Finding Mercy

by Karen Harper

  “Look, Ella,” he said, pointing at something she couldn’t really see. “Even the ID numbers and brand name are filed off. No, a professional killer is not going to put his name on his gun.”

  “Oh, ya. Just trying to help.”

  “You do help. If there’s anything personal of his, it’s in his suitcase, but we’re not going through it now. I want to keep moving, put a lot of distance between us and Pinecraft before dawn. It’s nearly three in the morning.”

  Again using his shirt to avoid leaving prints, he snapped the gun case closed, hefted it, looked around to be sure no one was watching and carried it to the Dumpster she could see in the shadows of the gas station. The case made a thud as he dropped it in. When he got back to the car, Ella pointed at two extra sets of license plates from different states, shoved behind where the gun case had been.

  “Those we can use,” he said. “When we head north, we’ll change the plates—if you’re still going with me. She’s probably right that you shouldn’t,” he said with a nod toward the car.

  “I’m going, but where are we going? Will you tell me, at least?”

  “I’ve decided the best hideout is the place my enemy probably had watched after I first disappeared, a place they think I’d never dare come back to. But I’ve thought of a way to survive there and be close to help if we get completely desperate. I’ve seen your world and now you’ll see mine. Don’t tell Grossmamm, but I’m going to take you to see New York City. Let’s get going.”

  He slammed the trunk closed. His stalwart Amish girl nodded, but she looked as scared as she had when she’d been hit by her first big breaker in the Gulf of Mexico.

  * * *

  Ray-Lynn shot wide-awake and rolled over in bed. Ding-dang, that’s right! Jack had stayed this time! She came instantly alert. Her too-bright, glowing-red digital clock read 3:00 a.m. She was so excited about their engagement she hadn’t slept much, but then, neither had Jack. He’d been tossing and turning and hogging the covers, though she’d gladly put up with that to have him near.

  “You awake?” she whispered.

  “Yep,” he replied, and reached out to pull her back against him so it was almost as if she sat in his lap.

  “Regrets?”

  “Not about us.”

  “About what then?”

  “Just a feeling that I don’t have my finger on the pulse of this place like I used to—the town, Home Valley, Eden County. I mean, with the Amish, you never quite know all they’re thinking, but this is different.”

  “So what’s different now—other than Eben Lantz probably didn’t tell the truth about flu in his family? I think you’re handling things well.”

  “I told Linc Armstrong not to get near Hannah again, but you heard he hassled Ella about her. Then earlier today, someone told me they saw him in the vicinity the day of her wedding. Yesterday, Connie Lee, whose family’s building that big new spa, practically accosted me, all upset she wasn’t allowed to see Ella. Ms. Lee wanted to take her and anyone else in the family who was ill to the Cleveland Clinic, so she’d get better and agree to some damn deal about buying lavender. It was like stopping a tornado to get the woman to back off!”

  “Anything else?”

  “Actually, yeah. My new deputy has not only become my eyes and ears around here, which I wanted, but in this short time he’s made me feel he knows it all and I don’t.”

  “He’s just overeager, Jack, a real go-getter. I’ll bet you were like that when you started out. I, for one, am glad you have Win Hayes so you have more time for me.”

  “There is that. Then to top all that off, I swear Andrew Lantz must be on the run again.”

  “The run again? I knew there was something strange about him!” she said, shifting in his embrace. “And you think he has Ella with him? But surely not the Lantz grandmother. What did he do? He’s on the lam from the law, and you regret he slipped away?”

  “Not exactly. I just blurted out too much of my laundry list of grievances. Honey, I know we’re sharing things now, but I still can’t explain except to say Lantz is not a criminal.”

  “Don’t tell me he and Ella eloped? Not straitlaced Ella. They haven’t known each other very long, and she never got over Sarah leaving for the world with Nate.”

  “I swear, you ought to write fiction, Ray-Lynn,” he said gruffly, giving her ribs a squeeze. “None of that’s true, far as I know. You’ve got an overactive imagination. You and that Gone with the Wind hobby of yours....”

