Beside him on the bench, Annalise cradled her cell phone in one hand and rapidly jabbed at it with the forefinger of the other. Her motions were too erratic to be dialing a phone number. She was going straight to the Internet, no doubt intending to become an expert in something or other in the next few minutes. During his rumschpringe, when he tried out some of the English ways of living before he was baptized, Rufus dabbled with the Internet. He knew how easy it was to get information quickly. Perhaps she was researching her options for getting out of Westcliffe and would know more than he did by the time they got to town.
Rufus wished he did not care that she was leaving so soon. But Tom was right. Annalise Friesen had spunk, something that compelled him to turn his head and look at her again.
“How much farther?” Annie raised her eyes to the road before them and shoved her phone into her back pocket.
“About two miles,” Rufus said.
“Is it straight down this road?”
He nodded.
“You were right this morning,” she said, inhaling. “I forget to look at the view.”
“Sit back and enjoy.”
“Actually, I’m wondering if I should walk the rest of the way.” She met his gaze and saw for the first time the violet-blue dance of his eyes. “I just follow the road, right?”
“That’s right. It would be hard to get lost at this point.”
“Then if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to walk.” Annie tightened her grip on her bag and breathed in the mingled scents of roadside vegetation.
Rufus pulled on the reins, and Dolly slowed. “Are you sure about this?”
Annie nodded.
“It feels strange to just leave you on the side of the road.”
Annie shrugged. “It’s a beautiful day and a simple walk.”
“You won’t know where to go when you get there.”
“They speak English in Westcliffe, don’t they?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed up and then down as he swallowed his reply.
“I know you think I can’t look after myself or else I would not be here,” Annie said, “but I assure you, I’m fine. Thank you for the accommodations last night, and I hope Mr. Kramer comes to his senses soon.”
“Thank you,” Rufus said.
“Please thank your mother for me as well.”
“I will. If you’re ever down this way again, I’m sure she would enjoy seeing you. I know Jacob would.”
The buggy stopped, and Annie climbed down. To be polite, she looked at Rufus, but she tried not to really see him, lest she decide to get back in the buggy just because he was there. The sensation shivered out of her.
“Look for Mrs. Weichert’s shop on Main Street,” Rufus said. “She sells some of my mother’s preserves. Sometimes her daughter has business in Pueblo. She might give you a ride.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Annie stood still and watched Rufus ease the buggy back onto the highway. Then with her bag slung over one shoulder, she progressed toward town in no particular hurry. Hues of green and brown and red she had never before noticed passed imperceptibly from one to the other. A breeze stirred in a pristine Colorado blue sky and ruffled her hair with a tender touch.
She was free.
She wasn’t suspecting Barrett. She wasn’t dodging Rick. She wasn’t juggling three calls on her phone. She wasn’t reading between the lines of a contract. And while it was not impossible for Rick to discover where she was—he could pull strings and find a way to track her—it was unlikely he was anywhere nearby.
Free. Please, God, let it be so.
Another mile down the road, a blue-and-red sign announced the presence of a roadside motel. Annie’s eyes followed the direction of the arrow and saw the humble structure set back from the road and up a steep slope. The building was not large—perhaps twenty rooms—and the outdoor green-and-purple color scheme was hideous. Nevertheless, the place whispered her name. Giving into whimsy, Annie turned her steps toward the motel.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She paused with one hand ready to extract it.
Five
The screen announced, MOM/DAD. Annie answered the call.
“Where in the world are you?” Myra Friesen demanded. “I just want a peaceful cup of coffee with the newspaper, and the phone won’t stop ringing.”
“I’m sorry,” Annie said. “I’m fine. No one needs to worry. Who called?”
“The police called about your car.”
Annie grimaced. “What happened?”
“That’s what they want to know. It was parked in front of a hotel but not registered to any known guest. So it got towed. Imagine my surprise when I sit down with my morning coffee and get that phone call. I had no idea you still had your car registered at our address.”
“I’ve been meaning to change that,” Annie said. “What did they do with it?”
“The towing company has it. They’ll charge you for storage, you know, if you don’t go get it.”
“I don’t think I can get it today.” She could afford to store the vehicle indefinitely. At least Rick did not have his grubby hands on it.
“Where are you, Annie?” Myra asked again. “You sound like you’re outside.”
“I am.” Annie licked her lips. “I had to go out of town for business reasons, but I’m enjoying the beautiful day.”
“Your assistant called, too. She didn’t say anything about a business trip.”
“I didn’t have a chance to tell Jamie before I left. I’ll catch her up soon. Go back to your coffee.”
“What about Rick?”
“What about him?”
“When he called, he seemed quite concerned that he did not know where you are. Considering how close you two have been, it was odd that he thought I would know your whereabouts when he doesn’t.”
Annie sighed. “Rick and I are not close now, Mom. I don’t tell him everything.”
“When I told him about the car, he was concerned something happened to you.”
Yeah, right. He wishes.
