by Alison Stone
Hannah’s raspy breaths sounded in her ears.
She moved behind the railing on the porch, and thankfully, Lester didn’t advance on her.
He lifted his beefy hand and pointed at the door. “Sarah needs to come home with me where she belongs.”
Hannah shook her head. “She belongs with me.”
A second man emerged from the shadows. Hannah froze, wide-eyed. The man’s arms came around fast and furious. He brought a board down on Lester’s head before Hannah could get a scream across her dry lips.
Lester went down in a silent heap, not knowing what hit him.
“She belongs among us.” Willard Fisher’s angry snarl registered under the moonlight. Fear rained down on her, hot and tingly. Hannah spun around to get inside. Lock the door.
Willard dove, and his hand wrapped around her ankles and she landed with an oomph on the porch, the air rushing out of her lungs. She opened her mouth to warn Sarah, to tell her to close the door, lock the door, but she couldn’t catch a breath.
Willard yanked her by the ankles. Her body thumped down the stairs. Her ribs. Her elbow. Her hip.
Hannah violently shook and twisted her body, trying to free her ankles from Willard’s brutal grasp. She thought she heard a mischievous laugh as he dragged her around the side of the house into the darkness.
SIXTEEN
Spencer pulled into the Lapps’ dirt driveway, his headlights arcing across the darkened home. The memory of Sarah’s frantic sobs over the phone rang in his ears. Hannah’s in trouble. A trail of sweat ran between his shoulder blades. He pushed open his door and aimed the flashlight around the yard. The beam of light hit on a prone form.
For an instant, his heart stuttered, then his brain kicked in. It wasn’t Hannah. It was a man, an Amish man. Walking toward the body, he swept the flashlight around the yard.
No one else in sight.
Aware of his surroundings, he crouched. Lester Lapp lay unconscious with his nose mashed into the dirt. Spencer pressed his fingers to Lester’s neck. His pulse was steady.
Had Hannah knocked out Lester? His pulse ticked up a notch. What if she hadn’t?
He strained to listen for sounds of distress. Nothing but crickets.
The headlights from his vehicle stretched to the front porch. The front door was open, and a little girl stepped out. He had to squint to realize it was Sarah.
“Stay on the porch.” He held up his hand and scanned the area. The adrenaline surge heightened all his senses. The scene was different, but the feelings were the same. Little Daniel had died under his watch. Someone had called dispatch from the convenience store. Gangs had gathered in front of the store. By the time he got there, Daniel was dead. An innocent victim.
Spencer blinked back his mounting anxiety. He wasn’t going to let anyone else die.
Spencer moved to the porch and ushered Sarah inside and locked the door behind them. He canvassed the small space. Empty save for Mrs. Wittmer sleeping in her bed.
Back in the sitting area, he crouched in front of Sarah. “Where’s Hannah?”
Every inch of her small frame trembled.
“You’re safe now. Tell me what happened.”
Sarah relayed a story about missing Hannah and then her uncle yelling at her and Hannah got afraid and told her to call him.
That didn’t explain Lester unconscious on the lawn. “Did Hannah and Lester fight?”
Spencer’s nerves hummed as he pried answers out of the frightened girl.
“I heard angry voices. I didn’t see. I hid inside. I’m sorry.” Sarah buried her face in her hands and sobbed.
Spencer nodded, trying to maintain his composure. “I’m going to find Hannah. I want you to lock this door behind me. Do you know how to do that?”
Sarah shook her head. Spencer took pains to show Sarah how to work the lock. He stepped onto the porch and listened to Sarah fasten the lock. He tested the door.
“Stay inside until I come get you. Don’t open this door for anyone except me.”
Sarah didn’t answer, but he was sure she heard him through the thin door. A thin door that wouldn’t hold back anyone determined to get in. But he feared the person who had been here already had the person he wanted.
Spencer cast the beam of the flashlight around the yard, and that’s when he saw it: a pink bandanna had been discarded at the corner of the house. Heart beating loudly in his ears, he strode toward the bandanna. Hannah had had one in her hair earlier.
