“Don’t be a fool,” Jonathan said. “You have nowhere to go and I’m not going to let you take her. I really don’t want to kill you. Please, don’t make me.”
Seconds passed. The wind brushed the trees. The setting sun blazed across the horizon. Then the young man crouched slowly and set Celeste on the snowy ground. She groaned softly, stretched and curled up into a ball. Thank You, God!
“Hands up!” Jonathan barked. “Step away from her! Now! What did you do to her?”
But as he stepped closer, one whiff of the sweet scene in the air told him even before the criminal did.
“Just chloroform!” The man’s hands shot straight above his head. “Small amount! Just so she’d come easy.”
“You mean, just so she couldn’t fight back!” Jonathan gritted his teeth. Okay, it would take a while to wear off, but she should be okay. The way the man’s eyes darted to the skyline and back told him everything he needed to know. “You’re a coward. You could’ve killed all of us, and for what?”
“Look, I don’t want any trouble!” The man’s voice shook. “I just really, really need the money. And I wasn’t going to hurt her. I promise!”
The money. Again, this promise of money had criminals taking foolish risks to hurt her. How could he or Stacy or any US marshal ever hope to protect her from something like this? From desperate people taking foolish risks from every corner to get their hands on her?
“Tell me, how much money is her life worth?”
The man didn’t answer.
“Fifty thousand dollars?”
“I wasn’t going to hurt her. I promise.”
“You drugged and tried to kidnap a woman for fifty thousand dollars!” Jonathan barked.
The man’s eyes grew wide. They were glassy and bloodshot. Pity stabbed Jonathan’s heart. He was probably an addict. “Yes...sir... I wasn’t going to hurt her. I promise! Nothing bad was going to happen to her!”
He wasn’t sure who the man needed to convince more, Jonathan or himself. He’d had enough of this. He was going to get his answers right here, right now. “Where were you going to take her? Who were you taking her to?”
“Nobody! I wasn’t taking her anywhere!” The man’s eyes grew wide. His arms began to bend, but Jonathan’s weapon twitched in his hand and the man’s arms shot back up again. “I was taking her to a motel room, but not to do anything bad! I promise! All I needed to do was what the website said. I needed to take a video of her, showing I had her, and upload it to Poindexter’s website. Then I’d get the money sent to me. Anonymously.”
“Then what?”
“Then nothing!” he stammered. “Once the money was in my account, I was going to leave her there, call 9-1-1 and then the police would come get her! Promise!”
No, whoever was behind this would’ve made him give them his address and wait there until they arrived. Then they’d have killed him. He didn’t even want to imagine what they’d have planned for Celeste. He allowed himself one quick glance at her, curled on the ground, sheltered by the warm cloak Rosie had given her.
Hang on, please. Just one moment longer.
His heart ached between the desire to do his job and the need to sweep her up into his arms. Instead, he steeled his resolve. He’d been chasing his tail like a barn cat ever since he’d rescued her from the farmhouse.
“Is it true the same website that has people trying to kidnap her is giving out rewards for taking her picture or posting video of where she is?” Jonathan asked. “And who’s behind this? Who’s giving the orders?”
The man blinked. “Poindexter!”
“Poindexter is in jail awaiting trial!” Jonathan shouted. “His real name is Dexter Thomes!”
“No, the feds arrested the wrong guy! Celeste was wrong. Dexter Thomes isn’t Poindexter. The real Poindexter is out there! He keeps posting updates and instructions!”
That may be what the man believed—Jonathan didn’t for an instant. Celeste was convinced that the man she had tracked down, Dexter Thomes, was Poindexter and that was good enough for him.
“Besides!” he added. “Some people online are saying that not only is Dexter Thomes not Poindexter, he isn’t even in jail! Police are covering up the fact he escaped! It’s all over the dark web!”
How do I protect her from the enemy when the enemy is the internet itself and its ability to exploit people’s greed and their willingness to spread lies?
