The Amish Heiress (The Paradise Chronicles Book 1)

by Patrick E. Craig

  Randall nodded. “It looks like the kid shoved him out the door backwards and then somehow Headley slipped on the ice and fell. This really messes things up. The kid is on the loose, Gerald is unconscious in his room, we have a dead body on our hands, and Augusta is getting nervous. It’s not so simple anymore.”

  “What are we going to do, Colonel?”

  “I’ll call the local police and tell them there was an attempted kidnapping here, and they should be on the lookout for Daniel King. We have to neutralize him. I want a scenario that King can’t turn over and the police will buy. Deranged ex-boyfriend shows up at mansion and tries to kidnap the girl but is driven off by security guards that had been alerted to a possible kidnap attempt. I want everything to look normal if the police show up. If they catch King, it will take him a while to get them to believe the truth. By then, the girl will be dead and we’ll be long gone. Then Augusta can deal with the police.”

  “Okay, I’ll handle it.”

  “Good, now let’s get Headley into the cellar at the cottage and we’ll pull this operation back together.”

  *****

  The phone rang at the Old Greenwich police station. Sergeant Oliver Cromwell Franklin jerked awake at his desk and looked up at the clock on the wall. It was 3 a.m. Sergeant Franklin scratched his belly and then picked up the phone. “Greenwich Police, Sergeant Franklin, how can I help you?”

  “Sergeant Franklin, this is Gordon Randall. I’m head of security for Augusta St. Clair. We’ve had an attempted kidnapping here at the estate. The man escaped and I think he’s headed your way. He’s on foot.”

  Sergeant Franklin groaned. Why did this stuff always happen on his shift? And why at the St. Clairs’? Augusta was a tiger and made things miserable if his department didn’t keep her happy. “Do you know who it was, Mr. Randall?”

  “Yes. The intruder’s name is Daniel King. He was an ex-boyfriend of Gerald St. Clair’s new wife. He has been obsessing over her and had been sending her letters. When that didn’t work, he followed her here from her hometown. He got a job in the St. Clair stables. He grew a beard and the St. Clairs didn’t realize who he was until he snuck into Rachel St. Clair’s room tonight through an unlocked patio door. She recognized him immediately, though, and called for help. He was ranting and raving about getting her away where she would be safe. When my man heard Mrs. St. Clair screaming and broke into the room, King fought with him and got away. The guy was acting crazy.

  Mrs. St. Clair is very upset over the incident, and she’s suffering from a bad bout of the flu, so we’ve moved her to a safe room in the house and we have our men on guard. It’s pretty well buttoned up here, but you should put out an APB for King. He’s tall, blond hair and beard, and dark clothes. And Sergeant, he is definitely dangerous.”

  “All right, Mr. Randall. Thanks for the call. Are you sure everything is okay up there?”

  “Perfectly, Sergeant. I’ve called in more men and have them patrolling the estate. A squirrel couldn’t get onto the grounds without us knowing it. We’re good here. Oh, one more thing.”

  “What’s that, Mr. Randall?”

  “When you catch him, Augusta would appreciate it if you did everything you could to keep this incident quiet. She wants him locked up tight. We don’t want King taking his crazy stories to the press, and we certainly don’t want to put the kidnapping idea in anyone else’s head. Rachel St. Clair is very ill with the flu and the St. Clairs don’t want anything to upset her. Do you understand?”

  “I sure do, Mr. Randall. You let Augusta know that we’ll catch this guy and keep him locked up good and tight. I’ll let my shift officers know what happened and tell them to be on the alert. As soon as we find King, we’ll let you know. There’s not too many places he could hide.”

  “Good, Sergeant, very good.”

  The line went dead. Sergeant Franklin picked up his dispatcher microphone. He clicked the button and turned the squelch knob so it wouldn’t squeal. “Hey, Gary, you awake?”

  A voice crackled in the speaker. “Very funny, Sarge. It’s freezing out here. We’re shaking so hard we’re keeping each other awake. Just driving around keeping the car warm and waiting for this miserable shift to be over. What’s up?”

