Where Shadows Meet

by Colleen Coble

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “It was my fault. I wasn’t looking.”

  “I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

  “Something about the little girl?” The hopeful words sprang from her mouth.

  His smile faded. “No, nothing about her. I just wondered if you needed anything. And to say I’m sorry Vanessa bothered you.”

  He turned and began to walk toward his SUV. “Get in. I’ll drive you home.”

  Such an infuriating man. Just because he thought her quest was a wild-goose chase didn’t mean he could ignore her. Maybe she needed to start through town herself and ask everyone she met. She pressed her lips together and got into the vehicle. He shut the door behind her and went around to his side. She called Angie to tell her she had a ride.

  She put her cell phone away, then glanced around his SUV. It was neat and smelled clean with a hint of his cologne. The vehicle shifted when he got in. She’d like to ask him about his family. Vanessa’s visit had made her curious about him. Would he answer any of her questions? If she got to know him better, maybe he’d help her find the little girl.

  He glanced at her. “I hope Vanessa’s visit didn’t upset you too much. She can be rather . . . overbearing.”

  “She was larger-than-life,” Hannah admitted. “You were married to her sister?”

  He nodded. “Analise died three years ago.”

  “Vanessa told me she’d died. I’m so sorry.”

  “So was I. Our daughter misses her terribly. Analise was a great mom. And a good wife.”

  “What happened?”

  “She had a brain aneurysm. She was prone to migraines, so at first that’s what we thought it was. If I’d taken her sooner . . .” His fingers tightened on the wheel. “Now Caitlin has no mother.”

  “Guilt is hard to get over. I know all about that.” She stared out the window.

  He turned his head to look at her. “Are you talking about the lemonade? There was no poison in it.”

  She stared out the window. “I killed my family.”

  “The cookies killed them. It wasn’t your fault.”

  “It was my sin God punished.” She turned her head to look at him. “You don’t think Cyrus killed them, do you?”

  “No, not anymore.”

  “I—I think it was Reece. Except . . .”

  “Except for what?”

  “What did he do with the quilts?”

  “Sold them, maybe?”

  She shook her head. “They would have turned up on the market. There’s no trace of them.”

  “Tell me, what about the murder itself? Would Reece have had time to arrange the bodies after you left, gather up the cookies, and help Cyrus get rid of the quilts before he came to meet you? How late was he?”

  “Probably fifteen or twenty minutes, maybe even half an hour. I didn’t have a watch. The bridge was only five minutes from the house. If he’d been waiting for me to leave, it could have happened that way. When I left the house, I went to the barn to do chores before going to meet him. I was out of the house at least an hour before I went to the bridge.”

  The SUV rolled to a stop at a light. Hannah couldn’t face any more questions. “Look, thanks for the offer to drive me home, but I’ve got some errands to run.” She threw open the door and got out. In the sunshine, the fresh air cleansed the taint of death lingering from his probing. Why had she ever come back here? Her new life might have been boring, but at least grief didn’t dog every step. She had to get past this, concentrate on the future. A future that might hold a reunion with her child.

  He rolled down the window and called out to her. “Wait, I’ll take you where you want to go.”

  “I’d rather walk. It’s not far.” She didn’t look at him but plunged down the street, dodging the water puddles on the sidewalk. If she cut through some yards, she’d have to walk only a few blocks to the house. Alone time was a treat she craved, time to remember.

  A dog barked as she walked through a muddy backyard, and she skirted a freshly seeded lawn to find her way to the sidewalk that fronted businesses along the highway. The sun warmed her face and arms, and she fanned her face with her hand. It would be a hot summer if the spring was any indication. The humidity from all the rain coated her skin.

  She glanced at the ice-cream shop, Tammy Twist and Sizzle. Children would be apt to frequent a place like that. She changed her course and entered the store. People of all ages thronged the counter. With so many, her chances of someone recognizing the picture were greater. She fell into line behind a large woman in a pair of red capris.