  “Just say it. I’m obsessed, a fanatic—obsessed with you too.”

  He squeezed her even tighter and ducked his head to press a kiss on her bare shoulder. “Glad for that at least.”

  “So what about my idea that we could dress kind of Civil War style for our wedding? Just rented things, of course, or maybe I could get one of the Amish quilters to make our outfits, though it would be a lot harder than sewing theirs. Could you get through the short service and reception at the restaurant dressed like a Southern gentleman?”

  “If your stick-out skirt doesn’t make me bounce away from you when I kiss the bride. And me as a gentleman? ‘Let’s think about that tomorrow,’ said not Scarlett but Sheriff Jack.”

  She laughed, then sobered. “But I didn’t mean to turn trivial when something’s bothering you,” she told him. “I’m glad it wasn’t the fear of a fancy wedding costume keeping you awake when you’ve been so tired.”

  “I just don’t feel hands-on enough with Win Hayes around, turning heads one way or the other.” He sighed. “But I’ve wanted help here ever since the arsons and the graveyard shooting, so I’d better just shut up. Besides, I always feel hands-on with you, honey.”

  He slid his free hand down over her waist to her bare hip. He turned and tipped her so she lay under him. She saw, as she reached up to put her arms around his neck, her new diamond engagement ring glint a fierce red in the reflected light of the clock.

  * * *

  “It was hard saying goodbye to her,” Ella said, wiping under her eyes with her fingers as they pulled away in the car from the bus station in Orlando. The Greyhound heading north to Harrisburg where Grossmamm would make a connection to Union County, Pennsylvania, had just left Orlando in a rush of noise and fumes.

  Suddenly, Ella felt bereft and exhausted—and nervous on top of everything about being really alone with Andrew. It was nearly dawn, and the sky ahead of them glowed pink. She stretched her sore, weary body and leaned back in the comfy seat. Would he stop the car somewhere so they could sleep? It was roomy enough and the seats tipped back.

  “She’s been good to me, too, so I feel the same,” he said after a pause, despite the fact she’d nearly forgotten what she’d just said. “Your entire family was kind, but Ruth Raber is special. Of course, she has an ulterior motive. It seems she’s hoping to turn me Amish and into an honest man—marrying Amish.”

  “It’s such a crazy idea. Impossible.”

  “What’s that your daad told me? With God all things are possible.”

  “True! After all, I’ve only known you for ten days and look at all that’s happened. And now New York! But in these clothes?”

  “You’re one step ahead of me. As soon as I spot a Walmart or other all-night superstore, we’re going to go modern, thanks to this money from our favorite hit man—or one of them.”

  “I’ll be okay if I don’t have to wear slacks and can get a conservative skirt. But I hate the idea of thinking, after we’re rid of one killer, there’s another one still out there. Did you actually believe the killer clown that he wasn’t the one in Amish country—believe a man like that?”

  “He had no reason to lie at that point. He thought I was going to die. He knew no details of the Home Valley, including your name. He copped to—that is, admitted—he tried to take me out—kill me....”

  “You don’t have to translate everything for me!”

  “Right. Sorry. We’re both exhausted and on edge. Go ahead and get some sleep until I find a st
ore.”

  “But you’re tired too, and you have to drive.”

  “I love to drive, even illegally in a borrowed vehicle without a license. It feels so good again,” he said, flexing his hands on the steering wheel, “to control something. I’ve driven all night before. I’ll get some coffee and be fine.”

  “I’m sure you’ve missed your car and your real life.”

  “Yes, but sometimes I’m not sure what is real life anymore. The Home Valley seemed real—authentic. It’s like, for the first time in my life, I had time to smell the roses, or in this case, the lavender. Miss it?”

  “I do. I can smell it now, see it in my mind and heart. But people are more important.”

  He reached over the armrest that separated the front seats and put his hand on hers. “I agree. Other people are key—not just the big I.”

  “Aren’t you going to tell me that’s spelled capital I and not e-y-e?”

