Plain Protector

by Alison Stone

  Why did most of her nervousness surrounding driving always have to circle around to her dad’s tragic accident? Accident? The man that had chosen to drink and then drive had killed her dad. That was no accident. He had acted willingly. Foolishly. Recklessly.

  Sarah shoved the thought aside and focused instead on this good deed. This was how she had gotten through life. Refocus all her negative energy on good deeds. Helping others.

  Her mother was right about her need to become a social worker. Worker, heal thyself.

  If only.

  She turned up the driveway and gripped the steering wheel tightly as the weight of the truck made the wooden slats of the makeshift bridge over the ditch groan. Calling to tell Nick he could retrieve his truck from a trench wasn’t on her list of things she wanted to do. He had already gone too far out of his way for her.

  Not to mention her strong desire not to be stranded in the middle of nowhere. She glanced over at her purse on the passenger seat, grateful she had a phone.

  Sarah parked the truck alongside a broken-down home with gray siding that probably hadn’t seen the underside of a paintbrush in fifty years. An abandoned Amish buggy sat unused and broken next to a barn farther back on the property. She had automatically assumed the caller was not Amish and figured that still might be the case, considering it wasn’t unusual for the Amish to sell their homes to the Englisch and vice versa. She squinted through the windshield. Someone lived here? A child, no less?

  Unease and goose bumps swept across her skin. Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to venture out here alone.

  Before she lost her nerve, Sarah pushed open the truck’s door and stepped out. Renewed determination to help this small family urged her forward. If she didn’t help them, it was likely no one would.

  Sarah grabbed the two bags of groceries she had picked up at the store, not wanting to take the time to visit the food pantry at church. God forgive her, but there was no such thing as a quick visit to the church with the pastor’s wife there. She was a talker.

  Sarah grabbed the handles of the plastic bags and strode toward the door. Dappled light filtered through the branches onto the pathway, stepping stones littered with brown pine needles. The word isolated popped into her mind. She pushed her shoulders back, much as she had done when approaching a new client’s house, especially in a tough neighborhood.

  Never let them see you sweat.

  Sarah knocked on the door, and much to her surprise, it swung open on creaky hinges.

  “Hello?” She poked her head in. The room was sparse with garbage gathered in the corners. A stroller parked in the middle of the room was the only indication someone with a child lived here.

  “Hello?” Pulse pounding in her ears, Sarah stepped into the room. A baby blanket was bunched up in the stroller with a stuffed animal. A bottle was abandoned in the pile. Sarah picked it up and sniffed it. The milk wasn’t spoiled, so someone had been here recently with a baby.

  Her heart sank when she thought of a baby living in this squalor. A stale, dusty scent tickled her nose.

  “Hello,” she called again, her voice squeaky. All her training taught her to wait outside, make herself aware of her surroundings. Yet here she was standing in the middle of a seemingly deserted house.

  All alone.

  A breeze lifted the torn lacy curtain covering the window, and a shiver raced down Sarah’s spine.

  Sarah spun around and ran out of the house the way she had come in, suddenly feeling vulnerable. When she stepped outside, a breeze whispered across her damp skin.

  Her ears perked when she heard a dog barking around back. Relief washed over her. They must have stepped outside and didn’t hear me at the front door.

  Adjusting the grocery bags in her grip, she made her way to the back, watching her step on the uneven ground. When she reached the other side of the house, abandoned toys from a yellow dump truck to a red plastic wagon littered the yard. On closer inspection, it seemed someone had used the neglected Amish buggy as a climbing toy. A child had left a small car on the seat.

  Sarah set the groceries on a shaded patch under a large tree in the yard. Rubbing her palms together, she spun around to listen for the dog again. Maybe it had been a neighbor’s pet.

  Then she heard it. The barking sounded like it was coming from inside the barn. The barn—in a state of disrepair much like the house—sat in a strip of sun, making it seem less ominous. The barking grew frantic now, and Sarah wondered what was wrong. Perhaps the young woman who had called her had been hurt.

