Where Shadows Meet

by Colleen Coble

  She snapped another bean, and the sound was like the crack widening in Matt’s heart, a crevice that let the terror surge into this throat. He’d do anything to keep his daughter. Anything.

  TWO DAYS LATER, a big truck parked in the driveway. The side read FOX & Friends. Hannah wanted to wring her hands. Why had she ever agreed to this? It went against everything she’d been taught and was a symptom of the pride she’d allowed to creep into her life.

  “What’s going on?” Sarah peered out the window at the truck as men began unloading video equipment.

  “It—it’s a TV show that’s going to interview me.” Hannah wanted to cringe from the judgment in Sarah’s eyes when she explained. “I wrote a book that has sold really well, and I’ve become something of an expert about Amish quilts. A morning TV show wants to get some footage of me here.”

  Spots of color appeared on Sarah’s face. “We will stay inside, me and the girls.”

  “Of course.” Hannah bolted for the door to avoid her censure. Angie followed. Out on the porch, Hannah leaned against the railing until the crew called her. “I should have canceled this,” she said.

  “It will be over soon,” Angie soothed. She took out a notebook and went down to greet the hosts of the show.

  But it wasn’t over soon enough for Hannah. Two hours later, she’d been photographed sitting in the buggy, leaning against the barn, standing by the laundry line, and smiling by the ham hanging in the smokehouse. Limp as the overalls flapping in the breeze on the line, she wanted nothing more than to forget the morning ever happened. The crew and hosts were wonderful, but she knew the interview had been wrong for her, for her family.

  Once the trucks and cars departed, Hannah wanted to get away. Angie drove her to town, where Hannah pointed out the coffee shop. Plenty of residents would be there. Angie parked the car and they headed inside.

  The aroma of coffee beans roasting burned Hannah’s throat as soon as she stepped in the door. She glanced around the room. None of the people sipping lattes and checking e-mail paid her the least attention.

  “You sure you want to do this?” Angie whispered. “Do you know any of them?”

  Hannah was about to say they were all strangers when a man looked up and their eyes locked. Panic fluttered into her throat, and she took an involuntary step back. Noah Whetstone rose from his chair and came toward her. He wasn’t smiling. She wanted to flee, to hide in the bushes outside the door where she didn’t have to see the betrayal come into his face again.

  She watched him approach. He wore a long beard, no mustache, and smooth cheeks, so he’d kept the faith. And he’d taken a wife, another woman, someone who deserved him. The beard was a symbol of his married status. His pants were a little dusty as though he’d already worked awhile at the sawmill this morning. And he likely had. It was after ten.

  After what seemed an eternity, he reached her. “Hannah. I heard you were back in town, ja.”

  “You—you look well, Noah.” Hannah forced a smile, lifting her chin to look him in the eye. He didn’t have to know her perfect life had crumbled around her like a rotted board. There was no need to let him know she still carried the shame of how she’d treated him.

  “And you.” He cleared his throat. “There is room at the table next to mine, if you’d like to sit.” He glanced at Angie. “This is your friend?”

  “Oh yes. Angie, this is Noah Whetstone. A—a friend. Angie is my good friend and assistant.”

  His gaze held reproach, but he said nothing about their former relationship. “You want coffee? I will get it.”

  Angie plopped into the chair as though the air in the place hadn’t just thickened to the consistency of molasses. She said, “I’ll take a mocha.”

  “You probably shouldn’t do that, Noah. It might look as though we’re sharing a meal.”

  He frowned, then shook his head. “You are still under the ban, ja? But no matter. I will get it. You can sit at the table next to mine and we can still talk though I honor the shunning.”

  “I’ll take an iced coffee, then.” Hannah sank onto the chair he’d pointed out. Her hands were shaking. Noah had moved on too. It wasn’t as though she’d ruined his life. Still, it hurt to come face-to-face with her failures. She watched him take out his cell phone and place a call, then put it back. Maybe he was calling the bishop to come confront her.

  “You all right?” Angie asked. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

  “It was just a shock, seeing him.”