  “I like a woman with spirit. But, back to the clothes for a minute, you’re going to stick out in New York if you look too conservative, at least in SoHo. And we’ll have to hide or cut your long hair—”

  “We don’t cut our hair. It’s important. It would dishonor us, and a woman’s hair is only taken down for her husband at night when they go to bed—sleep.”

  “All right. But I’m hoping you’ll be able to go out during the day to shop for us. I might be recognized but—unless you draw attention to yourself—I’m betting you’ll get by.”

  She heaved a huge sigh. “I have learned in whatever state I am to be content,” she said, not bothering to tell him that was said by a man in the Bible with the authorities after him too. Someone always wanted to get rid of the apostle Paul, and he was often on the run. But finally, he was caught and killed.

  “Then I hope—and pray,” he said, and squeezed her hand, “you will learn to be content in the state of New York.” It was a feeble joke, but she smiled as she leaned back in her seat, then sat up. He was taking a brightly lighted exit ramp toward a huge Walmart guarded by a cluster of fast-food stores.

  Well, she told herself, she would have to go along with new clothes and New York. She could face anything that might come her way except for another person trying to kill them. But she wished she hadn’t fallen in love with a man who, despite Grossmamm’s bold ideas, she could probably have but never keep.

  * * *

  “Are you going to come out of there?” Andrew yelled into the hall of women’s dressing rooms. At least no other customers were in here at this hour of the morning. “We have to get going!” he added, not in a quiet voice.

  “Just a minute more!”

  Ella looked at herself again in the mirror, a full-length one when her family usually kept their small one turned to the wall. It had even taken her a while to pick out things to try on because she had no idea of her sizes. Why would she, when her garments had always been hand-made and fitted just for her?

  She pivoted again, twisting around to glance at the reflection of her backside in the mirror. This was the second pair of slacks she’d decided on, but, despite the fact they covered her waist to ankle, she felt undressed. She’d also picked out what was called a business suit, so she’d fit in, as Andrew put it. She wasn’t sure she wanted to look like the moderns of SoHo, the neighborhood where he had some sort of apartment called a co-op.

  But these slacks—just like men’s pants, truth be told. They seemed to show off the curves of her legs and bottom, at least compared to what she was used to. She felt naked enough without her bonnet, prayer kapp and apron, but now this!

  She threw the sweatshirt-type jacket over her T-shirt top and bra—she’d never had a bra on either—gathered up the other clothes and went out to meet Andrew. He stood there with a cart holding his new clothes, except for those he had on. As far as she could tell, he had nothing dressy like her navy suit and white blouse, but he said he’d left business suits at home. He wore jeans, a T-shirt with a big check mark on it that matched the ones on his running shoes. At least these weren’t all scuffed up from a fight. She’d bought a pair of those too, her easiest purchase. She was pretty sure she’d never be able to walk far in her navy high heels, even though they were the lowest ones she could find. Worldly women were crazy to walk around in those tipsy things!

  She also noticed Andrew had two big backpacks, four flashlights and a box of candles.

  “You look great,” he said. “Did you get something to pull your hair back in a ponytail or braid?”

  “Ya—yes, that was the easy part. Why all the lights?”

  “We won’t be able to turn on the electricity at night at my place,” he said. “Put your stuff in here, and we’re on our way. I even got some makeup to cover my black eye.”

  “Won’t they be upset we’re already wearing one set of the clothes?” she asked as she added her things to his.

  “I cleared it with the floor manager. Did you keep all the tags together so they can ring the stuff up?”

  “Just like you said. All we need is to get arrested for shoplifting.”

  “Ella, I took care of it. I asked at the information desk near where we’re going to check out. She got the manager and I told her our stuff was stolen, but I have a feeling she thinks we’re a couple of hayseeds eloping.”

  “Hayseeds? Is that what the Englische really think of the Amish? And we’re telling so many lies,” she muttered, following him and the cart toward the front of the huge store. “Pretty soon we won’t have any conscience left at all.”

  “I used to wonder how my boss managed that, the years of lies and cover-ups. But I like the idea the manager thought we might be running off together to elope instead of just hide out.”

