Plain Retribution

by Dana R. Lynn

  Rebecca had been telling herself from the moment she’d met him that the attraction she felt for the sincere police officer was useless. Her past had left her damaged, and with unsightly scars. When Miles had seen her scars and not been repulsed, she had allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was hope.

  But he was a police officer. A man who would always put himself in danger to help others. She had gone back and forth with herself over whether or not she could deal with his choice of career. Because it was obvious to her that being a policeman was his God-given calling. Which was something she could never challenge.

  Now, it seemed, she wasn’t going to have a chance to decide if she could accept it. He had told her point-blank that he didn’t do relationships. Which meant that he, too, had experienced attraction on some level. Experienced it and decided against it.

  How dare he make that decision for both of them? The heat of the blush on her face wasn’t just caused by anger. She remembered the way she had embraced him when he’d come in. The warmth of his arms had made her feel so safe. Cared for. Had she imagined it?

  No! He’d hugged her back, just as fiercely. But he insisted on acting like it didn’t matter.

  Well, she definitely wasn’t going to be able to sleep. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she slid forward until her feet touched the wooden floor. And immediately snatched them up again. It had been a long time since she’d set her bare feet on cold wooden floors. Not since she’d left home. Her parents’ plain house didn’t have a single inch of carpeting in it. Her mam and dat believed that was too fancy. She was used to that once, but had long since developed a liking for warm, soft rugs protecting her feet from cold floors first thing in the morning.

  Feeling foolish for letting such a silly thing stop her, she slapped her feet down again and ignored the discomfort. But only until she’d snagged a clean pair of socks from her bag.

  Next, she grabbed her laptop. Hurrying back to the bed, she booted it up and logged on to the Erie Times News. Nothing interesting on the front page of the paper’s website. It was all election news. People were still in shock that Seth’s dad was retiring from his job as a senator. The opponents for the open seat were vicious in their attacks of each other.

  Bored, she logged on to her Facebook account and started to scroll down the news feed. After a few minutes, she stopped. Stared.

  Time stood still. For a few moments, she couldn’t take it in. There had to be a mistake.

  But there it was in full color. Brooke’s picture. She was smiling and carefree. Someone had posted an article. Local Missionary Vanishes Upon Return.

  A sick churning started in her stomach as she read the story carefully. Brooke had returned from her mission trip. There were witnesses that she had been picked up from the airport by her mother. For the next day, her parents had organized a welcome-home party for her. She never showed up.

  But the connection had been made. The article went into detail about the abduction from years earlier, and the fate and whereabouts of each of the other girls today.

  Horrified, she started to read the comments. Some were sympathetic, some not so much. And one made her blood turn to ice.

  Someone had written “I hope the last girl is ok. I saw her. She was dropped off at my neighbor’s house. They’re deaf, too.”

  How hard would it be to find out where the woman lived and who was deaf on her street?

  She couldn’t stay here! Miles’s uncle and grandparents weren’t safe with her around!

  Without conscious thought, she grabbed the laptop and flew through the empty hallway and down the stairs. She tripped on the last stair. Pain seared through her foot as her big toe was bent back. She didn’t even slow down.

  Miles was asleep on the couch, his arm flung over his eyes as he slept.

  Halting beside the couch, she yelled out.

  Miles jackknifed up off the couch, his eyes wild. His left hand was at his waist, about where his gun usually was. He sank back down when he saw her, his head falling to lean against the back of the couch. She could see his chest rise as he drew in a deep breath.

  “Rebecca.” His greeting was remarkably calm, considering she’d just terrified him. “Is something wrong?”

  Instead of answering, she thrust the open computer into his arms. The screen was blank, so she toggled the mouse button to bring the article back up.

  She pointed at the post, then yanked her arm back when her finger trembled. Even as she watched, another comment popped up.

  Miles reached out and grabbed her hand before she could tuck it behind her back. He pulled her down to sit beside him, looping his arm around her shoulders, and hauled her closer so she was snuggled up against his side. She dropped her head on his shoulder, drained. He set the computer on the coffee table in front of him.

  He was just comforting her, she reminded herself. She shouldn’t read anything into this. Yet she couldn’t stop herself from snuggling just a little closer. Nor did she complain when his arm squeezed her shoulders briefly in response.

  He scoured the post, never removing his protective hold from her. She didn’t complain, but angled her head up so she could see his face. The hair that always seemed to need a haircut was once again flopped on his forehead. In contrast, the rest of face had tightened. As his gaze skimmed down the post to read the growing list of comments, she could feel the clasp around her shoulder grow taut. In fact, Miles practically vibrated with tension.

  She finally had to protest as his grip around her shoulders became unbearable. Shifting in his hold, she brought his attention back to her.

  His arm loosened, although it didn’t move away completely. His mouth softened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to squeeze so hard,” he signed one-handed.

  Her chest tightened when his gaze roamed her face, then landed on her lips. Her breathing hitched. Could he hear her heartbeat race? The hard thud, thud of her pulse vibrated in her throat.

