Plain Secrets. Kit Wilkinson

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СКАЧАТЬ Maybe she had a point.

      Eli covered her as they made their way to the front door. He kept his eyes on the edge of the nearby forest. “Is anyone else home?”

      She shook her head.

      “I’ll go first.” He slipped in front of her and into the house, gun raised. Glass from the broken window had sprayed out across the hardwood floor. Otherwise, the large open space looked untouched. He pulled her in behind him and placed her in a corner away from the open door and window.

      “Stay here while I check upstairs and in the Dawdi Haus.”

      Hannah nodded. Eli ran up the stairs. He checked the bedrooms and single bath of the main cottage. He opened the connecting door leading to the Dawdi or grandparent addition and hurried through the small, attached living space. The entire place was empty.

      “Clear.” He descended to the living room. Hannah was still crouched in the corner. He put away his gun and knelt in front of her. “I’m going to search the woods. Don’t move until I get back.”

      “You’re going back out there?” Her eyes widened.

      He placed his hands on her shoulders, trying to catch one of her nervous glances, but her eyes would not rest. She shook all over. And he didn’t blame her. Someone had just blown out her front window. He hated to leave her, but he had to check the woods. “I’ll be right back. And I’ll keep an eye on the house the whole time.”

      She nodded, her body still trembling and her eyes avoiding his. But he could see the tears in them. As her head sank lower, Elijah’s heart dropped. He hated the fear she was feeling on top of the pain she’d already been through. This wasn’t the time for condolences, but the words burst out anyway.

      “I’m sorry about your daughter. I’m sorry about Jessica.”

      He quietly slid through the front door and took off across the front lawn, finding cover behind an unfinished wooden shed, his car, then an old stone well. His mind spun hard and fast with muddled questions and strange emotions…and Hannah. And he didn’t like any of it one bit.

      At the forest edge, Eli did his best to estimate the position of the shooter and he scanned for any evidence—a footprint, a thread of material, bullet casings. Anything besides a plethora of flora and fauna. But there was nothing, not even a squirrel skittering about. So when a twig snapped behind him, he immediately turned and raised his gun.

      He lowered it just as quickly. A small child stood there—an Amish child, dressed in a blue shirt, black trousers with suspenders and a straw hat.

      “Sorry.” Eli clicked on the safety of his gun and slid the piece back into its holster. “Don’t be afraid. I thought you were someone else.”

      The boy frowned and pointed through the woods. “He went that way.”

      “Who went that way?”

      “You look for man with, uh, der Pistole?” The boy looked at the Glock.

      “You saw the man with the gun?”

      The boy nodded and pulled his hand from behind his back to reveal a large black hat, the kind the Amish men wore.

      “The man was Amish?” Eli’s voice cracked with surprise.

      The boy shook his head. “Nein. English he was.”

      “But he wore this hat?”

      “Jah. He wear hat but also he have a…Oberlippenbart.” The boy pointed to his upper lip.

      “A mustache?” Eli was thankful the kid was observant. No Amish man grew a mustache—only the beard. So, the kid was right. The shooter could not have been Amish. Not that it was likely a shooter was Amish anyway, as the People did not support the use of weapons—and hence the main reason his own father could not accept his choice of professions. “Did you see where he went?”

      “In black car. Big black car.” The boy’s eyes were wide with admiration.

      A black car? Like the one that nearly caused the wreck earlier? “And the car?”

      “It goes.”

      Of course, the car was long gone, but at least he’d been searching in the right place. Whoever he was, he had taken his shell casings with him, meaning he was probably not an amateur. Although if he was a pro, and had been aiming at Eli or Hannah, then why had he missed? They’d been standing out in the open, without a thought of danger, until the first shot had been fired. Could his poor aim have been deliberate? Like warning shots? Eli looked back at the boy. “Okay, son. Let’s get you home. Where do live?”

      “Miller’s Grove.”

      Elijah nodded. Miller’s Grove was the home of his uncle. “What’s your name, son?”

      “Nicholas.” He grinned. “Nicholas Miller.”

      “Well, you get on home, Nicholas Miller.” Eli smiled at the child. “Can I have that hat?”

      The boy lifted the hat to him. “Are you a policeman?”

      “I am,” Eli said, then watched the child, his very own cousin, scramble down the same path he’d taken so many times, so many years ago. At the other edge of the woods, an older girl with golden braids walked the path in her bare feet. No doubt it was Nicholas’s sister come to fetch her brother home.

      Elijah sighed and headed back to Nolt Cottage. Great. That cute cousin would head home now and tell all his siblings about the cop in the woods…and then everyone would know he was back in Willow Trace.

      But would he be staying long enough to make a difference to his family? He wasn’t sure yet. From those surprising first few minutes, it looked as though he was needed in Willow Trace—at least judging by the flying bullets. But even that didn’t make him want to stay. Seeing Hannah had been strange enough. He couldn’t imagine a confrontation with his own father. No. The sooner he was out of there, the better.

      * * *

      Hannah wrapped her arms around her legs, hugging her knees to her chest, as if she could squeeze away her own fears. But when her eyes fixed on the shards of broken glass spread across the floor, she continued to tremble.

      Today had been the first time she’d dared be alone since that morning in the barn, since Jessica’s “accident”—as Thomas, her brother-in-law, referred to the girl’s death. But Hannah didn’t believe Jessica’s death was an accident. Dead bodies don’t get placed in barns by accident. People probably don’t shoot at you and your house accidentally, either. Losing Jessica had been devastating enough on its own—she had never once imagined that whatever had gotten Jessica killed could put herself or any others in danger, too.

      Perhaps Thomas and she should not have kept silent about the events surrounding Jessica’s death. About the blood and how she’d been away all night. About her many secrets. About the black car at the barn and the intruder who pushed Hannah down and locked her inside. If only she could relive that last week. As her mother, she could have prevented this. She should have prevented this.

      In her mind she replayed the moments when she could have stopped Jessica and asked her what she was about. СКАЧАТЬ