by Alison Stone
* * *
With a bowl of fruit in her hands, Heather froze on the other side of the entry to the addition, where her guests had gathered. Fiona was holding court, her voice a hushed whisper.
“Brian Fox, the convict running loose in Western New York, had been married to Heather Miller.”
“What?” one of the older gentleman said, either in disbelief or because he was hard of hearing.
“Yeah, she testified against Brian after he killed his second wife.” Fiona relayed the information as if she was doling out juicy gossip on the middle school playground. Anger swirled in Heather’s gut as this stranger violated her privacy. Why hadn’t Fiona mentioned any of this to her last night when they chatted? Instead she acted as if she barely knew about “that escaped convict.”
Heather had been so used to being tucked away, she’d never get comfortable with having the details of her life splayed out for all to see.
“You okay?”
Heather spun around and bumped into Ruthie with the edge of the bowl. “Can you put this on the table? I think they have everything they need for breakfast. I have to do something.”
Ruthie took the bowl with a smile. Heather drew in a deep breath and opened the back door and stepped outside. The cool autumn air hit her fiery cheeks.
Her gaze drifted to the barn, where Zach was already setting up work for the day. She crossed the yard to him, her mood immediately lifting. He looked up from where he had a piece of wood balanced on a table.
“You really don’t have to do all this.” Heather tented a hand over her eyes and looked up at the barn.
“I enjoy it.”
“I appreciate it.” She stared at the small pile of sawdust on the hard-packed earth. “And thanks for being there last night. I don’t know what I would have done. That ring really rattled me. You really think he left it the night he broke into my house?”
“I called in the information to my boss. He’ll see that the proper authorities know of the development. But yes, I don’t think Fox came back to the house. Even if he had survived, it would have been too risky.”
“You don’t know Brian like I do. He’s not rational.”
“Once we find him, you won’t have to worry about him ever again.” His gaze drifted to the back of the house, then to her. “My boss gave me another week.”
“Because of the ring?”
“Yes.”
A puddle of conflicting emotions pooled in her belly. She was relieved Zach was staying, but concerned that his reassurances regarding the ring were merely lip service. But what could he tell her that she hadn’t already considered?
“I’m glad you’re staying,” she finally said. “I’d feel better if we had more answers.”
“Me, too.” He picked up a piece of wood and placed it flat on the workbench. “I figured you’d be occupied for a while with breakfast.”
“Ruthie and I already set up the breakfast buffet. I had to get out for a bit.” She crossed her arms and rocked back on her heels. “Fiona, our young writer, decided it would be fun to tell the other guests that I’m the infamous Brian Fox’s ex-wife.” Another wave of pinpricks washed over her. “As much as I hated hiding from Brian, I enjoyed the anonymity of it. I hate being the subject of gossip. It’s so intrusive. And I can’t imagine it’ll be good for business.”
Zach rested his palms on the plywood and squinted at the house. “Things will quiet down eventually.” He drew in a deep breath. “You’ll never be able to let it go completely, but the people around you will stop talking about it as they move on to the next drama.”
“Mmm...” Heather feared things would never quiet down. That she’d never be able to face the past. All of her past.
She took a step toward the barn and her knees grew weak. “I haven’t been in the barn since I learned that that’s where they found my mother’s body.” A band of dread tightened around her chest and made her dizzy.
She touched the door frame, waiting, for what she wasn’t sure. The scent of damp hay and aging wood reached her nose. A surreal feeling made the old wooden walls heave and sway.
Her father had said her mother had loved her horse and probably would have become a veterinarian if there were such a thing among the Amish. But generally the Amish only went to school through the eighth grade.
A person didn’t need an education to live the Amish way.
Heather stepped into the barn and slowly walked toward the stalls where her mother’s body had been found. She wasn’t sure which one. One of the planks of wood along the back wall had rotted away due to dampness and age.
She turned when she felt Zach’s hand on her shoulder. “I thought I’d feel something more knowing this was where my mother was found.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Heather turned away from the stalls. “The local sheriff was convinced it was a random person traveling through town. My father never wanted to talk about it, but he finally said that any leads never panned out. My dad said I had to forgive the man who killed my mother. That’s the Amish way. My father had given up everything Amish, but he clung to that. Forgiveness. I think it’s what allowed him to keep going.” She dragged a hand through her hair. “I haven’t been able to find forgiveness.”
“You’ve had to deal with more tragedy in your, what—” He lifted his eyebrows.
“Thirty-two years.” She smiled at his roundabout way of asking how old she was, not that it mattered.