  “You’re starting to sound like Grossmamm,” she said, keeping close to him, though there were few folks in the store aisles now. She knew she was getting cranky, but she couldn’t help it. Besides being exhausted and upset to be so dependent on him, she didn’t like his attitude. But then, what did she expect? That he’d tell the store manager they were running from killers and had just avoided getting thrown off a tower?

  She decided to change the subject. “I was thinking there might be something in the fake clown’s suitcase you could wear or use,” she told him.

  He pushed the cart up to the only open checkout aisle. Ignoring her, but with a smile at the middle-aged, plump cashier, he said, “Lindsey over at the information desk got the manager and she told me it would be okay to wear some of the clothes out of the store. She said just give you the price tags, so if you need to ask her about th—”

  “Oh, Lindsey and the manager already told me and described you,” the woman said with a blush rising right through the rouge on her cheeks. “She said to take good care of the handsome man who got a black eye when he and his girlfriend got mugged and their suitcases taken.”

  The woman didn’t so much as look at Ella, which was just as well, she thought, because she was rolling her eyes at Andrew, who was evidently starting to act like Alex. Clever and in control now, that was him. In his element, even though they were running for their lives. And smooth with the ladies. That made her wonder if he had someone back in SoHo in New York.

  Had she been crazy to come along? No, she knew this man, didn’t she? He’d been an Auslander in her world as she now was in his. Surely, Alex Caldwell could not be completely different from her thoughtful, caring Andrew Lantz.

  Outside, as they carried their packages to the car, the sun looked balanced on the edge of the horizon like a big, red ball. “I saw a sign that there’s a rest stop about twenty miles ahead,” he told her as he unloaded their cart and handed her the things to put in the trunk he’d opened without even touching it. In the mingling of harsh parking lot lights and pale daylight, he pulled the hit man’s suitcase over to the edge of the trunk.

  “I was going to wait until it was really light for this, but I’m too curious,” he told her, snapping it open. “No cell phone here either! Just clothes, clean T-shirts,
a shaver. I wouldn’t want to wear anything of his, so I’ll forget you said that. And—more money! I guess they paid him up front for taking me out.”

  She stared at the packet of fifty-dollar bills Andrew was fanning through. “Maybe,” she said, “he had double money because, after what happened to me in the Home Valley, he was paid to get rid of you first—then me too.”

  She peered down into the depths of the suitcase. There was something else still inside, something square and black.

  “Look,” she said, pointing, “a billfold. Even more money?”

  “Here,” he said, “hold this,” and thrust the packet of bills into her hands.

  He reached in and pulled the billfold out, one that appeared to be black alligator skin. Andrew flipped it open and, through a little plastic window inside, they stared down into the frowning face of Michael F. Moreland, of Atlanta, Georgia, born 04/06/65, the man who had tried to kill them, no doubt, for the money she now held.

  Andrew said, “I’m going to email this info to Gerald Branin from a library somewhere he can’t trace me. Either he’ll use it to find who hired Mr. Moreland, or—if he’s the one who’s given me up—he’ll realize I’m on to him and back off.”

  “Or get even more desperate to keep you quiet. Anything else in there—like a contact’s phone number or name?”

  “Not that I can see. Not even a credit card, insurance card, nothing. Have gun, will travel light. Divide that money up, and we’ll put it in our pockets. You see, sweetheart, pockets come in handy, and I do like you in those jeans.”

  Pockets? Jeans? Sweetheart! As he opened the car door for her and she climbed in, she guessed it was official now. Like it or not, on the run or not, in love with Alex Caldwell or not, she had officially jumped the fence to the world. Could she ever find her way back home?

  21

  IT WAS THE first time she’d ever slept with a man—that is, slept next to one. By the time they’d driven off the highway to follow Route A1A through St. Augustine, even Andrew was starting to fade. He’d pulled off the highway and followed the signs to Crescent Beach, where they actually drove on the wide stretch of sand, though he had to steer around a chained barrier. Hopefully no one would see or find them here. They parked by some dunes where they could hear the steady sound of Atlantic Ocean waves even through the rolled-up windows.