Plain Secrets

by Kit Wilkinson

  Thomas put a finger to her mouth to stop her speech. “You will tell them nothing, Hannah. You know it is not our way to search for answers. It is in God’s hands. Promise me you will say nothing.”

  She promised. He was right, of course—investigating was not what the Amish did. But she couldn’t help wishing, as impossible as it seemed, that someone would come and help her find the truth.

  Footsteps sounded on the front porch and she stiffened, turning her face toward the door. Elijah’s solid frame blocked the sun from the room, and his dark shadow covered her. Both startled and relieved, Hannah placed a hand over her mouth and released a tight breath.

  “I’m sorry. That took longer than I expected. I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you okay?” He entered the house slowly.

  “I am okay.” She nodded. “Did you see anyone?”

  “Yes. But not the shooter. I saw a child. And according to him, the man with the Pistole drove away in a big black car.”

  A black car? Like the one at the barn when she’d found Jessica? She swallowed hard. “A child?”

  He nodded. “Nicholas Miller. My own cousin, I believe.”

  “He is. Son of your cousin John. He comes to see the young horses from time to time. Loves them, he does. He wasn’t hurt, was he?”

  “No. He’s fine. Went home down the path. I watched him through the forest.” He walked closer. His eyes narrowed on her. “Do you know something about a black car?”

  “How would I know about a black car?” She tried to keep her voice steady, but Eli’s penetrating eyes kept her on edge. “I pay no attention to such things.”

  Closing in the space remaining between them, he offered a hand to help her up. “You sure you’re okay, Hannah?”

  “Ach. It’s not every day people run around Willow Trace with guns and bullets.” She stood without his help, took a step back and tried to face him. But the intensity in his eyes made her more nervous than she already felt.

  He walked back to the front door and checked that it was secure. She hoped that he had put away his gun. He must remember that guns were verboten. Although there was something—a dark object—in his hands. As he moved back to the kitchen, she saw that it was a black broad-rimmed hat like the one Amish men wore when they weren’t working in the sun. She wanted to ask him where he’d gotten it, but there was a more pressing question at hand. “Do you intend to stay awhile?”

  Eli frowned taking a look down at the hat, which he then tossed onto the tabletop. “No, I don’t—just long enough to figure out what’s going on. According to my little cousin, this hat belongs to our shooter.”

  “Sure.” She lifted a brow and glared at him. “An Amish man with a gun. Shooting at my house. Maybe you’ve forgotten but we don’t have or use guns.”

  He gave her a dissatisfied look. “Any joker off the street can buy one of these hats in a tourist shop or online.”

  Right. Hannah dropped her head.

  “So, let’s get started, shall we? Who is shooting at you and why?”

  Eli didn’t sound angry, but in his eyes, she could see how uncomfortable he was to be there, talking to her again. She told herself that that was why he was being so abrupt, so different from the boy she remembered. She also told herself—and tried to believe—that his detached tone didn’t hurt.

  “I have no idea.” And that was the truth. “In fact, maybe that someone was shooting at you? Your life involves guns much more often than mine, does it not? Or maybe it was a hunter with a bad aim?”

  He tilted his head to the other side. “Except that it’s not hunting season. You said yourself no one around here owns a gun. And for the other possibility, well…if someone wanted to shoot at me they would have better opportunities than driving out to Lancaster County and aiming through the woods.”

  She let out a nervous laugh. “Then it must be a mistake. Who would shoot at me?”

  “A mistake?” His face was grim as he pulled his pistol from under his jacket, did something with it that made some clicking sounds, then returned it to his side. He looked up at her again and clenched his jaw. “Two shots within inches of each other, that’s no mistake.”

  Hannah turned away and continued to stall the conversation. “Your weapon should be outside.”

  “Someone just shot at you. The gun stays here with me where I can use it.”

  “Then maybe you should go.” She lifted her head high as if to challenge him.

  “Gladly, just as soon as you tell me what’s going on around here.”

  “I do not know what you mean.”

  “I’m talking about your stepdaughter’s death and someone shooting at you.” He folded his hands over his chest. “I’m here to investigate what happened to Jessica.”

  His words sent a quiver over her lips, but she fought through it. She would not cry in front of Elijah Miller. “Again, you—you must be mistaken. There was not to be an investigation. There was…nothing to investigate.”

  Elijah tossed a photo on the table next to the black hat. “Her neck was cut. She’s bruised all over. Four days later someone is shooting at you and you say there is nothing to investigate?”

  “How did you get that?” She glanced at the photo, immediately recognizing the wound to her dear girl’s neck. Grabbing at her stomach, she turned away. She must be strong. There was no need to involve Elijah in this.

  “Chief McClendon of the Lancaster police.” Eli removed the photo from the table and put it away in his jacket pocket. “He asked me to come here and see what I could find out.”

  “And what do you find so far?”

  “I think there is something to investigate. I think you should talk to me. This is no game, Hannah. You need to protect yourself. Someone is threatening you and your family. You cannot sit and be silent.”

  “I know you want to help. And it’s very kind of you.” She forced a smile. “But it’s not our way. We will accept what has happened.”