“How did you know where to find us?” Jonathan asked. The man’s hand flinched toward his pocket. “Hands up!”
“I was just reaching for my phone!” he said. “I was going to show you! Poindexter’s set up a new portal on the dark web for people wanting to win money by helping him find her. Cell phone pictures, video clips, traffic cameras and store security footage. From there it’s really easy to triangulate possible locations and hope you get the right one. You know, the typical scavenger hunt stuff!”
How was a US marshal ever able to protect a witness from the entire electronic world?
Jonathan walked forward. “Put your hands on the hood of your car and keep them there. Don’t even think about moving.”
He advanced slowly, thankful to see the criminal back up as he did so. He waited until he saw him place his hands on the car, then he reached Celeste and crouched on one knee beside her. While he allowed himself only a quick glance at her from his peripheral vision, it was like every synapse in his brain and fiber in his body was keenly focused on her. He brushed his fingers along her face, felt her shudder against his touch and the warmth of her breath. He swept her up into his arms and cradled her there with one hand, while the other kept the gun trained on the criminal.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I’ll get you out of here and somewhere warm soon. I promise.”
“Please!” The man shook. “Don’t kill me! I just wanted the money.”
Him and how many others? And if this man had found them, how soon until the next one did?
“Throw your phone and your driver’s license down on the road,” Jonathan shouted. He had no choice but to let him go. If he made him walk or handcuffed him in his car, he could freeze to death before anyone found him. And taking him with them where he was going was definitely not an option. Hopefully, he wouldn’t make it too far with his car dented and wrecked from the collision. Jonathan had only one priority and she was currently nestled securely in the crook of him arm.
The man peeled out so quickly Jonathan was afraid he was going to spin out again. He fishtailed, righted himself and sped off.
Thank You, Gott.
He holstered his weapon and pulled Celeste deeper into his arms. Her eyes fluttered. Her body was limp in his arms, but her pulse was strong.
“Just give me one moment, and then I’m going to take you to the safest place I know.”
He steeled his heart. He was going back to Amish country. He was going to take her home.
ELEVEN
Celeste seemed to be drifting between awake and asleep, from what he could tell. He kept talking to her as he carried her to the car, promising her that when she woke up he’d make sure she was somewhere safe. He laid her carefully in the back seat of the truck long enough to kick the windshield out from the inside. Then he sat beside her in the back seat, cradling her face and neck with one arm while he checked the man’s ID.
Steven Penn, aged twenty. What a mundane name and a young age for someone to be in such a bad and desperate place. Poindexter’s page was open on Steven’s phone, open to a gallery of pictures. He scrolled. There it was, all of it. The location of the farmhouse safe house. Lee’s video phone footage of Miller’s attempt to kidnap her. Drone photos from the lot where they swapped out the trucks. Cell phone pictures from the diner, which he guessed were taken from the teenager of the electronics-addicted family. Then, finally, the traffic camera where he’d slowed to a stop outside Hope
’s Creek. No wonder they’d known how to find her. He talked the photos through with Celeste out loud as he looked at them, describing each one in turn. Could she hear him? He hoped so.
“You were right,” he said. He stroked her head. Her blond hair tumbled through his fingers. “The diner wasn’t as safe as I thought it was, and you were right about the drone. I should’ve listened to you. I should’ve told Hunter that you needed to be involved in setting up your own protection plan. We’ve never faced an enemy like this before. It’s not a person—it’s a swarm of enemies all connected by one unknown spider manipulating them through the web. I don’t know how to fight this. All I can do is run.”
He placed a quick call to an encrypted mailbox where he knew he could leave a message for Chief Deputy Hunter undetected. He told her there’d been another attempt on his assignment’s life and gave her Steven’s full name, social security number, driver’s license and license plate. He told her they were going dark, he’d call as soon as he could and he’d keep Celeste safe.