  “Just got a call from the St. Clair place. Seems as though they had an attempted kidnapping by a disgruntled ex-boyfriend of Gerald’s new wife. He got away, and he’s on foot. The security man said he was probably headed into town—tall, blond kid with a beard. And don’t take any chances. He got in a fight with one of the guards out there and beat him up, so consider him dangerous.”

  “Right, Sarge. I just passed the St. Clair place and I’m coming in on Field Point Road now. We’ll check along the road all the way into town.”

  *****

  Daniel King walked down the road toward Greenwich. He was still in shock from the events of an hour before. The snow had started again and it was bitter cold. The lights of a car approaching from the direction of the St. Clair estate reflected off the trees ahead of him. This part of Field Point Road was a little wilder with trees growing right down to the road. Daniel slipped into a clump of shrubs under the trees and waited for the car to go by. It was going slowly and someone was shining flashlights into the trees on both sides of the road. Suddenly, Daniel’s insides twisted and his heart started pounding.

  Maybe it’s those men. They’re looking for someone!

  Daniel drew back into the heart of the shrubs. The car pulled up nearby and stopped with the motor running. It was a police car. Relief swept over Daniel. He was about to step out when he heard something in his spirit.

  Stop!

  He stopped dead in his tracks. Then he heard the radio crackle and a tinny voice came on.

  “Gary, Augusta wants this Daniel King picked up and put on ice. If he puts up a fight, use whatever force is necessary to stop him. Do you understand me?”

  “Sure, Sarge, I get you. A tough customer, eh?”

  “Yes, and according to their man, Randall, very dangerous. So when I say whatever force is necessary, that’s what I mean. Don’t take any chances. If he struggles, defend yourself.”

  “Okay, Sarge.”

  Daniel moved quietly back into the bushes and then peeked through the branches. The police car was about fifteen feet away. He could see the officer take his gun out of his holster and chamber a round.

  They’re working for Augusta, too! They would kill me if they had to.

  Daniel pushed further back into the brush and stood as still as he could. The two officers in the car swept their flashlights over the sides of the road and then drove slowly on toward town. Daniel watched them go and then crept out of his hiding place.

  Augusta has this town under her thumb. Lord, I need help.

  Suddenly Daniel remembered Willy, the stationmaster.

  Willy liked me. And he didn’t seem too fond of Augusta St. Clair. Maybe he can help me.

  Daniel headed toward town. He stayed along the edges of the road in the shadows, carefully watching for more cars as he went.

  *****

  Willy was nodding in his chair in front of a decrepit old television set in the office at the Old Greenwich station when he was awakened by a noise. At first he thought it was the wind rattling the windows, but then he heard it again.

  Tap! Tap! Tap!

  He swiveled around in his chair. There was someone at the side door. Willy got up slowly and shuffled over to the door. He looked through the glass. It was the young man that he had sent out to the St. Clair estate. Quickly, he opened the door. “Well, well! Dan-David. What are you doing here at this hour? Come in, before I lose all the heat in the room.”

  Willy pulled Daniel inside and slammed the door behind him. Then he turned to look at the young man. “You don’t look so good. What’s going on?”

  Daniel sank down on a bench that was against the wall. “I’m in trouble, Willy. But worse than that, my friend Rachel is in great danger. They’re going to kill her. I’ve got
to help her.”

  “Whoa, hold on boy! Who’s going to kill her?”

  Daniel put his head in his hands. “Augusta and her professional killer, Gordon Randall.”

  Willy shook his head. “Now, son, you’re a little upset...”

  “But I’m not crazy, Willy. I’m an old friend of Rachel’s. I’ve been kind of...well, watching over her. Gerald recognized me from when we met in Paradise. But he didn’t turn me in. He was terrified of his grandmother and her killers. He told me everything. They tried to make him help them, but he couldn’t go through with it. We were going to get her out of there tonight, but they caught on to us. There was a guy waiting in Rachel’s room. He almost killed me, but I got away. I think he’s dead.”