  “I gather he’s more than a friend?”

  “We were engaged. I hurt him when I ran off with Reece.”

  Angie studied the young man standing in line. “You left him for Reece? He’s cute, especially if you could get him to shave off those whiskers.”

  “I like the beard,” Hannah said. She’d grown up admiring her father’s.

  Noah came back holding two cups of coffee. He set one in front of each of the women, then took his own seat again.

  “Thanks.” Hannah took a sip of her coffee. “Who did you marry, Noah?” Hannah knew it would be someone she knew.

  “Katie Stoltz. She has been a gut wife.”

  Hannah was relieved he’d done so well for himself. “I always liked Katie.” Katie’s dad owned the sawmill where Noah worked. “You’re still at the sawmill then?” She smiled and pointed to the dust on his jacket.

  “Ja. Katie’s father retired a year ago.”

  “Children?”

  “Four.” His smile grew broader.

  “Wonderful!” She hoped her envy didn’t show.

  “What about you, Hannah? You are happy, ja? Children?”

  “I’m so sorry, Noah,” she burst out. “I hate what I did to you. I hope you can forgive me.”

  His warm eyes studied her. “I have a gut life, Hannah. You did me no lasting harm. I forgave you long ago.”

  And she knew he had. The Amish way wasn’t to wait to offer forgiveness until asked. It was freely extended regardless. She fingered the picture in the pocket of her skirt, then slowly drew it out and reached across the aisle to show it to him. “Do you recognize this child?” A line crouched between his eyes, and she could tell he wanted to ask more questions, but he took the picture and gazed down at it.

  “Nein,” he said finally. “But she has the look of you. Who is she?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but since she looks like me, I thought . . . she might be related.”

  He studied her face, then nodded. “Your cousin Mary, she lives here in town. Might the child be hers?”

  Hannah’s memory went back to the day of Moe’s funeral. When Hannah had asked Mary about a husband or children, sadness had tugged at her mouth when she said she was single and childless. Could it be she’d given one up for adoption? Mary and Hannah looked enough alike to be sisters. But how would Mary’s child have gotten the quilt?

  MATT SAW HANNAH sitting with Angie near an Amish guy as soon as he entered the coffee bar. What did he have to be jealous about? He’d never even kissed her. But all the rationalization in the world didn’t make the hot squeeze in his gut go away. Especially when he caught the intent expression on her face.

  She was tucking that dratted picture back into her purse. His first lie had started him on a slippery slope to perdition. If he’d been honest the first time he saw the picture of Caitlin, what would have happened?

  The barista handed over his coffee. Hannah still hadn’t seen him, so he walked over to be introduced. As he approached, he recognized the man’s face under the straw hat as one of the guys who worked the counter at the lumberyard. Matt struggled to remember if he’d ever taken Caitlin in with him.

  “Mind if I join you?” he asked.

  Hannah finally noticed he was on the planet. Her smile seemed strained, and he wondered if she’d felt anything when he’d held her. Maybe the attraction between them was all on his side. But he didn’t think he imagined her response.

  He slid into the seat beside her. Once he set
his coffee on the table, he reached across to offer his hand to the guy. “Matt Beitler, sheriff’s detective.”

  “Noah Whetstone. I’ve seen you in the lumberyard.”

  “Yeah, I put a deck on the house last year.”

  The conversation fizzled as Matt tried to think of what to say without mentioning his daughter. Before he could think of a safe topic, Noah rose. “I must get back to work. Say hello to your cousin, Hannah.” He nodded to Angie and Matt, picked up his coffee cup, and left.

  “I didn’t mean to run him off,” Matt said. Liar, liar. That was exactly what he’d hoped for. He’d have liked to put a hedge around Hannah and keep every other guy at arm’s length. Maybe that was why Reece acted so possessive.

  “You didn’t.”

  “It looked like you were deep in conversation.” He nearly winced when he saw Angie grin. Even if Hannah was too innocent to recognize his interest, her savvier friend saw everything.

  “I’ve known him all my life.”