  “It’s not very kind of me. I don’t want to be here one bit. But it’s my job and I take that pretty seriously. Now please stop avoiding my questions and tell me how and when all this started.”

  She glanced at him and saw the frustration but also sorrow in his eyes. Like so many years ago when she told him she’d decided to marry Peter. Then, too, she had not told him the entire truth. Here she was again, keeping secrets. But she had promised and she must keep her word.

  She fetched a broom and dustpan from the cupboard, and with short, quick strokes, she began to sweep the broken glass that covered the floor. “Even if there was more to the story, it does not change the fact that Jessica is gone. So what is there to investigate?”

  “Perhaps something about this black car that you know about but don’t know about?”

  She continued to sweep, not looking his way. He watched her for a few moments, then moved next to her and gently took the broom and dustpan from her hand.

  She still refused to look up as she said, “We are all fine. Really.”

  “Really? Someone just shot at your house. That doesn’t seem so ‘fine’ to me. I haven’t forgotten the way things work around here. I understand that you want to let go and accept what has happened. I’m not trying to stop that—in fact, you may be able to let go more easily if you know what happened. Don’t you even care about who killed your stepdaughter?”

  “Of course I care. I miss her every minute. She was everything to me.” Hannah began to tremble again, but she would not give in to her emotions. She would not show such weakness of faith. “But knowledge does not bring peace and understanding. That comes only from God.”

  The back of his hand caressed her cheek. The warmth was comforting, and for a strange, fleeting second, she longed to fall into his arms and weep. Instead she turned away.

  He stepped back. “I wish this wasn’t
why I was here. I’m so sorry. I know you raised Jessica as your own child. I can’t imagine what you are feeling and after what happened to Peter…”

  She looked up and he must have been able to read the surprise in her face.

  “Abigail told me. As a midwife, she has a cell phone in order for her patients to contact her when they go into labor. We talk occasionally. She told me about Peter.” He pressed his lips together. “He was a good man, Hannah. If he hadn’t been, I… Well, that was a long time ago. I didn’t come here to rake up the past. You must want to know what happened Jessica. So please, come sit with me. Talk to me. Tell me about her. She must have been a wonderful good girl with you as her Mamm.”

  With all of the charisma and ease he’d possessed as a young man, Eli put the broom and dustpan aside and led her back to the kitchen table. But she did not take a seat.

  “Perhaps we should go to the porch?” she suggested.

  “I don’t think the porch is a good place for you today.” He pulled out a chair for her. After she sat, he removed his coat and hung it over the back of one of the other kitchen chairs and sat opposite her. His gun was still in the holster at his side.

  “Have you forgotten everything, Elijah Miller? We don’t have guns in our houses.”

  “Actually, it’s you who has forgotten that someone shot at you only fifteen minutes ago.” He smiled and patted the gun under his arm. “It’s staying right where it is.”

  “Nana Ruth will be horror-struck.”

  “Nana Ruth will never know.” Eli’s ridiculous expression nearly caused her to giggle. She lifted a hand to her mouth to cover her slight smile.

  “Please, don’t cover up such a beautiful face,” he said. “It is the one perk of the assignment.”

  Perk? She could feel the warmth grow in her cheeks. “You speak with strange words, Elijah Miller.”

  “I’ve been gone a long time.”

  His lips curved with the hint of a smile. How handsome his face was to behold. She remembered how the sight of him had always stolen a little of her breath. She feared she would reveal too much if she said a single word. It was best to do as she had promised—to keep silent. This would all pass, even if there was a part of her that wanted to know the truth.

  “You won’t talk to me, then?” He rose from the table.

  “I cannot.”

  “No. You choose not to talk. It isn’t the same, Hannah.” He lifted a small black mobile phone from his pocket. “I’m going to call the Lancaster police and report the shooting. They’ll have to come out and file a report.”

  “No. Please. You’re the police. Isn’t that enough?”

  “You can’t have it both ways. Either you talk to me and tell me the truth or I call Chief McClendon.” He held his little phone in the air, waiting for her decision.

  Hannah dropped her head between her hands. She did not want to see Chief McClendon again. But to speak the truth to Elijah…that might be worse.

  THREE

  Eli walked onto the porch, frustrated and defeated—not so different than he had all those years ago when Hannah had refused him without so much as an explanation. Being back in Willow Trace was harder than he’d anticipated. He hadn’t counted on all those old emotions resurfacing the second he laid eyes on her. Yet he knew he needed to be there no matter what he’d said to Hannah or how badly he’d like to go back to the city.

  Hannah needed protection. Maybe the Amish had survived centuries with very little police or other government interference, but the governor had called him there. Clearly this situation was even more dangerous than Eli had suspected. Anyway, Elijah didn’t believe in coincidence. He’d prayed for confirmation that his presence was needed there, and God had answered that in a big way. Jessica’s death was no accident—even if Hannah wouldn’t talk, he could tell that she didn’t believe that. Nor was the shooting at her house a mere coincidence.