  What about her baby?

  Breaking into a jog, Sarah reached the open barn door. It took her eyes a minute to adjust to the heavy shadows broken up by sunlight slipping in through wooden slats, shrunken over time. The barking seemed to be coming from above her. That’s when she saw him. A fluffy white dog standing on the ledge of the loft barking at her.

  Sarah glanced around. Other than a few rusted tools, the barn, like the house, seemed to be uninhabited.

  “How’d you get up there?” she said to the dog while approaching the loft. A ladder rested against the edge, and her confused mind wondered if the dog had climbed the ladder.

  That wasn’t possible, was it?

  Sarah knew she couldn’t leave the dog up there. If no one came for it, he’d die of thirst.

  But how did he get up there?

  Sarah grabbed her phone out of her purse and stuffed it into the back pocket of her jeans, feeling better about having it with her. She put her purse down on the straw-covered ground and grabbed a rung of the ladder. She shook it, trying to determine if it would hold her weight. It seemed pretty solid, and she didn’t weigh that much.

  The dog barked frantically down at her. The urge to rescue the dog and get back home was suddenly overwhelming.

  Cautiously, she climbed the first few rungs of the ladder. The third rung creaked under her weight. Afraid she’d lose her nerve, she rushed to the top. When she reached the edge of the loft, the furry dog licked her face. “Hold on.” Sarah scrunched up her face against the onslaught of kisses. “Back up so I don’t fall.” She laughed at the dog’s enthusiasm. “How did you get up here anyway?” She grabbed on to the top of the ladder with one hand and held the dog back with the other. She debated for a minute how she was going to tuck the dog under her arm and navigate the ladder.

  Holding on tight, she glanced down at the ground. From up here, it seemed much farther than when she was at the bottom looking up. Her knees grew weak.

  This was so not a good idea. Didn’t fire departments rescue animals? The phone she had stuffed into the back pocket of her jeans rang. She grabbed it with the hand that she had been holding the dog’s collar with, and the furry animal took the opportunity to lick her squarely on the cheek. “Cut it out,” she said before answering the call.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, where are you?”

  “I’m at a farm on Route 62 just past the Troyers’ nursery. I got a call from...” Out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadow explode out of the dark corner and bear down on her. A scream ripped from her throat as she dropped the cell phone.

  She watched it smash against the barn floor in disbelief.

  Panic had her scrambling down the ladder before she lost her balance and tumbled to the ground.

  And then nothing.

  * * *

  Nick tossed money on the table, more than enough to cover his meal and tip, even though the diner offered those in law enforcement a meal for free. He jogged out to his patrol vehicle and flipped on the lights and headed toward Route 62 and the Troyers’ nursery.

  Strangely, he found himself saying a quick prayer for Sarah’s safety. He hadn’t said a prayer since he had been in a war-torn country, where the constant battles, death and destruction wore on him, making him question why he even both
ered.

  Just past the nursery, he slowed and glanced at each farm as he passed by. There weren’t too many, but then he saw his truck parked in front of an old house and he couldn’t help but mutter, “Thank You, Lord.”

  His relief was short lived when he noticed the windshield of his truck was smashed. Nick glanced around, but didn’t see any sign of Sarah.

  “Sarah!” he called.

  No answer.

  He jogged up to the house and found the front door ajar. “Sheriff’s deputy,” he announced as he strode into the abandoned house. It appeared as if a squatter lived here. Yet, a relatively new-looking stroller sat in the middle of the room.

  Had Sarah come here to help a young mother?

  Where are you, Sarah?

  Nick made his way out the back door where he heard a dog barking from the rundown barn. With his hand hovering over his weapon, he moved quickly to the barn. He flattened himself against the exterior barn wall and leaned around to peer into the barn, not wanting to make himself a target.