He left her buckled safely in the back seat of the truck, as far away from the missing windshield as possible. He placed the phone under the wheel of the truck and backed over it. Then he turned the truck around and drove back toward Hope’s Creek, sticking to back roads and inching along, feeling the cold breeze whipping at him over the dashboard and through the empty hole where the windshield had been.
His eyes cast constant glances in the rearview mirror. He watched as Celeste dozed, lying curled up sweet and peaceful, in the back seat of the truck, her chest rising and falling, and her eyes fluttering, as if she was in a restful sleep just awaiting someone to wake her. He kept talking to her as he drove. Not about anything important. Just stories from childhood, about barn cats and rabbits, and how he’d run down the hill with his brother and twisted his ankle, but stubbornly walked home on it anyway. As sun was setting low beneath the sky, he crested a steep hill and stopped at the top, looking down at the frozen lake that lay below.
“Okay, Celeste, this is where we get out,” he said. He put the car in Neutral, pulled the emergency brake and hopped out. Then he opened the back door and pulled Celeste into his arms again. “We need to ditch the vehicle. I suspect Steven is going to get picked up pretty soon and I don’t think anybody’s going to trace this old truck. But we can’t risk it. The last thing we want is someone spotting it on a traffic camera or drone.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured softly.
She nestled closer to him. The scent of her filled his senses. Protecting her was hardest thing he’d ever had to do in his life, but he wouldn’t have traded the assignment for anything in the world. He cradled her to his chest, popped the brake and leaned hard into the truck with one shoulder. The truck rolled slowly down the hill and out onto the ice. The tires skimmed across the surface for one brief moment before crashing through and sinking slowly under the water.
He waited. The wind shook the trees and buffeted his body. He held Celeste tighter.
She whimpered in his arms. “Jonathan? Where are we? What’s happening?”
“Shh, it’s okay,” he whispered. “You’re safe. I’ve got you. We’ve just got a little bit of a walk ahead of us.”
He bent down and pressed his forehead against hers, feeling the softness of her skin and the warmth of her breath. Their lips were so close that all it would’ve taken was to let himself move just an inch and their mouths would’ve touched. Instead, he pulled back, feeling something stir inside him, like something long dead coming to life.
Eventually the truck disappeared under the surface. His eyes rose, watching as the setting sun spread long lines of endless pink and gold along the darkening sky.
Help me, Lord, I can’t do this without You.
He started walking, trudging across the fields in knee-deep snow, taking one step at a time, with nothing but the bag over his shoulder, the clothes on his back and the woman he was bound to protect held in his arms.
“I’m taking you home, Celeste,” he said, not knowing if she could hear him, but that talking to her helped more than she’d ever know. “Back to the house where I grew up. You get to meet my father, Eli, and see the rest of the family again. I’m really very scared about it, honestly. Terrified. See, knowing you’ve made a mistake is a whole lot different than knowing how to fix it or what to say. I mean, how do you apologize for leaving home for years? What do you say? My father and I have always struggled to communicate. He really likes his silences. And now Mark says his health is failing. My brother put his life and his family’s lives on the line to protect us? How could he ever ask them to risk their lives again?”
The sky was an inky wash of dark purple and blue as the farm where he’d grown up in came into view. He’d always heard that things from childhood looked smaller than adults remembered. But somehow it was even bigger—a large farmhouse in the middle with its snow-covered roof and huge white porch, framed by a barn for the horses and another for the buggy and wagon, a hutch for the rabbits and chickens, and fields on the other, ringed by fences and trees. A second, smaller house not much larger than a cabin, had been built beside the main house since he’d left. That would be the grossdaadi house where his father lived.
His footsteps slowed as he carried her across the fields, down the long drive and to the front steps.
I’m not even sure how or why I started praying to You again, Gott. It kind of snuck up on me, but somehow I don’t know how to stop. There are so many ways this can go wrong. But Celeste said that if I trusted You that You would guide me. Please help me protect her. I need You now.
