie’s attention. “Do you know the workmen here?”
“Yah, Sloppy Sam is a gut friend.”
“Sloppy Sam?” Zachary couldn’t help but smile. Then he turned to Heather. “You hired someone named Sloppy Sam to do home renovations? Seems like a risky move.”
Shrugging, Heather mirrored his smile and flicked a quick glance at Ruthie. “Sloppy Sam came highly recommended.”
“A lot of Amish have nicknames because so many people have the same name. I know—” Ruthie lifted her hands and held up her fingers. “I know at least seven Samuels. And trust me, Sloppy Sam is a very fine craftsman. He got his nickname when he was a little boy. He tended to enjoy his meals so much that his father kept calling him sloppy. It stuck.”
“Well, maybe Sloppy Sam can give you a ride home in his wagon. You can talk to your mother, run the plan by her, then I’ll see to it that Heather makes it there, albeit in a circuitous route. Sound like a plan?”
“Yah.”
“Please don’t tell Sloppy Sam or any of the other Sams you know. The fewer people who know where Heather is, the better.”
“I understand.” Ruthie pointed toward the back window. “I’ll see that the workmen install the window before I leave. Make sure no one else can get in.”
Zach met Heather’s gaze. She knew as well as he did that no one could stop a determined Fox from getting in.
“Thank you,” Heather said. “You’ve been a good friend. But please, if I arrive and your mother doesn’t want me in her home, please tell me. I don’t want to put your family out.”
“It’ll be fine. You’ll see.” Ruthie smiled and went outside to talk to the workmen.
“Why don’t you grab a few things? I’ll drive you to the sheriff’s department, and then we’ll make alternate plans to get you to Ruthie’s house. I don’t want Fox to follow us from here.”
Heather dragged the charm back and forth across the gold chain on her necklace. “How long do you think it will take before they capture Brian?”
Zach rubbed the back of his neck. “I understand Fox has a lot of experience surviving in the woods. He was big into camping, right?”
Heather nodded. An expression suggesting she was remembering an unhappy camping trip flitted across her features.
“He’s more equipped than most to make a go of it out in the woods.”
Heather’s shoulders sagged, as if she had lost some of her initial bravado. “Do you think I’m foolish to stay in Quail Hollow? Maybe I should put more distance between us.”
Zachary leaned forward and reached out to take her hand, but stopped short of touching her. “You can go round and round with this. I think our initial plan is a good one. We can reevaluate if either I or the sheriff’s department feels your safety is compromised.”
Heather raised her eyebrows. “You’re not leaving Quail Hollow? I thought your job was to make sure I’m secure.”
“It is. And the only way you’ll be one hundred percent secure is if Fox is back in custody. Until then, I’m sticking close by.”
Heather closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’ll grab a bag. It won’t take me long. I haven’t even had a chance to unpack since moving in here.”
* * *
The hammering of the workmen clashed with the pounding in Heather’s head as she jogged up the stairs to grab a few things. Between the lack of sleep and her plans for the future crashing down around her, she wondered why she had ever allowed herself to dream. To hope for the future.
Tragedy followed her as if she had a flashing neon arrow over her head.
Rely on your faith. Her father’s words drifted through her mind. Despite losing his wife and the only life he’d ever known, her father had raised his three daughters to be strong in their faith. To not let their circumstances weigh them down. That God would provide.
Yet her father had worked the last twenty years of his life in a dark factory and died of a heart attack on the way home to his two youngest daughters while riding a public bus during a snowstorm. Help hadn’t arrived in time to save him.
God had not provided, but Heather refused to allow that to shatter her faith. She owed that much to her father.
Heather snatched her sweater off the back of the chaise lounge in her bedroom and crammed it into a bag.
Time to go. Hide from Brian. Again.
Her heart ached with the reality that she had come so far only to be pulled back by the man who had always been determined to keep her under his thumb.
“I’ll be back,” she whispered to her cozy bedroom. That was a promise. She turned and hustled down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, Zach extended a hand to take her bag. “Is this it?”
Heather tipped her head. “I don’t suppose I’ll be needing much, considering I’ll be wearing Ruthie’s wardrobe.”
Lifting the strap of her bag over his shoulder, he shot her a look she couldn’t quite read. “I talked to the workmen. They’ll finish up here and Ruthie’s going to lock up on her way out.”
“And there’s no way Brian will follow us to Ruthie’s?” Unease twisted her stomach. “I can’t—”
“You’ll have to trust me on this. Come on.” With a hand to the small of her back, he led her outside. His intense scrutiny of their surroundings both comforted and unnerved her. They walked down the muddy driveway, made uneven by the horses’ hooves and the narrow wheels of the workmen’s wagons.
Alarm coursed through her. “My sisters. They must have heard
that Brian escaped. They’ll be worried.” She dragged her hand across her forehead. The intensity of the morning sun made her feel queasy. “You don’t think he’d go after them?”
“He’s here. He’s coming for you.”
She couldn’t help but laugh, an awkward, nervous sound. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
Half his mouth quirked into a grin. During the trial, she had never seen him so much as crack a smile. “I didn’t mean...”
Heather held up her hand. “I know what you meant. But do you think I could contact my sisters? At least let them know I’m okay and to tell them to be more cautious. To report anything suspicious.”
“Of course. We can make a few phone calls from the sheriff’s office before I take you to Ruthie’s home.” He quickened his pace, nudging her forward with a hand to her elbow. “But let’s get you off this property.”
Heather squinted against the sun and tented her hand over her eyes. “Where did you park?” He was leading her across the narrow country road.
“I parked behind the buggy here. I didn’t want to draw attention to my vehicle in case Fox was watching.”
Still holding her elbow, he led her around the buggy and they both came up short. Her stomach bottomed out and she willed away her urgent need to throw up. The windshield of his truck had been smashed.
With two hands on her waist, Zach set her next to the buggy like she was a child who needed to be told to stay put and not move. He reached for his gun. “Stay here.” He set her bag down on the gravel lot.
A flush of dread washed over her and she struggled to catch her breath. She glanced around, her vision narrowing. A crow silently flapped its wings overhead, cutting a path across the sky.
The cornfields swayed in the winds. The sweet scent of corn and dried leaves reached her nose.
A split-rail fence in need of repair.
A long-ago abandoned silo.
Yesterday, this landscape had brought her peace. Today she saw nothing but places for Brian to hide.
She flexed and relaxed her hands, trying to tamp down her panic. He was not going to destroy her life. Not again.