  The lady glanced her way, and Hannah pasted on her most winsome smile. “Excuse me, but I wondered if you’ve seen this little girl.” She produced the picture and watched the woman’s expression.

  The woman raised her brows and looked Hannah over as if to check whether she might be dangerous. “Why do you want to know?”

  “I—I’m looking for my daughter.” The words sounded sweet on her tongue.

  “Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry.” The woman took the picture and studied it. Her eyes held real regret when she handed it back and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m not from around here, though. You might try the counter people.”

  “Thanks, I’ll do that.” In the meantime, Hannah drifted from person to person and showed the picture, but no one seemed to have seen her. Finally she reached the counter, where she ordered a cup of chocolate-almond ice cream. There was a lull in the line of customers, so she asked the employee, a young girl with a nose ring, if she recognized the child.

  The girl glanced at the photo as she was ringing up Hannah’s order. “I don’t know, maybe. I see a lot of kids.” She stared at Hannah with suspicion pulling at her mouth.

  “Do you know her name?”

  “Look, I’m not a detective agency. I can’t tell you anything.”

  “Sorry.” Hannah took her dessert and walked away from the counter. She meandered across the street and cut around a couple of blocks to Sycamore Drive. As she neared the house, she saw a long box by the front door. As she came closer, she saw it was addressed with black marker. The letters were large enough that she could make out her name on the box from a distance. Postage stamps decorated the top right corner.

  She reached the door and stood looking down at the box. Her cell phone was in her hand before she realized it. Matt would want to check out this parcel before she opened it. She dialed the number and kept her gaze locked on the box. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. Five minutes later, Matt’s SUV came squealing to a stop by the house.

  Blake got out first, then both men jogged to the house. “You think we need to call in a bomb squad?” Blake asked.

  “Let me take a look first,” Matt said. He pulled out some wipes and carefully went over the box before looking at them. “Seems clean. Is Ajax inside?”

  She nodded. “I left him here with the cats when I went to town.”

  Matt unlocked the door and let the dog out. He led Ajax to the box. The dog sniffed around the box, then sat on his haunches and looked at Matt with an expectant expression.

  “I think I’ll risk it,” Matt said. “Stand back.”

  Blake and Hannah moved out by the street. Matt took out a pocketknife, slit the brown paper wrapping, and lifted it away from the box. About eight by twenty inches, the box didn’t look big enough to contain a bomb. She watched him slide the blade under the tape until the flaps lay loose and ready to reveal the contents.

  He gently lifted first one flap, then the next, and peered inside. He jumped back. “Flowers,” he said. “Don’t get close enough to smell them.” He glanced at the dog. “I’d better get Ajax checked out. I’ll have the state forensics lab take a look and see if they can lift any prints.”

  “I’ll take it to the jail,” Blake said. He jogged back to the SUV and got out a big plastic bag, then slipped on a mask. He slid the box of flowers into the bag and tied the end. “I’ll be right back.”

  Matt put hi
s hands in his pockets. “I’d lay money the flowers are loaded with strychnine. Maybe the killer was counting on you not knowing what killed Moe.”

  Hannah took a step back and rubbed her palms along the material of her skirt. The attempt on her life left a bad taste in her mouth. “Maybe the killer knew I’d know. Maybe it was a warning he was coming after me.”

  “Maybe. And now we know he knows where you are as well.”

  “Reece saw me at the door when Vanessa came by.”

  “And you’re just now telling me?”

  “Sorry. I was more concerned with finding the little girl.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You’ve got my number. I need to be aware of everything. I’ve got a murder on my plate to try to solve. Every clue is vital.”

  “Four murders,” she reminded him.

  “Okay, four.”

  Maybe she should just pack up and head back to Milwaukee. Her arrival seemed to have brought more trouble to the people she loved.

  “I showed the picture to some people at the ice-cream shop. I think the girl behind the counter recognized her, but she wouldn’t say anything. I’m going to start hanging out there.”