He knocked on the front door. It swung open. There stood a bearded man, with hair white from age and piercing blue eyes. Jonathan felt his head bow.
“Pa, forgive me.” He choked on unshed tears he’d never let fall. “I was wrong to leave and I am sure it hurt you to hear I came to town today and did not visit. I don’t know the right thing to say to heal what I did. But I’m here for your help. I need sanctuary. I need your help to protect this woman’s life.”
His father nodded. There was a long pause in which Jonathan could only guess what he was thinking. “Gott heals all things in His time.” He turned and looked over his shoulder, and it was only then that Jonathan saw Amos, Miriam, Rosie and Mark watching in a silent tableau from the kitchen doorway. “Come quickly. Your brother and this woman need our help.”
The smell of something warm and delicious and comforting roused Celeste slowly. She stretched to find she was lying on a bed that was so impossibly soft her body seemed to be sinking into the quilts. She opened her eyes, and it took her a long moment to adjust to the darkness. Then she saw the light of the moon, silver and simple, shining down through a gap in the curtains.
“How are you?” a woman’s voice asked. Then the golden glimmer of lamplight moved through the darkness. She rolled over and saw Miriam sitting on a chair by a low table.
“I’m okay, thank you,” Celeste said. She sat up slowly, feeling the grogginess that had kept pulling her under time and again recede to the edges of her mind.
She remembered everything that had happened since the car crash, and yet the memories were fuzzy, like dreams she’d kept drifting in and out of.
The car accident. The abduction attempt. Being chloroformed. The long cold drive before abandoning the truck and continuing on foot. And the stories Jonathan had told her. Dozens of them, it felt like, all about his childhood, his life and his childhood faith, as if the closed book of his life had suddenly opened up and spilled out when she was her weakest and needed something to hold on to in order to keep the fear at bay. Sudden emotion swelled in her chest. He’d been struggling so hard with coming back home, and yet he had, for her, to keep her safe.
Lord, whatever he’s doing now, wherever he is and whatever’s happening, please guide him and be with him.
“How’s Jonathan?” she asked. “Where is he? Is he
okay?”
“He’s asleep in the chair by the fire,” Miriam said. She stood slowly. “He stayed up sitting with Eli, his father, for a long while.”
Yes, she vaguely remembered the old man with the white beard and kind eyes who’d greeted them.
“What did they talk about?” Celeste asked.
Miriam smiled softly. “I don’t think they talked much at all. Sometimes it is better to sit and be silent with someone when you don’t have the right words to say. The Lord moves in silences just as well as He does in words. Now, I brought you some stew, along with some fresh bread, a glass of cold water and another of milk. Jonathan said you would be hungry.”
“Yes, I am, thank you.” Celeste swung her legs over the side of the bed and was grateful to feel they weren’t as wobbly as she’d feared they’d be. “How long have I been here?”
“A couple of hours,” Miriam said. “You woke up a bit and I helped you walk upstairs. I made sure you were okay and then told Jonathan to let you sleep.”
Miriam set a lamp down. She pulled a small table over beside the bed and placed the tray holding the simple meal on it. As Miriam turned and picked up the light again, the glow cast gentle shadows along her form, highlighting the tight, round curve of her belly, through the thin, soft fabric of her home dress. Miriam followed her gaze, and there was a sweet, almost dreamy quality to her smile. One hand slid protectively over her stomach.
“Yes, Amos and I are having another child this spring,” she said. “He always wanted a large family. Rosie and Mark’s father died when they were very young, and Amos was so happy to become their pa. Then came David and Samuel. Now Gott is blessing us with one more.”
Celeste swallowed hard. This woman was pregnant, had been threatened by a criminal in front of her children and still had the grace and courage to welcome her into their home. Jonathan had been so right when he’d reminded her not to judge someone by appearances.
Amish Hideout (Amish Witness Protection Book 1) Page 11