“No, you don’t have to answer any questions. But we are hoping you will. This is Jessica’s stepmother. She came a long way to meet you and find out what happened to her daughter.”
Hannah gave the girl a pleading look and nodded. “Please. I want to know what happened to my daughter.”
Brittney’s defiant expression changed to one of concern. “What do you mean what happened to her? She came by and we hung out a couple of times. No big deal, right? She told me she was on rum-spring or something which meant that it was okay for her to hang out.”
“Did you see Jessica last Monday?” Elijah said.
Brittney looked down as if recalling a bad memory and nodded gently.
“Please. Please tell us what you know. It’s important.” Hannah came forward, placing her hands on the girl’s forearm. Brittney retracted as if Hannah’s touch were fire.
“What’s wrong with your arms?” Abigail interrupted. “You stand like you have pain. You are hurt, aren’t you? That’s why you’re holding that jacket around your shoulders. Brother, I have seen this before with some of my patients.”
“No, I’m fine.” Brittney backed away. “I just don’t like anyone touching me.”
Elijah shot his sister a look, which Hannah supposed meant Abby should leave that alone. And Hannah, despite her overwhelming desire to put this behind her and go back home to normalcy, could not help her worry and disappointment.
Elijah turned back to Brittney. “So, you girls hung out a lot?”
“Yes, I guess. She was cool.” Brittney stopped and looked at each of them. “So, is she missing or something?”
Hannah wondered that Elijah did not tell her that Jessica was gone.
“Do you know anything about a journal that Jessica had?”
“Oh, man.” Brittney shivered and backed away from them. Her eyes darted between the faces of the adults. “My dad sent you here, didn’t he? He’s so mad about that stupid journal. Look, I don’t know where she took it. Okay? Just go. Get out of here.”
“Your dad didn’t send us here,” Elijah said. “We got your name from some of Jessica’s friends in Willow Trace and we’re here to find out what you and she did last Monday night. Where did you go? Who did you see and talk to? Can you help us out or not?”
She turned her back to them, holding herself as if she were cold. “I want to talk to Jessica first.”
“I’m sorry, you can’t do that,” Elijah said. Hannah could tell now that the poor girl was starting to cry.
“Yeah, why not?” she asked.
“Because she’s dead,” Elijah said quietly.
Brittney turned back. Her face went pale and her eyes widened. She held a hand to her mouth as if she might get sick. Curses slipped from her lips, then regrets, and a single tear spilled over her cheek. She hurried to the window and looked out. “You should go.”
“Because of your friends downstairs?” Elijah asked. “Did they hurt Jessica? Did they hurt you?”
“You’d better go,” Brittney said. “For all our sakes, just go.” She started shooing them toward the front door.
“You won’t tell us what happened?” Abigail said.
“I don’t know what happened. Really. And I’m really sorry about Jessica. I am. But go. Before it’s too late. Go. And don’t come back.” She herded them out into the hallway.
Hannah felt she did not need any encouragement. She was quite ready to leave this place. But Abigail hovered at the doorway and pulled a slip of paper from her apron. She handed the card to Brittney.
“What’s this?”
“My address,” Abigail said. “I’m a nurse. Someone should look at your injuries.”
Brittney took the card, then slammed the door behind her. The sound of the metal chain sliding closed rang through the long hallway.
“I don’t think she had anything to do with Jessica’s death,” Elijah said.
“How can you tell?” Abigail asked.
“Her body language. Her expressions.”
“Then why did she seem so scared? Is she afraid of those boys? Daniel made it sound like they listened to everything she said.”
“She wasn’t so scared until we brought up the journal,” Elijah said.
“And that made her think of her Dat,” Hannah added.
“You would make a good detective, Hannah.” Elijah gave her a nod. “Exactly. She’s afraid of her dad and that journal. Looks more and more like Daniel’s story was the truth. If only she could tell us what’s in that journal, or what happened the last time she saw Jessica, but I don’t think she’ll talk unless we get her out of this place, and that’s not going to happen with the friendly neighborhood watch downstairs.”
