Plain Retribution. Dana R. Lynn

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      “Yeah. I grew up with it.” He tilted his head. “Do you regret leaving?”

      “No. I love my family, and I am grateful to still have a relationship with them. In fact, my oldest brother, Levi, is getting married in a week. On Thursday. I will be there. But someday, I want to get married, and I want my husband to be able to communicate with me. And if I have deaf children, I want them to have full access to the deaf community.” She moved away a couple of feet. Restless. “Want to know what was really sad? Until a few years ago, I never even knew that Amish children say ‘mam and dat,’ instead of ‘mom and dad.’” She finger-spelled the Amish versions of the words. “I’ve never been good at lipreading, and wasn’t able to really see the difference when I watched my siblings say the words. In my head, I always see the sign for ‘mother and father,’ but when I wrote, I wrote ‘mom and dad.’ Like the other kids at school. Levi read something I had written a few years back and pointed it out to me. He also took the time to teach me the written words and meanings of some of the other Amish words that were used daily, but that I never knew. I have taken pains to try to think of them as mam and dat, knowing that’s how they would prefer to be called, but it wasn’t automatic for me.”

      The urge to touch her hand, to offer comfort, sneaked up on him. He resisted. But it was difficult. The aloneness emanating from her posture as she signed just about killed him.

      She’s not alone now, he reminded himself. She has friends in the deaf community. She has her faith. And her family does love her.

      And she has me.

      No. She doesn’t. I’m temporary. And I have stayed too long.

      Lifting his wrist, he eyed the time on his digital watch. And whistled. It was later than he had thought.

      “I need to go. Text me if you need anything,” he signed with one hand, pocketing the phone. “And lock the door behind you.”

      She rolled her eyes, but complied without comment.

      The second she had closed and locked the door, he was on his way to the station. It would take him twenty minutes to get there. If he worked fast, he should be able to have all his reports filed and all his duties completed by the time his shift ended at midnight. Unless, of course, another call came in. Wednesday nights were usually pretty quiet in LaMar Pond. He should be good.

      An hour and a half later, he finished his reports.

      With his work completed, his mind turned back to Rebecca. Had her roommate arrived home yet? Maybe he should send her a text to check on her. He quickly shot off a text.

      Then he occupied himself while pretending he wasn’t watching for a responding text. None came. No doubt her roommate had returned. She was no longer alone. Wilting back against his seat, he let out a sigh. It was after eleven thirty. Chances were good that she was asleep, or that she and her roommate were talking about the night’s events and not paying attention to the phone.

      Everything was fine.

      But it wouldn’t hurt to check on her in the morning, just to be sure.

      * * *

      Rebecca came awake with a start, heart pounding. Her hands flew to her throat—she could still feel hands closing around it. But as awareness seeped back in, she realized it was just a dream. No one was attacking her. She sat up, knocking a pillow off the couch in the process. A wave of dizziness attacked her. Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply until the dizziness passed. When she could open her eyes again, she frowned. She was still in her skirt from work. She had fallen asleep after texting with her brother.

      He didn’t have a phone, so she had used the videophone to call one of her parents’ neighbors who had agreed to let Rebecca’s family know what had happened and that she was fine. Which had resulted in a long conversation with her brother. It took some doing, but she finally convinced him that she was okay and didn’t need anyone to come to LaMar Pond.

      A quick glance at the clock showed it was just past six in the morning.

      She hadn’t intended to spend the night on the couch. Why had Holly let her sleep? Her roommate usually woke her up if she fell asleep there. The couch was for sitting, not for sleeping. Holly had very definite views about that. So why change?

      Rebecca stood and groaned as her back protested. Good grief, she was twenty-five, not seventy-five. She smiled at her silliness, then turned toward the bedrooms.

      And every trace of her smile was wiped from her face.

      Holly’s door was wide open. As if Holly wasn’t home.

      Fear in her throat, Rebecca moved on leaden feet to the bedroom and flicked on the light.

      The bed was made. Not a thing was out of place. The room was perfect. It made Rebecca’s blood run cold.

      Holly had never come home.

      Her phone! There could be a text waiting for her. Maybe Holly had decided to visit her sister again. She had done it before.

      Rebecca knew she was reaching. Holly always came home when she had class the next day. She worked so hard to keep her grades up at the small liberal arts college she attended—she wouldn’t risk that to go visit her party-all-night sister. Except, sometimes Laurie hit rock bottom and pleaded with Holly until she felt guilty and went over. So there was a small chance. A very small chance, but it was the only hope Rebecca had to hold on to.

      She hit the button on her phone and her heart thudded in her chest. One notification. She pressed the text icon. It was from Miles, sent late last night. Any warmth she might have felt that he had checked on her was drowned out by the knowledge that Holly hadn’t sent her a text. Holly always sent a text if she would be late. She knew how much Rebecca worried. Holly worried just as much about any situation where Rebecca might be in harm’s way. And why shouldn’t she? She’d been there. They both had. For days, they had sat together, shackled in the dark, locked in that same small room. Waiting, as terror fogged their minds while hunger gnawed at their bellies.

      But Holly and Rebecca had survived. Not all of them had.

      Jasmine Winters hadn’t made it out in time. She’d been strangled, mere hours before the police had broken through the basement door. They had all wondered who would be next...

      No!

      Rebecca squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her fists as she pushed that memory out of her mind. The darkness that tried to ooze into her mind didn’t belong there. Not anymore. She’d banished that years ago, when she’d testified. When she and the other girls had put away their captor.

      The memory of the trial made her shiver more. Would she never forget the face of their tormentor? He had been on his way to prison, and still he had held such control over the women he had terrorized. And he had known it.

      He had control over her still—was still the face in her nightmares. What should she do?

      Miles! He would probably check to see if she had responded to his earlier text. And he was a police officer. He’d know what to do about Holly.

      Unlocking her phone, she pulled up his text. Her fingers trembled as she tapped out a message of her own, explaining the situation. She curled her lip as the auto correct kicked in, messing up a word of her message. She erased the word СКАЧАТЬ