When he reached the corner of the house, he saw nothing but grass stretching toward the neighbor’s cornfields. His heart sank.
Hannah could be anywhere.
* * *
“If you scream, I’ll make it worse. I’ll go back into that house and make that disobedient child remember the rules,” Willard growled as he lumbered across the yard, dragging Hannah by one ankle.
Hannah bit back a gasp. Willard’s strong fingers dug into her flesh. The more she fought and thrashed about, the more pain shot up her legs and thighs.
Panic and fear clouded her brain. Her back and arms bounced off the uneven earth. Her body flipped and she braced her fists against the earth to protect her head, her face.
Dear Lord, help me. Help me...
Tears burned the backs of her eyes, and she drew in a deep breath. Willard dragged her into the cornfields. Stalks whacked her arms, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the assault.
No one will find me out here. Please Lord, spare me. Don’t take me away from Sarah and Emma. Please...
Willard stopped and in one quick swoop, pressed his knee into her back, crushing the air from her lungs. He leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “You couldn’t just leave. Neh, you had to force your worldly ways on all of us. You are no better than your sister.”
Hannah briefly closed her eyes and fought the wave of grief that washed over her. She focused instead on the pain radiating out from where his knee pressed into her spine, channeling it into survival mode.
Willard forced her cheek into the earth. The smell of dried corn and manure plugged her nose. She bit back nausea.
“John couldn’t control her. Ruth needed to be obedient to him.”
Hannah strained to watch Willard out of the corner of her eye. He was watching something, searching. Was someone coming?
“So you killed them? You killed Ruthie...and John?”
Willard pushed her head deeper into the damp earth. Something in her neck cracked. “I did what was necessary to preserve the Amish way. I’ve lived in the outside world. It’s an evil place. The Amish must be ruthless in preserving their quality of life. They must be separate. John had been on my side, but when Ruthie started questioning him, John was weak. He softened his stance. I couldn’t allow her to destroy our plans. To destroy the Amish way of life.”
Willard’s weight and her panic pressed on her chest. “Is murder the Amish way?”
“Shut up.”
“You wrote the note making it look like John had committed suicide?” She spit out a chunk of dirt.
“Yah. Yet you still wouldn’t leave. I thought once you knew John wasn’t coming back, you’d hand the children over to a good Amish home.” Willard roughly dragged his fingers through her short hair. “A woman’s hair is her glory. You...” He seemed to lose his train of thought, pushing harder on her back. Hannah sucked in shallow breaths as tiny stars danced in her line of vision.
“You corrupted my son. You corrupted your nieces. Your death is one small sacrifice to make things right.”
“No...no.” Hannah’s brain whirled, but she couldn’t form the words, the words to plead for her life.
“But Lester...” She couldn’t think straight.
“Lester never saw what hit him. Even he couldn’t make his brother see the lig
ht.” He laughed, a mirthless sound. “The brothers came to blows in town when John got the foolish idea to leave the farm for other work. What fools.”
“The sheriff—”
“The sheriff’s office is incompetent. It took them ten years to solve Mary Miller’s disappearance, remember that?”
The delight in his words made her blood run cold. “Don’t underestimate Sheriff Maxwell. He’ll find you.”
Willard leaned in close. “Some things are worth the sacrifice.” Stale breath washed over her and made her gag.
Willard shifted his weight, and Hannah rolled, just far enough to fall out of the cornfield and onto the open field. She filled her lungs with fresh air.
Willard lunged for her, his features contorted in anger. She rolled again and scrambled to her feet. He grabbed her by her hair and yanked. “You’re not getting away.”
“No!” The word ripped from her throat.
* * *
The beam of Spencer’s flashlight landed on Hannah as she furiously tried to wiggle free from Willard Fisher’s grasp.
Tightening his hold on his gun, Spencer bolted across the yard. Willard spun Hannah around and wrapped an arm around her neck. “Easy, Englischer.”