  “I don’t think I need to tell you that this isn’t a safe place for you anymore,” he signed.

  “I know. But what about your grandparents? Your uncle? If the killer thinks I’m staying here, they’ll still be at risk, even if I leave.” She would never forgive herself if something happened to these kind people because of their generosity to her.

  “I am going to encourage them to go stay with friends for a few days. Not that I think they’re in trouble. So far no one has been hurt if you weren’t around.” She winced at that. Ouch. “I think our man’s too smart for that. After all, he’s avoided being caught up to now.”

  “Where will I go?”

  It broke her heart, but she knew he’d probably put her in some safe place far away. Which meant her brother would get married without her being there. And, she jolted at the thought, she’d be left in someone else’s care, away from Miles.

  She wasn’t ready to part with him. The emotional twang she experienced was almost a physical pain. She might never be ready to part with him. Policeman or not.

  She braced herself.

  * * *

  Man, she was getting tense. Miles thought she’d break apart if she grew any stiffer.

  “You’re going to stay with me.” Her posture drooped. Had she been worried he’d push her off onto someone else? Even if he’d wanted to, which he didn’t, he knew the department was stretched to its full capacity right now. The chief was planning on hiring two new officers, but had not been able to yet. So until further notice, he was on Rebecca detail.

  The fact that he wanted to smile at the thought worried him, but he pushed it aside. Right now, she was only one step away from being captured and killed.

  He prayed urgently that it wasn’t too late for Brooke.

  “I need to talk with Brooke’s family again, and I can’t leave you here. We’ll go as soon as you are packed and
we eat. And I need to talk with my family.”

  An hour later, she was packed and ready to go. Miles had talked with his grandparents and uncle and explained the situation. Gran was unruffled, and entirely unwilling to impose on any of their friends. When he’d tried to convince her, she’d simply shrugged, then signed, “The Lord will protect us. He always has.”

  Miles scratched his head. The urge to kick something was very strong. Until he saw Rebecca smile, her face soft and amused.

  “What’s so funny?” he signed, curiosity getting the better of him.

  “Your grandmother. She reminds me of my mam.” She signed mother. He automatically translated it to mam in his head, remembering her explanation of the Amish word for mother. “Mam and Dat never let anything shake their trust in God.”

  “Would your parents let you convince them to move to a safe house?” he asked, his signs sharper than intended.

  “No. They would not. They would consider this all part of the fancy world, and wouldn’t let it bother them.”

  Great. Now his girl was encouraging them.

  His girl? No way did he just think that. But he did.

  His uncle surprised them. “I texted my brother. He is going to let us stay with him for as long we need to.”

  His jaw dropped. He couldn’t help it. “What? My dad is letting you stay with him?”

  His dad was a bit of a recluse. He didn’t appreciate others in his private space. Even when Miles visited him, he was tolerated for only a day before his dad started making hints that it was time for him to leave.

  “I can be persuasive when I need to be,” his uncle signed back, a satisfied smirk settling over his features.

  They couldn’t afford to waste more time on idle chitchat. Miles hugged his family and then signed to Rebecca that it was time to go. It was just past eight fifteen when they finally hit the road.

  Just in time to hit rush hour, he fumed an hour later.

  Still, they managed to arrive at Brooke’s parents’ house by ten. Brooke’s teenage brother answered the door, the pale cast to his skin proof of the horror the family was living through. Poor kid. No one should have to deal with this sort of anguish. No one.

  The family wasn’t alone. A woman in her forties with graying red hair sat next to Brooke’s mother on the sofa, an arm around the weeping woman, and standing off to the side...

  “That’s April! My boss!” Rebecca signed.

  April’s face went ashen as she saw Miles in his police uniform. “Have they found her?” she gasped out, clearly expecting the worst.

  All talking ceased. Brooke’s parents, two brothers and both women focused on Miles. His heart broke a little for the mother, who was staring at him, hope and dread fighting for dominance on her face. He hoped he never had to give her the information she feared, his stepmother’s ravaged expression in his mind.

  He sent Rebecca an apologetic glance. She nodded. He had told her in the car that he wouldn’t be able to sign to her. Technically, she shouldn’t even be in the room.

  “No, Mrs. Cole. I have no new information. We are still searching for your daughter. I hate to bother you at this difficult time. But I may have a lead that is connected to Brooke’s disappearance. If I might have a few minutes of your time?”

  “Officer, anything you need to help us get our daughter back, just name it,” Brooke’s father said. Harold Cole. That was his name. And his wife was Susan.

  When invited, Miles sat on the empty chair near the window, ignoring the dog hairs that were sure to stick like glue to his spotless uniform. He was aware of Rebecca remaining out of the way in the doorway. Brooke’s parents looked her way, but didn’t say anything about her.

  “When I talked with you several days ago, you never mentioned Brooke was coming home.”