“I’m fine,” Annie said. “I just need to take care of a few things before I come home.”
“You still haven’t said where you are.”
“It’s better if you don’t know, Mom. Trust me.”
“That sounds ominous. Are you going to have to break my kneecaps?”
“Maybe. You know, the usual top secret stuff with a tech company in the cutthroat modern business world.”
Myra laughed. “Next you’re going to tell me not to bother my pretty little head about it.”
“Something like that.”
“I don’t understand most of your techno-garble anyway. Do you want me to get your car out of hock? I could go to your condo for the extra keys.”
“Don’t bother. E-mail me the name of the tow company, and I’ll deal with it.” After a pause, she added, “Use the private family e-mail address.”
They were quiet for a beat, then Myra spoke, “Honey, are you really all right?”
“Fine, Mom. I’m fine.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
After the call disconnected, Annie considered her phone. For years she literally never powered her phone off. Perhaps the moment had come. It might at least slow down Rick’s search. With no doubt in her mind that it was only a matter of time before he wore down his contact in the police department and triangulated her location, she powered off and stuck the phone back in her pocket.
Her attention reverted to the motel before her. She had not stayed anywhere but a five-star resort in years. Her business dealings required a certain image of success. But this place was a portal to another world. No one would think to look for her here.
Rufus Beiler assumed she wanted to leave as soon as possible. Annie certainly had led him to that conclusion. But a nondescript motel in a place she had never been before might
be exactly where she belonged now. The Steamboat Springs reservation had already gone to waste. Westcliffe might be just the place to set up a temporary headquarters and try to thwart the alliance that Barrett and Rick had formed.
Instinctively, she reached for her phone to log on and see if the two men she had trusted most—until a few days ago—had managed to do any damage in the last two hours. The black screen reminded her she had taken step one in cutting herself off from them.
Annie decided. Ten minutes later, she put seventy dollars cash on the counter in the motel’s small lobby.
“We do take credit cards.” The middle-aged woman behind the counter tended toward plump and battled gray. “Debit also.”
“Cash is more convenient for me.” Annie could not afford to reveal any movement on her financial accounts right now. Rick knew too much about them, and Barrett could get into anything he decided to get into.
Except my program, she thought, at least so far.
“My name’s Mo,” the woman said. “Let me know if you need anything. Breakfast runs from seven to nine.”
The room was modest and in need of fresh paint, but the owner clearly wanted to bill the place as belonging in the twenty-first century. The television was small, but it was a flat screen with basic cable channels. The high-speed Internet access would let her use her computer without turning on her phone. Annie plugged in both laptop and cell phone to juice them up.
Next she spent a few minutes scrambling the passwords of every online account she could think of, even minor sites she had no reason to believe Rick would be interested in tracking. She checked on the secure server that backed up her software program and breathed relief when she saw no evidence Barrett had hacked his way in, though she saw several new attempts that morning. Annie puzzled over what else she could do to ensure he would never succeed and clicked her way around the keys for another half hour. Then she stretched out on the bed and turned on the television to pass the time until computer and phone were fully powered. Idly, she searched “Amish in Colorado” and read several newspaper reports of the group’s migration west. Every few minutes she glanced at the charging icons to monitor progress.
When she slammed Rick’s head with the duffel back in the aspen grove, Annie surrendered personal items that would have kept her going for a few days. At minimum, she was going to need a fresh shirt and perhaps a baggy T-shirt to sleep in. Annie pulled up Google Maps and looked at the route between the motel and Westcliffe shops.
The walk to Westcliffe’s quaint Main Street was an easy mile with the placid mystery of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains unfolding in constant view. Annie followed the gray highway across ground growth rolling in yellowish stripes before giving way to an irrigated green that signaled a town. A hazy memory niggled at her of a family trip to the Great Sand Dunes when she was small. Her intuition told her she was not far from where she played in a flowing creek with her sister while her mother sat in an orange lawn chair with her feet in the water on a beastly hot day. Other than that, Annie could not recollect being in this part of the state. Now the beauty crooked a finger at her, and she did not reach for the phone in her pocket even once.
Annie’s pace slowed as she came into town and guessed at the ages of the stone and brick buildings that anchored it. A gabled church bell tower thrust a cross into the air, and Annie’s feet turned in that direction without explanation. At the sight of it, a hundred years of history shivered through her, and she wondered if the residents who built the church could have imagined what she did for a living. The simple old-fashioned church stirred in her an impression of a place to belong. Before it became historic, this was simply a church where the community gathered.
The twentieth century had rumbled through the region, leaving in its wake signs that lit up and blinked, vehicles of various eras, practical business shelters, rehabbed houses, and ATMs. Yet the town stood poised in the past, weighing its future.
The ATM outside a stately bank gave her pause. How long could she stay afloat without resorting to a traceable electronic transfer of funds? She could not afford to lose herself in daydreams of scenery and history. She had a business to protect, and neither Rick nor Barrett would give up just because she managed to give them the slip. There was always her retirement fund. Rick might not think to track an IRA that she opened before she met him. The tax hit would be worth it if it meant she could halt Rick’s aggression.