Spencer leveled his gun at Willard’s head. “Let her go.” Spencer bit out the words, his breath coming in jagged rasps.
“You wouldn’t shoot an Amish man, would you? Think of all your hard work to mend bridges between law enforcement and the Amish.”
Hannah yanked on Willard’s arm stretched across her chest. Willard flipped out a pocketknife and pressed it against her neck.
“Drop it.”
“I’ll stick her like a pig.” Willard’s gleeful expression twisted Spencer’s gut. His finger twitched on the trigger.
“Dat, neh!” Samuel ran up to Spencer. “Stop!”
“Get back, son,” Spencer said, not taking his eyes from Willard.
Samuel stood his ground. “No. Stop.”
The lines around Willard’s lips grew pinched, agitated. “Go home.”
“No. I will not let you hurt Hannah. She’s done nothing wrong.”
“Her ways are poison. Poison to the Amish ways. Poison to you.”
Samuel shook his head, a maturity about him Spencer had never noticed before. “You have become poison.”
Willard’s face twitched, a mix of grief and rage. His hand loosened around the knife. Spencer took the opening and slammed Willard’s shoulder, knocking him away from Hannah. The knife flew from his grip and landed in the field.
Spencer pushed Willard facedown into the earth and handcuffed him. Spencer dragged him to his feet. Willard rearranged his features into one of smugness.
Hannah stood apart from them, rubbing her neck. Spencer wanted to do nothing more than take her into his arms. Thank God she was safe. But for now, he had to take Willard in to the station.
“He killed Ruth and John.” Hannah’s tone was one of anger and grief.
“No one will believe you.” Willard narrowed his gaze.
“He made me destroy your clothes on the line,” Samuel said, pacing pack and forth. “He made me give Emma and Sarah the cat.” He drew in a ragged breath and glared at his father. “He made me tell them bad things would happen to their kitty if they said anything—” his voice grew quiet “—but he...he burned down the barn. He wanted to punish me for reading in the loft. To punish you, Miss Wittmer. I don’t know what else he’s done. But he’s been obsessed with running you out of town, and he tried to force me to help him. He made me lie and tell you I saw John Lapp out by the barn before it went up in flames.” Samuel bowed his head briefly. “After I ruined your clothes, the guilt was terrible.” The young man sniffed, and his shoulders shook.
“Shut up,” Willard spat out. “You’re a fence jumper, just like the worthless rest of them.”
“Like you, Dat. You left...” Samuel’s stern tone belied his trembling lips. “I wish you never came back.”
A siren grew closer. Spencer pushed Willard in handcuffs toward the driveway. Willard’s chest heaved from unspent anger.
Hannah brushed her hand across Spencer’s forearm. “I’ll go check on Sarah and my mom.” Spencer nodded.
Deputy Sheriff Mark Reynolds’s cruiser bounced up the driveway. Spencer squinted against the glare of the headlights. Mark climbed out, a smirk on his lips. “Looks like you got this one all wrapped up yourself.”
Spencer handed off Willard. “Take care of him. And make sure Lester Lapp receives medical attention.”
“Stupid fool got in my way. He can’t have much more than a big lump and a headache.” Willard shook his head, a look of disgust on his face. “I couldn’t let Lester see what I was about to do. Wrong place, wrong time.”
“Thanks,” Spencer said wryly. “We can add additional assault charges to the long list. Take him,” he said to the officer. “I’ve got something else to handle.”
Mark pushed Willard roughly toward the cruiser. “Wait,” Spencer called out. “How did you get the note in Emma’s backpack?”
Willard narrowed his gaze. “Don’t you want to know if I chopped off her hair first?”
“No, I know you did that because you put the lock of hair with the note in Emma’s bag.” Spencer studied the man’s face in the moonlight. Willard seemed more angry than anything else.
“It wasn’t hard to grab her backpack after she tossed it down when she ran off to the playground. It took two seconds to stuff the envelope in her bag then drop it behind a tree as I strolled away. No one seemed to notice me. Even if they had, they’d only remember seeing an Amish man, not me specifically.” Willard blinked slowly.