  The sad truth, though, was that if he couldn’t convince Hannah to talk to him, then there was no chance anyone else would. She had the most to gain by learning the truth, and there she was ordering him away—Hannah whom at one time he’d been so close to and shared all his dreams with. She saw him as an outsider now. It shouldn’t upset him. He shouldn’t take it so personally. He was just there to do a job. Right?

  He watched through the window as back inside the house, Hannah went back to her broom and dustpan, cleaning the broken window up from the floors. What was she hiding? He had a wild impulse to hold her gently until she cried and told him all her secrets, to make her see that he was still the same person he’d always been.

  Focus on the case, Miller. Do your job and get out of Willow Trace. Hannah had never been for him. How could he even think such a thing after the way she’d broken his heart and never looked back? His grip on the phone tightened. He turned his back to Hannah and dialed the private number given to him by Captain O’Dell.

  “McClendon.”

  “Hello, sir. This is Detective Miller in Willow Trace, as per your request. Within five minutes of my arrival, there was a shooting incident—someone firing from the woods toward the Nolts’ home. No one is injured, but I thought—”

  “I’ll be right out.” The line disconnected.

  Not much of a conversation. Eli put the phone away in his pocket. Then again the whole situation was strange—so much secrecy? No media coverage? The governor involved? He hoped to have a nice chat with McClendon when he got there.

  Maybe there was a political connection. But to the Amish? That was a stretch. Who could find a group of people more unconnected to the political world? They didn’t even vote. A young widow and her teenaged daughter were not likely to be involved in anything that would snag the governor’s attention.

  Soft footfalls behind him made him turn. Hannah had joined him on the porch with a tall glass of lemonade. “Drink.”

  “Denki.” He took the glass. They both smiled at his use of Pennsylvania Dutch language. He laughed. “I haven’t said that in years and already twice today.”

  Her cheeks became a lovely color of pink. Her green eyes shone brighter. For a second, Eli felt like a sixteen-year-old boy again—that very same boy who would have leapt ten feet into the air after feeling the tingle of Hannah’s fingers brush against his own as she passed him a glass of lemonade.

  Tender emotions rushed through him. How he’d loved her all those years ago. Every woman since, he’d compared to her beauty and her kindness and her soul. None had been able to match up.

  Get a grip, Miller.

  He stepped back, trying to smile nonchalantly. Good grief. He was there to investigate, not to rekindle an old flame, especially an old flame with the woman who had dumped him. Once in a lifetime was enough for that.

  Eli drank down the crisp, sweet mixture and returned the empty glass to her. Keep your mind on the investigation. “McClendon is on his way.”

  She frowned, clearly displeased with him, and his heart sank all over again. “You have changed, Elijah Miller. I thought you would understand and remember our ways. I thought you would respect them.”

  “I do respect our ways.” He paused, a bit surprised at his choice of words. “But when the outside world comes to you, you have to respect it, too. You don’t have to be in it, but you have to let someone help you protect yourself from this danger. Hannah, remember when I was six and my Dat took me into the city for the first time? I was abducted the second I stepped off the train.”

  “Jah. I remember that story. God brought you home safe to us again.”

  “Yes, but with the help of a police officer. Let’s face it. If that cop hadn’t fired his gun and shot the man holding me, then I would have been the one who’d died that day. Not the criminal. Someone wants to hurt you, Hannah, you and your family. They’ve already succeeded once. Please, let me help keep you safe,” he pl
eaded. “Tell me what you know instead of cleverly avoiding every one of my questions.”

  She shot him a furtive glance as if she considered his words. Then she moved away from him. “It is not our way. As you must already know, it was decided that Jessica had a terrible accident.”

  “A terrible accident?” He shook his head in disbelief. “If one of those bullets had hit us earlier today, would that have been an accident, too?”

  Hannah kept her eyes low, avoiding his face. “I don’t know why anyone would be shooting at the house. But, in any case, the Nolts do not want the police involved. Thomas said so himself. You know how it is.”

  “I remember, Hannah.” He remembered more than he liked. “And sometimes that is best—to move on. But if you are now in danger, then it’s time to be proactive. You don’t want to give the shooter a second chance.”

  She backed away.

  “Don’t you even want to know what happened to your daughter?” He reached for the crook of her arm. “Forget the Ordnung talk for one second and be straight with me.”

  She yanked her arm away.

  Good. He was getting to her, even if he was pushing her in an uncomfortable way. She had to see that she needed to both accept God’s will here and protect herself. And for that, he would push as hard as needed.

  “You do, don’t you?” he continued. “You do want to know what happened. The report said that you found her. Hannah, is that true? You found her in the barn at milking time? I saw the pictures. Tell me what happened that morning.”

  Hannah kept her eyes to the floor. Her jaw clenched.

  “I can see you want to tell me something. Why don’t you just say it?”

  “I can’t. I’m sorry, Eli. You should go home and leave us be.”

  A different question—what if he tried a different question? “Not until you talk to me. Where was Jessica before she died? Had she gone into the city? You know something, Hannah. I can see it in your face.”

  “You’re wasting your time, Elijah. Jessica is gone and there’s nothing to be done about it. Go back and tell your people that we do things differently here.”