  “We didn’t know,” Susan Cole replied. “She called us to say there was some sort of unrest where she was, and she was being sent home. She called us from her layover at Cleveland. We barely had time to get her.”

  “Do you have any idea who could be responsible?” Harold asked.

  “Yes, sir. We have reason to believe Terry Gleason had a half brother he was separated from when they were children—a man who might want revenge in his brother’s honor. Have you noticed any strange men around lately?”

  He could tell they were trying their best to think of anything that could help, but no one seemed to have noticed anything. After a few minutes, he concluded that there didn’t seem to be anything new to be gained.

  Before he left, he turned to April. “Miss Long?”

  She startled. “Yes, officer?”

  “I know that Rebecca works for you. May I ask how you are related to the family here?”

  April didn’t answer. The woman on the couch did. She looked like April. “Susan and I are stepsisters. Brooke and April are cousins.”

  His former suspicions regarding April returned. It was too much of a coincidence that she knew two of the victims. He wondered if she had anything else to hide. It wasn’t something he wanted to get into now, not in front of the devastated family, but he intended to talk with her.

  A few minutes later, he rose from his seat. “Mr. Cole. Mrs. Cole. Thank you for your time today. I give you my word that I will do everything possible to get your daughter back to you.” Hopefully, alive. No need to say that part aloud. Nor did he deem it necessary to admit that he had a personal reason for wanting to catch this fellow immediately. Or that his personal reason was the beautiful blonde standing in the doorway, waiting for him.

  He followed her back to his car, his hand on her shoulder as his gaze darted around the street in a continuous sweep. Arriving at the car, he opened the passenger-side door and waited while she stepped into the car.

  Nearby, he heard an engine rev. An orange car sped around the corner. Miles pushed Rebecca’s head down. The car approached. A gun was in the driver’s hand. Miles had his gun out and was aiming for the tires.

  Without warning, the driver dropped his arm and sped away.

  What? Why hadn’t he shot?

  Miles caught the first four characters of the license plate. Punching the button on his radio, he reported the details to the dispatcher. He also was able to tell her the make and model of the car. “The driver is armed and dangerous.”

  It shouldn’t take them that long to identify the plate, if it belonged to that car.

  “Who was that? Was he holding a gun?”

  Miles spun around. April was standing five feet away, her face drawn and ashen. Did she think she was going to get hurt? Or did she have another reason for being so upset?

  Whatever her reason was, he now thought he knew what had sent the driver racing away without finishing his quest. Given his prior behavior, Miles would have expected the man to kill him and take Rebecca. Although if she had died, the perp probably wouldn’t have cared. Miles figured that he was expendable because he was obviously searching for the attacker’s identity.

  Well, he wasn’t going to stop now. He would keep searching, looking under every possible rock, in order to protect Rebecca. And if he ended up getting hurt saving her, it would be worth it.

  His radio crackled back to life. “Officer Olsen? We have the make and model of the car. It is registered to a Nicole Weller.”

  Nicole Weller. Looks like he’d just found his next rock to overturn.

  “Great job. Where is this Nicole Weller located?”

  THIRTEEN

  You know something’s wrong when you see an Amish man at the police station.

  Miles took a swig of Mountain Dew and screwed the cap back on without taking his eyes off the man. Levi Miller—Rebecca’s brother. He remembered him well. It had only been four months since Miles had last seen him. He still remembered Levi’s petrified expression as he had sat beside Reb
ecca while she drove. Well, to be fair, she was driving very fast at the time.

  What was he doing at the station? The Amish community didn’t go seeking outside help. Unless it was an emergency.

  Levi saw him and made a beeline for Miles’s desk. Miles raised his eyebrows before he managed to hide his response. One of these days he’d learn to control his features. It was just natural to let his face and body language speak for him. That’s what happened when one was partially raised by deaf grandparents.

  “Officer Olsen.” The Amish man halted in front of his desk.

  “Mr. Miller. How can I help you?”

  “My sister Rebecca is missing.”

  “Missing?” Oh, wait. He’d never even thought of the fact that there would be no phone at the Miller home, no way to send them a message to let them know she was all right, short of going there to tell them in person. “She’s not missing. She’s here at the moment.”

  Levi let out a loud sigh. Miles knew relief when he heard it, and felt his own guilt grow in response. He should have contacted them to let them know they didn’t need to be worried about her. “That is gut. I was worried about her. She hasn’t contacted the family since Wednesday. I went over to see her at her apartment. She wasn’t there. I went to where she works, and the store was closed. Not even Jess could tell me where she was. Only that she was fine, and I needed to come and see you.”

  Miles smiled at the man. The family might have trouble communicating with her sometimes, but it was very clear that they loved her dearly.

  “She’s here, in the conference room. I’ll take you to her.” Miles tossed down the pen he’d been fiddling with and stood, indicating that Levi should come with him. “I moved her to a safe location. Until the situation is under control, I don’t want her to be alone.” As concisely as possible, Miles explained what had happened over the past several days.