  It took his eyes a minute to adjust to the heavy shadows. His attention was drawn to the loft, where a dog was barking frantically. Then his gaze dropped. Sarah lay on the ground, unconscious.

  Nick quickly scanned the barn, and except for the barking dog and the back of the loft where he couldn’t see, the place seemed deserted.

  He crouched by Sarah’s side and brushed her hair out of her face. A steady pulse beat in her throat, and once again he thought, Thank You, Lord.

  “Sarah, Sarah... It’s Nick. Wake up.”

  Sarah’s face scrunched up, and then she opened her eyes and winced. “Oh...what happened?”

  She tried to push up on an elbow, and Nick told her to relax. Stay put.

  “I was hoping you could tell me what happened.”

  “I was called out here by a young mom who needed assistance. When she wasn’t home—” Sarah seemed to be struggling to piece together her memory of events “—I heard the dog.” Her gaze drifted to the loft. “He’s still up there. Someone else was up there.” Her pale face grew whiter. “I was trying to get away and fell.”

  “Who? Did you see his face?”

  She winced. “No.”

  “Stay put.”

  He aimed his gun toward the loft as he climbed the ladder slowly, hoping not to make a sound. To gain the advantage. Otherwise he was going to be in some serious trouble if someone appeared in the loft pointing a gun down at him.

  The dog’s barking grew frantic. That wasn’t going to help him.

  When Nick reached the top, he stared into the far reaches of the loft. The heavy shadows made it hard to discern if someone was lurking there. When nothing moved, he pulled himself onto the loft and tested his weight on the aged beams. Trusting that it was going to hold him, he moved swiftly to check each corner of the loft.

  Empty.

  Whoever had been waiting for Sarah was gone.

  His stomach dropped. Sarah was alone on the floor of the barn. He moved to the edge of the loft and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Sarah sitting against a support beam.

  “I thought I told you to stay put.”

  She lifted her palms. “I did. I think I sprained my ankle. I hope it’s not broken.” Thankfully, she had made it half way down the ladder before she fell.

  Nick scooped up the dog under his arm and backed down the ladder. He put the fur ball down on the ground, and the dog promptly ran to Sarah and licked her.

  A beautiful smile graced her face as she playfully tried to fend the rambunctious dog off. “Friendly little thing.” She felt around his furry neck. “No collar.”

  “I want to get you to the health-care clinic. Check you out.” Nick crouched next to Sarah and plucked a strand of hay out of her hair.

  Her smile grew serious. “Jimmy’s not going to stop, is he?”

  “We don’t know that it’s him.” Nick knew he was grasping at straws. They had to find a way to trap this guy.

  “Who else would do this?” Sarah glanced up at the loft. “He wants to hurt me. He’s mad that I left, and now he’s toying with me. Making me suffer.”

  “Who called you out here?”

  “A young woman. She said her name was Jade Johnston.” She frowned and rubbed her forehead.

  “We’ll have to find her. Get her to answer some questions. But that can wait. Can you stand?” Nick asked, eager to get her safely home.

  “On one foot.” She scooted forward, and Nick wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her up. Her hair smelled of flowers and hay, and a warmness surrounded his heart.

  If only they had met under different circumstances. She wasn’t in a relationship frame of mind, and he had been burned himself. But that wasn’t something to think about now.

  The dog barked at their feet.

  Nick supported Sarah, and she tried to hop walk. She groaned as she leaned heavily on him. Suddenly, Nick had an urge to get out of here, fast.

  “I’m going to carry you.”

  Before she had a chance to protest, he swept her off her feet. In an effort to lighten the mood, he grumbled, pretending she was heavy.

  She playfully tapped his chest. “Thanks a lot.” She pointed back to the fluffy little white dog. “We can’t leave him here.”

  “Come on, girl,” Nick said and the dog ran at his heels while he strode out of the barn, determined to tuck Sarah safely in his vehicle and get her away from this deserted place.

  Immediately.