Hannah knew Elijah was talking about the repulsive young men that had surrounded them. She slumped and broke into tears. “I can’t believe my girl came to this horrible place. What was she thinking? Why did she tell Daniel that she was doing something good? What good is there to do here?”
Abigail put her arm around Hannah. “There, now. We may never know what she was about. But God does and He is a loving, kind, forgiving God. Do not fret, my sister. Jessica is safe now and in the hands of her Maker. She was a good girl. We will never think of her any other way.”
Hannah wished she could feel so sure. She wished she could push the ugly words of her neighbors out of her head. But she feared when news of Jessica’s visits to the city spread through Willow Trace—and word would spread—the talk about Jessica and her poor parenting skills and weak faith would only increase. Not that she cared so much what others thought. She did not. What bothered her was the doubt in her own heart that she had been a good mother. What bothered her was the inner fear that others spoke the truth. Otherwise, how could she have let this happen?
* * *
Elijah was thankful that Abigail was there to soften this experience for Hannah. It was rough even for him to imagine a sheltered Amish teen in such a setting. And Jessica had definitely been there. Brittney even seemed protective of her. Eli wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. And only God knew what Jessica had been up to in such a place. Elijah had a hard time believing that Jessica’s visit had been of an innocent nature—not in this part of town.
Drugs and prostitution certainly came to mind. Poor Hannah. If she weren’t clearly in imminent danger, he’d have to agree with Thomas that all this searching for answers over Jessica’s death was a bad idea.
He stopped in front of the elevator and pushed the call button.
“I’d prefer the stairs,” Hannah said weakly.
Elijah nodded. Of course, Hannah didn’t want to ride in an elevator. He should have thought of that himself. With a sigh, he made a move toward the stairwell, but at the same time the elevator door opened.
Abigail grabbed Hannah’s hand and pulled her into the lift. “Oh, come on. It’s probably the only day you ever will travel on an elevator. Once more. Trust me, it’s better than walking down so many flights of stairs.”
Elijah entered after them. A sinking feeling in his stomach made him wish they had listened to Hannah and taken the stairs.
“What’s the matter, Eli?” Abigail studied his face.
“Nothing.” He turned and tried to smile. No need to worry the ladies. They were nervous enough after the encounter with the gang and the not-so-wonderful conversation with Jessica’s friend, Miss Brittney Baker. What he wished he had time to do was comb the neighborhood further in order to gather more information about the type of friendship that had existed between the Amish girl and the city one. But he couldn’t do that today. For one, it was already out that he was a cop. More than likely that meant that no one in the neighborhood would talk to him. And more important, he could not imagine exposing poor Hannah to any more of downtown Philadelphia. She looked ready to faint as it w
as.
He tried to give her a reassuring smile as the doors opened behind him to exit the elevator. But instead of Abigail and Hannah smiling back at him, their eyes widened and they backed away from him.
“Watch out!” Abigail squealed.
Dread flowed through Elijah and he anticipated an attack from behind.
Elijah didn’t even get a chance to turn his head. A strong force struck him in the back of the head. His knees gave way and he fell like a bag of rocks to the floor. Everything went black.
THIRTEEN
“Wake up! He’s got Hannah!” Abigail’s words came to him in pieces like a bad phone connection. His head and neck ached. Two hands pulled at his shoulders. Elijah rolled onto his back and forced his eyes open. Abigail stood over him with a frantic expression.
“Get up!” she said.
“What—what happened?” He put a hand to his head and with the other pushed up to a sitting position. It was then he remembered vaguely the scene in the elevator. Someone had been behind him. Someone large and strong. He’d been struck in the back of the head.
“It was terrible, it was. He came so fast. Hit you in the head. Took Hannah. I tried to stop him, brother, but he swatted me away like a fly, he did.” Abigail grabbed hold of his hand and tried her best to help him to his feet.