  “They were engaged,” Angie put in. Her smile widened, and she glanced at Matt as if to see him squirm.

  “That was a long time ago. He’s married with four kids now.”

  It almost sounded as though she didn’t want him to worry. Matt couldn’t help but smile. Maybe she was transparent too. And Angie understood.

  She stood. “Listen, Hannah, since Matt is here, I’m going to go back to the house and call the producer to see if they got all they needed today. Why don’t you have Matt take you over to see Irene? You’ve been wanting to go. She’s probably got some of your mom’s quilts. See if you can borrow them for a few days for me to photograph them.”

  “But I should go back and work on the quilt too.”

  “Yeah, you should, but you’re not going to, so just get your sleuthing out of your system. See you two later.” Angie grabbed her coffee and sashayed out of the coffee bar.

  “You sure you don’t mind taking me over to Irene’s?”

  How was he going to get out of this one? Irene would recognize Caitlin in one glance. “Not a problem. I need to question Irene myself. You just need to borrow quilts?”

  “I was going to ask her about the little girl, but now there’s no need.” She blinked rapidly at the moisture flooding her eyes.

  “Why not?” Was she giving up?

  “One of my cousins. We look a lot alike. I think the girl might be hers. She might have given her up for adoption.”

  “I’m sorry.” He reached across the table and took her hand in both of his. He rubbed his thumb along her palm.

  One part of him was rejoicing that he wouldn’t be found out, and the other was responding to the touch of her hand. An impossible situation. He didn’t dare explore his feelings for her when it would all come crashing down the minute she found out the extent of his deceit. Besides, she’d never filed for divorce.

  Her fingers clutched his hand, and her eyes held a naked appeal for him to make it all better. But he couldn’t. Not without destroying his daughter and himself.

  TWENTY

  “The Mariner’s Compass Quilt reminds me that in murky times, the Amish rely on the Word to steer their course.”

  —HANNAH SCHWARTZ,

  IN The Amish Faith Through Their Quilts

  The desire to be certain burned Hannah’s veins. “Could we stop and see my cousin Mary before we go to your aunt’s?” she asked as Matt pulled out of the parking lot. Rain drummed against the top of the vehicle and sluiced over the windshield.

  “Do you think she’ll talk to you about such a personal matter?”

  “I don’t know. But I have to ask. If I know she gave a child up for adoption, I’ll know for sure that Reece is lying to me. It will put my mind at rest. And if she knows who has the child, that might lead us to important information. The little girl is on my mother’s quilt.”

  “You’re sure about that? The picture isn’t that big.”

  He seemed determined to disbelieve her. “I’m positive. I’m a quilt expert, remember?”

  “I’m just not sure the quilt means anything more than that the killer finally started selling them off.”

  She didn’t want to admit he might be right. Craning her neck, she pointed out an older house in Nyesville. “There’s her place.” Matt parked at the curb, and Hannah got out as soon as the SUV stopped rolling. She dashed through the downpour to the porch. When she knocked, the door opened immediately.

  Mary’s face lit when she saw Hannah. “I didn’t think you’d really come.” She opened the door wide. “Come in out of the storm. I just put on a fresh pot of coffee. And I made some peanut butter cookies. They’re still warm.” She led them into an immaculate living room decorated in blue and yellow. The chintz fabric on the sofa and overstuffed chair looked new.

  Hannah settled onto the sofa. “I hope you don’t mind us barging in without calling first.”

  “I’m tickled to death to see you! There’s no one left on my mom’s side of the family. My parents live clear across the country, and I get lonesome for family sometimes.”

  Her cousin’s eager welcome made Hannah want to crawl under the sofa. She should have come sooner. Her gaze lingered on some pictures on the table. Standing beside her mother, Cathy, Mary smiled out from the photo.

  “How about that coffee and cookies?” Mary asked.

  “I’d love some,” Hannah said, even though the thought of more caffeine didn’t appeal. Her cousin was so eager to please. “You need some help?”