Spencer gestured with his chin toward the car. “Now you can take him away.” Spencer watched as Mark stuffed Willard into the backseat of the cruiser. All the tough guy seemed to have drained out of him.
Spencer turned around and cupped Samuel’s shoulder. “You did well, kid.”
Hannah came back outside and made her way across the lawn holding Sarah’s hand. “My mother’s still sleeping,” she said. “The EMT is tending to Lester. He’s conscious, but he’s got a wallop of a headache. He’s refusing to go to the hospital.”
“I’ll make sure he goes,” Spencer said.
Hannah nodded.
Samuel’s features grew pinched, a faraway look in his eyes. “I hate my dat. I hate everything he represents.” He lifted his gaze to Hannah. “I’m sorry.” He held out his hand to Sarah. The young girl leaned her head against Hannah’s side. “I’m sorry I scared you. I would never hurt you or your cat.”
“It’s okay,” Sarah said in a soft voice. “I never saw anyone do anything bad. I never had to keep a secret.”
“Eventually, you will have to find a way to forgive yourself. To forgive your father. To free yourself from the burden.” Hannah’s tone was full of understanding.
Samuel nodded, clearly not convinced.
“I can drive you home, Samuel,” Spencer offered. “Your statement can wait until tomorrow.
“I need to clear my head. I’ll walk home.”
“I’d feel better if I drove you.”
Samuel shook his head. “The evil is gone. I’ll be fine.”
Spencer and Hannah stood in silence as Samuel walked across the field, his shoulders slumped with a burden no son should carry.
Sarah looked up. “May I go inside with Granny?”
“Of course.” Hannah kissed her niece’s forehead, and they watched her run into the house.
Spencer pulled Hannah into an embrace. “I don’t ever want to lose you again.” She pulled back and looked up at him; something flashed across her eyes. A band around his heart squeezed. “I suppose we’ll have to figure out this Amish thing.”
Hannah laughed, a beautiful sou
nd. “I don’t suppose you’ll be converting anytime soon.” She patted his cheek and laughed even louder. “Oh, you should see the look on your face.” She rested her forehead against his shoulder.
“I love you, Hannah Wittmer.”
He held his breath as the silence stretched between them.
Finally, finally, Hannah lifted her head. A slow smile spread across her face. “I love you, too.”
EPILOGUE
Four months later...
Hannah wrapped the scarf around her neck and hustled down the porch steps to wait for the school bus. Winter had hunkered down for the long haul in sleepy little Apple Creek, New York.
The squealing of the bus brakes signaled its approach before she saw its big yellow body rounding the corner. She waved at the bus driver, indicating the new stop. It was the girls’ first day back at the public school.
The bus doors slid open with a whoosh, and Emma appeared in the doorway, looking happy and cute as pie in her matching Hello Kitty hat, scarf and gloves. She hopped off the bus and Hannah planted a kiss on her niece’s cool cheek.
“How was your first day back?”
“My teacher told me I knew just as much as the other kids.” Emma dropped her backpack on the snowy walkway, and Hannah picked it up. “You did a good job teaching us at home.”
Hannah’s heart expanded at Emma’s cheery report. She shifted her gaze toward the bus. Sarah was chatting animatedly to a girl in the front seat. Then she bounded down the stairs. “I met a friend who lives down the street. Do you think we can have a playdate?”
Tears burned the back of Hannah’s eyes. Happy tears. “Of course.” She didn’t bother asking her older niece if she had a good day. It was abundantly clear that she had.
A gust of snow whipped up and drifted under Hannah’s collar. “Let’s get inside. I’ll make us some hot chocolate.”
The girls ran ahead and greeted Mrs. Greene in the foyer as they passed.
“Take your boots off,” Hannah hollered up the stairs as she closed the door behind her.
Mrs. Greene held out a plate. “Here are some chocolate chip cookies to go with that hot chocolate.”