“What do you mean, he’s got Hannah?” Elijah balanced his weight over his two feet. His head felt like an anvil and throbbed with nearly debilitating pain. He lifted a hand to his aching cranium. Warm blood stuck to his fingers. He’d been struck with something blunt like the back end of a gun. “Who has Hannah?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “The man was tall and thin with reddish-blond hair. I’ve never seen him before. He was so fast, I tell you. Put you down and took Hannah in one motion. He had a gun.”
Reddish-blond hair. Tall. Strong. Eli had seen photos in the file his partner, Tucci, had forwarded him the night before. The description sounded just like Flynn Jackson, Brittney’s stepdad. Jackson must have heard from the front door gang of their arrival. But if they worked for Jackson and also did whatever Jessica and Brittney requested, that painted a strange picture—and not one too favorable for Jessica.
As these thoughts raced through one side of his aching head, the other could think of nothing but Hannah. “Which way did he take her?”
“I do not know. Maybe this way.” Abigail pointed away from the building entrance and toward the back of the first-floor hallway.
The stairwell, maybe? Or he could have taken her out the back. Eli’s heart sank. He had no idea.
“How long was I out?”
“Not long, brother. The elevator doors, they close and then they open again. Two times.”
That was not too long. But, still, they had a head start and he wasn’t even sure which way to begin looking. His chances of finding them by himself were too few.
He limped out of the elevator, pulling his keys and cell phone from his pocket. He dialed Tucci.
“I need backup. Hannah’s been abducted. Possibly by Jackson. He’s armed.”
“Location?”
“The address you gave me yesterday.”
“Roger, that,” Tucci answered. “Be there in ten.”
“Bring a team.”
“Already on it, Miller. And wait for us. No Rambo moves, Amish boy.”
Elijah clicked off and handed his keys to Abigail. “Run to my car. Lock yourself in and stay hidden. If you have to, drive away. I know you remember from your Rumspringa.”
She reached for the keys but hesitated. “You can hardly stand, Elijah. Shouldn’t I stay and—”
“Go,” he ordered her. His voice sounded weak and stressed. No wonder she didn’t want to leave him. “I don’t want to be distracted by worrying about you, too, Abby. Just go. That is the most helpful thing you can do.”
Abigail took the keys and ran from the building. Elijah prayed she would make it to his car safely. What had he done by bringing them there? It had escalated things—that was for sure. Now he only hoped that he could get Hannah back safely and then make this terrible incident work in their favor.
Elijah looked in every direction. Which way would he go with a hostage? Maybe to a place he knew well. Like home. Sure. That was a good place to start. Back at Jackson’s apartment.
Elijah ran toward the door to the stairs, ignoring the shooting pain in his head. Pulling his gun from his jacket, he slipped into the spiraling stairwell. Please, Lord, lead me to them. Keep Hannah calm and safe.
With a quick move, he aimed his Glock upward and stepped into the center of the stairwell, looking both up and then down. Twelve stories of stairs. No basement access. That meant there was another set of stairs. What if he’d picked the wrong ones? How could he know? And not a puff of air stirred. One or two minutes were like an eternity to be behind in a chase. Too much time had passed since Jackson had attacked him and made off with Hannah.
Pushing his discouraging thoughts away again, Elijah hurtled up the stairs, his adrenaline helping to numb the pain in his head. At the top of the fifth flight, he plowed through the stairwell door and raced down the hallway. He knocked hard at the door to 502.
“Flynn Jackson, open up! Philadelphia P.D.”
From inside, Elijah heard a loud click that sounded all too familiar—the lock and load of a shotgun. Please let Hannah be safe, he prayed as he dove out of the way of the door.
He hit the floor to the left side of the door and rolled onto his shoulder. A terrific blast blew through the front door of the apartment. Definitely a shotgun. No wonder his head hurt if he’d been hit in the head with the back end of one of those.