  * * *

  Sarah wrapped her arm around Nick’s neck and tried to support her own weight. But each time she put weight on her one ankle, pain shot up her leg.

  She appreciated his help, but she felt more than a little foolish when Nick lifted her, as if he were carrying a bride on her wedding day. With her aching ankle, she didn’t have much choice. She just prayed it wasn’t broken.

  She was embarrassed that she had come out here alone and allowed herself to be a target.

  Sarah hadn’t exactly had a good year.

  As Nick rounded the dilapidated house carrying her, Sarah’s mind immediately went to the stroller she had found inside. But all thoughts of that disappeared when she saw his truck.

  “Oh, your truck.” The windshield was smashed. She felt sick to her stomach. “That’s something Jimmy would do,” she whispered. “He probably thinks we’re dating, and he wants to destroy your truck.” If he was watching her house he would have seen it parked there. He might have gotten the wrong idea.

  Nick didn’t slow his pace. When he reached his patrol vehicle, he put her down. Sarah supported herself on one foot on the hard-packed dirt. “I’m sorry.”

  “Lean against the car.”

  She did as she was told, and he unlocked the front passenger door and held it open for her. “Get in.”

  Nick helped guide her inside, then leaned across her to buckle her in. He smelled clean, like soap and aloe. She hated that she was causing so many problems for this sweet man.

  He opened the back door for the dog and she hopped right in. “I’ll swing back later and see if I can locate the owners.”

  Once he climbed in his side, he said, “Don’t worry about my truck. That can be fixed.”

  Sarah tried to move her ankle and groaned. “I’m sure my ankle can be fixed, too.”

  Nick shifted in the driver’s seat to face her. “We have to catch this guy. You shouldn’t have to live like this, always looking over your shoulder.”

  Sarah’s heart sank. “Maybe it’s time for me to move.”

  A shadow crossed the depths of his eyes, eliciting an emotion she couldn’t quite name. “Do you think running will solve your problems?”

  Tears burned the back of her eyes. “Mom’s sick. I can’t subject her to this.”


  “And moving will be a good thing?”

  “Of course not.” Guilt and fear were her steady companions.

  “You’re safer in Apple Creek with me to protect you.” As long as she stayed home.

  Renewed anger boiled in her gut. She wasn’t a violent person, but the way she felt right now, she could wring Jimmy’s neck.

  Without waiting for her reply, Nick started the car and turned around to get out of the driveway. “I’ll have a tow truck pick up my truck later. We need to get you checked out at the clinic.”

  Sarah shifted in her seat, trying to get comfortable.

  “I don’t know what I’d do if I hadn’t met you.”

  Sometimes God puts people in your path when you need them most.

  Nick gave her a quick, sideways glance. “I’m glad you didn’t have to find out.”

  TEN

  The next few days were quiet as Sarah recuperated from her sprained ankle. Thankfully, it was just a sprained ankle. Her mother and she had caught up with a few episodes of their favorite show on Netflix. Their dog, who they named Lola, seemed content, like she had belonged to them all her life. Nick had tried to find her owner without success. Sarah was happy for the little fur ball.

  Nick spent nights at her home, hoping to catch Jimmy—or whoever it was—in the act of harassing her, but mostly Sarah supposed Nick only caught a crick in his neck and bags under his eyes.

  Nick still slipped in after dark and left just after the sun rose. It seemed he wanted to protect her, but not intrude on her life.

  The phone number of the young woman who had called to lure Sarah to the abandoned barn had been a dead end. And according to county records, the house had been abandoned for three years. Jade Johnston didn’t exist. Someone had been very careful.

  “Hello,” Mary Ruth called from the back door. “I brought dinner.”

  Sarah aimed the remote at the TV, and the screen went dark. She tried to respect Mary Ruth by keeping TV and other worldly things at a minimum when she was around. And lately, she had been a huge help, providing meals and companionship as Sarah recovered from a concussion and a sprain.