  His lips flattened, and his nostrils flared. His words came out clipped and hoarse. “Just leave it alone. Do you want to hurt her?”

  Hannah stared at his face. Was that anguish in his eyes? “You know where she is, don’t you?” The air thickened around her, close and still as she waited for his answer.

  “Just forget it, Hannah.” He turned his back to her and went to unlock the house.

  But she knew why he wouldn’t look. Her daughter was with someone he knew. But who? She rubbed her forehead. Oh, she was jumping to conclusions. If he knew, he’d tell her. What did he have to gain from hiding anything? She was so used to Reece’s games, she questioned everyone’s motives.

  FIFTEEN

  “The Pineapple Quilt has long been a symbol of hospitality. And the Amish can welcome you to their home like no others.”

  —HANNAH SCHWARTZ,

  IN The Amish Faith Through Their Quilts

  Lights blazed from the house into the thickening twilight. Reece hurtled the fence in the backyard and fell onto his knees in the mud. The wet soaked through his jeans, and he swore as he stumbled to his feet and crept toward the house, shaking mud from the steak he carried.

  At least the dog didn’t come snarling to face him down. The recent rain had left the yard a mess, and his foot plunged into something soft, followed by an unmistakable odor. The dog was destined to leave his mark anyway. Reece bit back the vicious words that wanted to spew out. Someone might hear. After cleaning his shoe on the wet grass, he finally made it to the window that looked into the kitchen. The wide opening between the kitchen and living room revealed the women sitting on the sofa watching TV.

  The lamplight lit Hannah’s loose hair. It had been up when he caught a glimpse of her through the open door when she was talking to Vanessa. He loved her locks spread out across her shoulders. The red glinted so brightly. He could feel the texture of her hair in his hand, the silken strands twining around his fingers.

  He should have known better than to take the kid from her. He’d underestimated her maternal instinct. If she’d just explained it to him better, he would have made a different decision. He’d only tried to do what was best. His every thought was of her and their love.

  They’d be together again, the three of them.

  The dog lifted his head, his ears flicking. Reece ducked out of view and moved around to the back door. He’d hide out in the garage until the time was right. Then he would go see Hannah. He longed to feel her softness, to feel her fragrant breath waft over his face. They’d been apart too long. Maybe she was missing him by now. The storm thundered overhead as if in approval.

  But first, a minor matter needed his attention. Reece picked the lock with a tool he’d had for years, then opened the door noiselessly. He whistled softly, and Ajax came padding to the rear entrance. He sniffed Reece’s hand. “Good, Ajax,” he crooned. The dog wiggled with delight and came out onto the porch. Reece pulled out a steak loaded with tranquilizer. “Want to take a little nap, boy?” He dropped the meat on the patio and watched as Ajax gobbled it up.

  He wanted to start the ball rolling, but Hannah deserved every possible chance to come with him of her own free will. It was the only way he’d ever fully trust her again. She had to want him. Only him. He had to convince her he’d converted. Maybe he could get his bishop to write a letter.

  He settled down to wait until Ajax was out.

  MATT RUBBED HIS eyes. The clock on his wall read eight o’clock— he should have been off duty hours ago. He ached to see his daughter. The flowers sent to Hannah today had been chock full of strychnine, but at least Ajax hadn’t inhaled enough through the box and paper to hurt him. He stared at the folder on his desk. Matt knew the background check on Hannah might contain anything. Did he really want to know?

  “Aren’t you going to take a look at it so we can go home?” Blake asked.

  “Yeah, sure.” Matt flipped it open and began to read. “Did you look at it yet?”

  “Yep. Reece was a nasty guy to her, from the looks of it. There are three hospital reports in there, all emergency room visits.”

  “Broken arm, broken nose,” Matt said. “A concussion on one visit.”

  “The hospital personnel wanted her to press charges on that one and she refused. Said she fell down the steps.”