On Main Street, Annie found a couple of promising shops and rummaged for essentials. Surely it was only a matter of a couple of days, a week at the most, before she could safely return home. She would hire someone to help her, and in a few days she would stop Rick and Barrett’s attempt at legal thievery of her creative work.
Annie thought of Rufus. The offense against him was plain to see, and now it was spreading to his friend. Yet he refused to take action.
I’ve got too much invested, she thought. I’m not giving up without a fight.
She stood in the bright afternoon sunlight, unsure what to do next. Find food, she supposed. She could have a meal now and take something back to the motel for later.
A passing patch of purple made Annie lift her eyes from the sidewalk. Two Amish women, one middle-aged and one younger, exited a furniture store. Annie considered the sign that hung over the door and surmised it was an Amish business. The women smiled at her as they passed on the sidewalk then entered the same discount store Annie had just come out of. Annie watched their long skirts and sturdy shoes disappear from view—then chided herself for staring. No one else seemed to find the women’s movements noteworthy.
An image of herself in the dress Rufus had left in the barn flashed through Annie’s mind. It hardly seemed possible that only that morning she had woken to his peculiar offering.
Annie glanced around the street, stuffed her purchases in her shoulder bag, and scouted the environs for any sort of restaurant. She ate quickly at a sandwich shop, promising herself that when she was not under pressure to save her business, she would return to explore Westcliffe. On the way out of town, she noted the gas station with a couple of cars for sale and idly wondered how she could buy one without leaving a trail.
She shook the thought out of her head. I have a perfectly good car. I just have to clean up this mess, and I can go get it.
An hour later, Annie was showered and wearing her jeans with a fresh forest green T-shirt. A front porch ran across the length of the motel with Adirondack chairs scattered at irregular intervals. Annie settled into one with her laptop. The vista was nearly irresistible, but she forced herself to focus, compromising by working where the sun warmed her skin. If she could sort out a plan for dealing with Rick and Barrett, she would have plenty of time to relish the views.
Rufus spent the day sanding and staining detail pieces for woodwork around the house under construction and satisfying himself that the mantel was perfect. Tom showed up in the midafternoon with the new load, and the crew started on framing in the family room cabinetry. On his way out of town, Rufus took the buggy to an office building where the owners were dabbling with the idea of renovating and wanted him to quote on the job. He collected measurements, asked a few questions, and promised to make a formal bid. Perhaps if he focused more on remodeling rather than new construction, Karl Kramer would stop harassing him.
It was almost six o’clock when he let Dolly move at her own pace down the road toward home. His mind wandered to what awaited him at the farm.
Jacob could be a daydreamer. No one doubted the little boy’s good intentions when he headed out for his chores, but often it fell to Rufus to double-check and make sure the animals had hay and fresh water and to look for eggs Jacob missed. His sisters, twelve and fourteen years old, were more dependable about milking the family’s only cow and keeping up with churning butter and making cheese. Daed would have been in the alfalfa fields all day with sixteen-year-old Joel and no doubt would be soaking his sore feet by the time Rufus came through the door. Mamm would put down her s
ewing and check on the chicken potpie in the oven.
A mile out of town, Rufus happened to glance up from the road. Even from a distance he was sure of the slender form stretched out in the Adirondack chair, her hay-colored hair hanging loose as she hunched over a computer.
What was she still doing there?
Six
Annie rubbed her eyes and glanced up just in time to see Dolly clip-clop past. Was it her imagination, or was Rufus Beiler looking at her just before the buggy moved out of sight behind a tower of blue spruce?
Rufus Beiler.
Annie’s hand moved to the phone in her back pocket. When she had spoken to her mother, she missed her chance to ask about the Byler name in her own family history. She hesitated over turning the phone on, but curiosity mounted, and she hit the speed dial number for her parents’ house.
“Mom, it’s me.”
“Are you all right?”
“Fine, Mom. Relax. I just remembered a question I wanted to ask.”
“What’s that, honey?”
“I met someone named Beiler today, and that got me thinking about Daddy’s grandparents. Wasn’t there a name like Beiler in the family?”
“It rings a bell, but I’m not the best at keeping track of your father’s side of the family tree.”
“I suppose I could ask Daddy, but I don’t think he keeps track, either.”
“His grandparents died when he was a little boy. He never talks about them.”
“But I saw the name somewhere. Malinda Byler.” Annie spelled the name. “I think it was a maiden name. Are you sure you don’t know anything?”
“Aunt Lennie gave us a book years ago,” Myra said. “A genealogy mishmash that some distant cousin put together.”
“That’s it!” Annie said. “It had a black comb binding and a pink cover. I remember looking at it in high school.”
“It must still be around here somewhere. You can look in the basement the next time you come.”
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