Eli protected his face from the flying debris. Then he sat up and aimed his Glock at the hole in the door, ready for Jackson to peek through the destruction.
But no one moved. From inside sounded Jackson’s low grumbles, a woman’s cries and furniture scooting across or toppling to the floor.
“Hannah?” Elijah hurried to get up and pressed his back to the wall next to the blown-out front door.
“Elijah!” Hannah cried from within. Terror sounded in her voice.
He had to save her. But alone? Jackson could blow him away with one step inside the apartment. But to wait five to ten more minutes for his backup? Was he willing to risk that? To wait?
“Send the woman out, or I’m coming in,” he said. He cocked his gun so Jackson would know he was armed. “It’s over, Jackson. I called backup. You got nowhere to go. A SWAT team will be here in no time.”
“How’s your head, Miller?” he yelled back with a laugh. “Seems like I’m always looking at the back of it, don’t it?”
“And seems like you’re always hiding, Jackson…in the trees, outside the elevator, in a stable, on the side of a road…from the Metro police.” Elijah leaned to the side and looked through the front door. He saw nothing. Jackson and Hannah were nowhere near the entry.
“You don’t know anything about me, Amish boy. But I know everything about you—you and your pretty girlfriend here. I think she likes me. And what do I care if you come in? You are out there all by yourself. Now, if you Plain folk would just give me what I need, I will let her go. But not until I have it in my hands.”
“No one has anything of yours.” Elijah slid into the entrance hall. From there he spotted Jackson in a mirror. He dropped low to stay out of sight. Jackson reloaded the shotgun with one hand. With the other, he forced Hannah against his chest, holding her by a fistful of her luxurious hair. “Let her go.”
“No can do. The little Amish girl said her Mamm knew where to find the journal. And this is her Mamm. You should be thankful I found you before any of the other interested parties. They’d just cut both your throats like they did that troublemaking Jessica.”
Elijah slid farther into the apa
rtment. “Hold it, Jackson. Put the weapon down. I have a clear shot.”
Jackson tossed the gun at him. When it hit the ground, it fired at the wall, blasting shrapnel into the long hallway. Elijah covered his face and had to back away.
Jackson let out a low, husky chuckle. “How’s your shot now, Amish boy?”
“Let her go, Jackson. She doesn’t know where the journal is,” Elijah repeated. “I’ll turn my head and let you run. A favor from one cop to another. Do it now before my team gets here.”
“Thanks, but I really need that journal. Bring it to me and then you can have her back.”
Elijah scooted back into the hallway and across from the mirror. Not only had Jackson moved close to a back door and window leading onto a fire escape, but he had another gun in his hand. This one a small pistol aimed right at Hannah’s head. Even from that distance, he could see the huge gold ring on his third finger, sporting the symbol of Dutch Confidential. No mistaking, this was the tall, fair-skinned man from his cousin’s farm, also Brittney’s stepfather.
Hannah had her eyes closed tight with tears on her cheeks.
Where was his team? Where was his backup? Elijah had to rush forward and save Hannah. He had to because if he lost Hannah, he’d lose everything.
* * *
Protect Elijah, Lord. Protect me. Deliver us from this place. Hannah kept her eyes closed and tried to be absent from the body and present with the Lord.
“Let her go.” Elijah’s voice sounded in the foyer.
Thank You, Lord. Thank You for sparing him. God had sent Elijah to help her. Just hearing his voice made her feel better. She hadn’t been able to see him yet, but she could hear him, first through the door, and then from inside the apartment. The man holding her had shot his horrible weapon twice. Each time Hannah feared he’d harmed or killed Elijah. But then she’d hear his voice again, as strong as ever.
The horrible man dragged her by the hair. Her neck felt as if it might snap from her head. Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the barrel of his gun pointed into her temple.
Plain Secrets Page 12