  “No, you wait here. I’ll be back in a flash.” And she was. Two minutes later she returned to the room with coffee and cookies on a tray. “There’s creamer in the little pitcher, and sugar as well,” she said.

  Hannah stirred creamer into her coffee and tried to think how she might bring up the subject of children. Maybe just show Mary the picture. She could ask if Mary had seen the child. She sipped the coffee, then put it down on the table and picked up her handbag. “I wondered if you might be able to help me.” She pulled out the picture and handed it to Mary.

  Mary took it and glanced at it. Her smile turned plastic. “What a cute little girl. Who is she?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out.” She launched into the story of how she came to have the picture. Mary listened intently, but her expression didn’t betray what she was thinking. “I’ve got to find out if this child is mine,” she said. “Do you have any idea who she could be? You said you didn’t have children?”

  Mary handed back the picture. “Not now. I had a little boy, but he died when he was a week old.”

  Which explained the sadness in Mary’s face when Hannah had first asked. So this little girl might still be Hannah’s daughter. Elation made her voice raise. “Have you ever seen this child?”

  Mary shook her head. “I’m sorry, no. Do you believe Reece? He would have needed help hiding the baby from you and the police.”

  Had Reece been with her every minute after her tumble down the stairs? She vaguely remembered drifting in and out of consciousness, and he’d been by her bedside every time. “Maybe he had an accomplice. I’m going to ask him to explain it the next time he calls.”

  She and Matt finished their visit, then managed to get away from Mary after promising to come back when Hannah could stay longer.

  “You ready to go home?” Matt asked.

  “I want to go see Irene,” Hannah said. “We’ve still got enough time.” A frown crouched between his eyes, and she wondered what had made him so quiet and grumpy.

  “I guess,” he said. “But let’s not stay long. I’ve got things to do this afternoon.” He hesitated. “Just to warn you, Irene can be a little strange. She’s got some mental issues and may seem a bit off now and again.”

  Hannah nodded. She hadn’t seen Irene in over ten years and had never known the woman well. “I might ask her about my mother as well as using the quilts,” she said. Ajax thrust his nose in her hair, and she rubbed his muzzle.

  “I’ve been wanting to talk to h
er about the murders,” Matt said. “She knew all the victims well. I didn’t realize that until recently.”

  Matt parked on the street in front of a two-story house with a rounded brick turret on the front. Oak trees shaded the quaint house, and hyacinths lined the brick walk to the front door. Hannah’s pulse quickened, but she didn’t know why. There should be nothing dangerous about talking to Irene.

  Matt let Ajax out, then went around to Hannah’s door, but she’d already exited the vehicle and stood looking at the red front door. Before they reached the door, it swung open and a smiling Irene knelt to pet Ajax, who had leaped forward to greet her. With a final pat, she stood. Nearing sixty, she had only a little gray at the temples of her short dark hair. She was still slim and attractive in her capris and sleeveless top. She had a greenhouse in the yard like so many people in the area did.

  “What a nice surprise,” she said, hugging first Hannah and then Matt. “I didn’t even realize you two knew each other.”

  “We’ve known each other for over ten years,” Matt said.

  Hannah glanced at him, then away. That was stretching it a little, but maybe only a little.

  “Come in. I just made chocolate chip cookies, and they’re still warm.” Irene led them to the living room and went to kitchen.

  “I’ll help you,” Matt said. He hurried after her.

  Hannah heard the low tones of his voice but couldn’t make out any of the words. He sounded intense. The exchange wasn’t any of her business. Clearly he wanted to talk to his aunt in private. She glanced around the room. Pictures from years ago covered one wall. She got up and studied them. One in particular caught her attention. Irene, Nora, and Hannah’s mother stood with their arms around each other. They all had hair that reached their waists, parted in the middle and held in place with a headband that encircled their foreheads. They wore caftans.

  Someone had drawn red horns on Hannah’s mother’s head. Hannah gulped, then found her voice. It would probably be rude to mention the horns. Maybe a child had gotten hold of the picture. “Why isn’t Aunt Nora dressed Plain? Was this during her rumspringa?”