  Willy looked at Daniel closely and then went to the cupboard and got down a mug. He poured a cup of coffee from an old ceramic pot on a hotplate on the counter and handed it to Daniel. “Drink this, boy. Tell me your real name, and then start from the beginning.”

  Daniel took the coffee gratefully and then told Willy everything that had happened since he went to work for the St. Clairs. When he got to the part about being attacked in Rachel’s bedroom and the death of his assailant, Willy’s eyebrows went up and he whistled. Then Daniel told him about the conversation he had heard on the police radio.

  “Right, Oliver Cromwell Franklin and his local thugs. Those boys are sold out to Augusta St. Clair—have been for years. They’ll do anything Augusta asks.”

  Daniel put down his mug. “Willy, I have to call Sheriff Bobby Halverson. He lives at the Hershberger place in Paradise. That’s Rachel’s folks. He’s an ex-cop and a decorated World War II vet. He’ll know what to do.”

  Willy pointed to the wall by his desk. “Phone’s right over there, Daniel.” Just then, the lights of a car pulling up in front of the station flashed on the wall. Willy looked out the window. Quickly, he turned back and whispered to Daniel. “It’s Gary Parkins, Franklin’s right-hand man. You gotta get out of here. There’s no place to hide. Go to my place on Railroad Street—number 432.” Willy reached in his pocket. “Here’s the key. Go out the back, cut down by the pizza place and keep walking. It’s on the corner a block down. Do you have the number for this Sheriff Halverson?”

  “I don’t. You’ll have to call information. He lives on Old Leacock Road in Paradise, Pennsylvania. His name is spelled H-a-l-v-e-r-s-o-n. You have to help, Willy.”

  Willy could see a flashlight approaching the front of the station. “I’ll call him, Daniel. Now go, quick! Before these morons catch you.” He shoved Daniel out the back door and went and sat down at his desk.

  Just then the door opened and Gary Parkins called out. “Willy? Willy? You in here?”

  “I’m in the back where it’s warm, Officer Parkins.” Willy glanced out the window. Daniel was gone.

  Part Three

  A Wind from the Sea

  Mighty Angels of grace and hope

  lift the heart of the sailor

  and the fear that claimed his heart,

  The tossing storm waves that carried him away,

  Fade like the morning mist and are no more...

  A sea change carries him back to shore,

  Now from the crest of a wave he sees the haven

  and his dear wife and child waiting by the fireside.

  Home from the Sea—From The Journals of Jenny Hershberger

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  First Light

  The single lamp on the desk shed a soft light in the room. Rachel St. Clair lay on the bed. Her head throbbed and her stomach churned. Her hair was plastered to her brow and her pajamas were soaked with sweat. She groaned and tried to sit up, but the room began to spin and she almost threw up. She collapsed back on the bed.

  “Help me, Lord...please help me!”

  Rachel!

  Rachel’s parched lips moved and she whispered an answer.

  “Is that you, Lord?”

  Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.

  Then the lamp seemed to flood the room with brilliance. Rachel reached her hand toward the light.

  “Danki, leiber Gott!”

  Then the light dimmed again and Rachel faded into darkness.

  *****

  Willy looked up to see Officer Gary Parkins standing on the customer side of the counter. Willy nodded. “It’s a little early to be buying a ticket isn’t it, Gary?”

  “I’m not here for a ticket, Willy, so you can keep your smart remarks to yourself. I’m looking for...” Parkins glanced down at a piece of paper in his hand and then back up. “I’m looking for a guy named Daniel King. He attempted to kidnap Rachel St. Clair out at the St. Clair mansion. He got in a brawl with the security guards and escaped, and we’re trying to close up all the ways he could get out of town. Seen any strangers around tonight?”

  “Nope. Haven’t seen any strangers at all tonight.”

  “Well, when’s the next train due?”

  “Two hours from now. What’s this stranger look like?”

  “He’s tall—blond hair and a short, blond beard. He was wearing jeans, a navy pea coat and a black watch cap. He’s strong and desperate. We consider him very dangerous.”

  “Yeah, officer, he must be if he fought his way off the estate. I’ll keep an eye out, and let you know if anything unusual happens.”