  Matt wanted to hurt someone, preferably Reece. Any man who hit a woman was a coward, and Reece had done more than just slap her around. He’d hurt her badly. “She disappeared from the hospital after giving birth prematurely at home, but the fetus was never found. The detectives questioned him, but it doesn’t look like a warrant was ever issued.”

  “So she escaped him. Do we have any idea what she’s been doing for the past five years?” Blake asked.

  “She told me she worked for a museum. Milwaukee, I think.”

  “Want me to see what I can dig up in Wisconsin?”

  “I don’t think it’s necessary. It’s pretty clear she was running from Reece. Anything new on him?”

  “Yeah.” Blake tossed another folder on his desk.

  Matt glanced through the report. It didn’t surprise him. “He hasn’t worked anywhere longer than a few months at a time over the past few years. Odd jobs, a stint or two as a guard. He’s sure floated around.”

  “I think he was probably looking for Hannah.”

  Matt closed the folder. He flipped open the main folder that contained the copies he’d made from Hannah’s notes.

  “What’s that?” Blake peered over his shoulder at the drawings.

  “From the first murders ten years ago. The word anathema and a peace symbol.”

  “Seems weird.”

  “Also called Nero’s Cross or the Broken Cross, according to Hannah. We pursued the peace symbol, checking out various groups in the area. I’m not sure how we missed its other meaning. Maybe because it’s so obscure.”

  Blake raised his brows, and his tone was skeptical. “Isn’t peace what the Amish believe in? They won’t even serve in the military or take any kind of government assistance. Peace or protest. The same symbol represents the annihilation of faith or peace with everyone. Weird, don’t you think?”

  “Hannah thinks this instance is about annihilation. A declaration of war against everything the Amish stand for. A hate crime.”

  “You think it’s Reece?”

  “Why would he hate the Amish? The woman he loved was Amish. He must have seen something good in them. And now he says he’s converted, too, and joined a district in Shipshewana in northern Indiana.”

  “I could check that out. Go to Shipshewana.”

  “Good idea. Do that.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s what, four hours or a little over? Head up there in the morning and stay until you find the bishop of his district. See what he tells you.”

  “Okay, but wh
at if none of this is true? What’s Reece want?”

  “He wants Hannah to come back to him.” His gaze went back to the files. And Reece probably wanted Caitlin too. Matt had to figure out what to do. At least Caitlin was hidden where Hannah couldn’t find her. Whether Reece knew of Caitlin’s whereabouts was another question. “Any sign of lurkers out your way?”

  “Nope. I think Gina was imagining things when she thought someone followed her. But I’ve got all the security systems activated. And Gina packs that small pistol in her purse. She can handle anyone who tries to mess with her or Caitlin.”

  Matt wished he could confide in Blake and Gina about why Caitlin had to be hidden. And just who was after her. Carrying this burden alone was wearisome. But he’d do anything to keep his daughter.

  HANNAH’S HOPE, WHICH had seemed so bright that afternoon, fizzled with the sundown. Hannah began to question whether she was on a wild-goose chase. It looked like the little girl had a loving family. Did she have any right to disrupt that kind of happiness? And her accusation of Matt proved she was getting a little off-kilter.

  She needed to get her mind on something else. “Let’s cut my hair,” she said. Angie had been after Hannah to let her cut it for months.

  “What did you say?”

  “I’m not kidding. Let’s cut it.” Hannah jumped up and tugged Angie to her feet. “I’m ready. After I left Reece, I rejected anything that might make me attractive to men. I hated the clothes he made me wear, the come-hither hairstyle. I think I went too far the other way. I’ve used my professional status as an excuse, but I’ve always known the real reason.”

  “Why now?” Angie’s sly smile came. “Does the handsome detective have anything to do with it?”

  Hannah averted her eyes. “Of course not. FOX & Friends is coming next week. I want to look nice.”

  “Uh-huh, if you say so.” Angie turned toward the kitchen. “You don’t have to tell me twice. I’ll get the scissors. Any idea what you want me to do?”