  “Okay, Willy. Say, you got a snort in that desk of yours for a policeman who needs to warm up a little?”

  Willy shook his head. “Sorry, officer. I gave up drinking last week. Doctor’s orders.”

  Officer Parkins mumbled something under his breath and then headed for the door. On his way out he stopped and looked at Willy. “Don’t forget to call me if anything unusual happens.” The door slammed shut.

  Willy watched as the police car drove away. Then he reached into his drawer and pulled out a small bottle of Southern Comfort. He took a pull and put it back. A big smile creased his face. “Yeah, right, officer. I’ll call you when I really quit drinking.”

  Willy waited until the lights of the police car disappeared. He looked at the clock on the wall. It was 5 a.m. Then he picked up the phone and dialed information. The operator came on.

  “Information, what city, please?”

  “Operator, I need the number for Bobby Halverson in Paradise, Pennsylvania.”

  “How do you spell that, please?”

  “Halverson, H-a-l-v-e-r-s-o-n.”

  “Thank you, just a moment please.”

  Willy waited.

  “That number is 717-687-2233.”

  “Thank you, operator.”

  “You’re very welcome, sir. Have a nice day.”

  Willy dialed the number. It rang four times. “Come on, Sheriff! Pick up! Pick up!” The phone clicked over to an answering device. Willy’s heart sank.

  “Hi! This is Bobby Halverson. I’m not in right now, but leave me a message and I’ll get right back—” In the middle of the message, there was a click and a voice came on the line. “Bobby Halverson, it’s too early to be calling. What do you want?”

  Willy almost cheered. “Sheriff Halverson, this is Willy Oxendine. I’m the stationmaster at the Old Greenwich train station and I’m a friend of Daniel King. He’s in serious trouble here in Connecticut. Something about how the St. Clairs are trying to murder his friend Rachel. You have to come here immediately. Rachel is very sick and Daniel says she doesn’t have much time. The police here are hirelings of the St. Clairs. They won’t help Daniel and, in fact, are looking for him to throw him in jail. I have him hidden but they have the dragnet out for him...”

  The bleary voice on the other end of the line interrupted. “Whoa, go a little slower, Willy. I just woke up. Now what’s this about Daniel and Rachel?”

  Willy took a breath. “Daniel King came into the station early this morning. He was on the run. He was working at the St.
Clair place, kinda keeping an eye on Rachel, he said, and he found out about a plot to kill Rachel for her money. So he tried to rescue her but they were on to him. He barely got away. He’s says they’re poisoning Rachel and she’s only got a few more hours left. I can’t call the local police because they all work for Augusta. Can you get up here?”

  “I hope this isn’t a joke, Willy.”

  “Honest, Sheriff, it’s all true. My phone number is 203-525-4415. I met Daniel a few weeks ago. I got him the job out there. He’s a good kid and I know he’s not telling me a lie. You’ve got to help him, Sheriff.”

  “Okay, I’m coming up there. Should take me about three hours. When I get there, I’ll make some phone calls and see if I can get some help. In the meantime, where is Daniel?”

  “I have him hidden at my house. Meet me at the station. It’s right downtown. Then I’ll take you to him.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you soon.”

  The line went dead.

  *****

  Jenny Hershberger sat on the sofa in front of the fire. A bitter cold had engulfed Pennsylvania, and the fire fought weakly against it. A great heaviness crushed down upon Jenny, and she did not know why. She had awakened at midnight with a deep need to pray for Rachel. She left the bedroom and came out to the front where she had been weeping and praying ever since. Finally, she went to the shelf and brought down her mama’s old Bible. She opened it to the flyleaf.

  Jerusha Hershberger 1937, From her grandmother, Hannah Hershberger

  There was great comfort in holding the old Bible. Her mama and her grossmutter had both held this book. It was as though they were in the room to comfort her. Her fingers moved over the worn pages, and without looking for any verse in particular, she flipped open a page. It was Proverbs. Her eye caught the first verse on the page.

  Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.

  In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.

  Jenny looked in wonder at the verse. It was as though du leiber Gott had spoken directly to her heart. She sighed and put the Bible down.