“Yes, most people haven’t had to go through what you’ve had to deal with in their entire lifetime.”
“I’m not looking for sympathy. God has blessed me in more ways than I can count.” She turned and stepped outside of the barn, letting the sun warm her goose-pimpled skin.
“How do you do that?”
Heather turned to look at Zach standing next to her. “How do I do what?”
“Have faith despite everything that has happened to you?”
Heather opened her mouth to say something, then thought better of it, considering his sister was dead.
“Tell me, what were you about to say?”
Heather met his gaze squarely. “I was going to say that I’m blessed to still be alive. To see the sunrise. To feel the cool air on my skin. But then I realized how trite that would sound to someone who had lost someone to murder. I imagine your sister also had faith.”
“She did.”
“Yet, despite her faith, evil found her. So I understand why your faith has been shaken.”
A muscle worked in Zach’s jaw. “At her funeral, the pastor said that God gave us free will. And it was free will that allowed the likes of Fox to kill my sister.”
“And despite my mother’s devotion to her faith, she, too, was murdered.” The familiar guilt weighed heavy on her chest. It wasn’t fair to push her faith. Zach had to find his own way through his grief and feelings of guilt. Much as she had struggled. Much as she still struggled.
But wasn’t that part of faith?
* * *
Heather dried the last glass and placed it in the cabinet. The Woodruffs and the Hopkinses were on a buggy tour of Quail Hollow, while Fiona had settled into a rocking chair in the sitting room with her laptop.
“I’ll start making apple pie for dessert. I think I have everything set in the kitchen for now,” Ruthie said, giving Heather a pointed stare.
Heather recognized a dismissal when she heard it, but still she pressed. “What can I do to help?”
“You hired me to take care of the kitchen and meals. Let me do that. I have to earn my keep.”
Heather dried her hands on a dishrag. She didn’t want to offend Ruthie by suggesting she couldn’t manage her job.
“I’ll go...” To do what, she wasn’t exactly sure, until she found herself in the sitting room watching Fiona type away on her laptop. The young woman’s back was to
her. An unexpected whisper of dread made the hairs on the back of her neck prickle to life. She wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because the memory of Fiona eagerly sharing the Quail Hollow gossip unnerved her.
What is she really writing about?
Fiona stopped typing and clasped her hands, but didn’t turn around. “I can’t type when someone’s watching me.”
Heather cringed. She hadn’t meant to appear to be snooping. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She turned to walk away, then stopped and decided to approach Fiona. “Why didn’t you tell me you knew I was Brian Fox’s ex-wife?”
Something flickered in Fiona’s eyes, then she had the good sense to glance down. “You heard me talking.” It wasn’t framed as a question.
“I did.”
“I’m sorry. I should have been more discreet.”
Anger simmered just below the surface. “You shouldn’t have been gossiping.” Heather took another step closer. “What are you working on?” she asked, an edge to her tone.
“I’ve got my first contract to write a romance.” Fiona smiled, a hint of an apology in her eyes. She turned the screen so Heather could read it. The passage read very much like something from a sweet romance novel. Heather’s cheeks grew warm at the unfair accusation that had crossed her mind.
Fiona’s eyes opened wide as she sensed it, too. “You thought maybe I was writing about you.” She gave Heather an exaggerated frown, her eyes magnified behind her thick lenses. “I would never do something like that. I mean, I used to write articles for newspapers, but I’d never do something like that on the sly. That would be unethical.”
Heather drew in a deep breath. “I value my privacy.”
Fiona pushed her glasses up on her nose. “Yes, I understand completely. I just came here to work on my novel. That’s all. It was inconsiderate of me to be all gossipy at breakfast this morning. I guess I enjoyed the attention too much when the other guests started asking questions.”
Heather shrugged. “Well, I guess the cat is already out of the bag. The guests may have questions. I’ll have to come up with some answers.”
Fiona shifted the laptop and frowned. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.” She tapped her chin with her fingers. “I thought you should know I read about your mother’s murder when I was doing research on Quail Hollow after I found this bed-and-breakfast.”
“Oh.” Pinpricks blanketed Heather’s scalp.
“If you’re ever interested, that would make a fantastic true crime story. I’d be honored to write it. I’m sure it would be a bestseller. A murder in Amish country...” A faraway look descended into Fiona’s eyes as the wheels of her mind turned.
Heather rubbed her arm as unease skittered across her flesh. “I like my privacy.” She didn’t care that her words came out clipped. They had already been through this.
“Of course. I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be insensitive.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that and I’d appreciate your continued discretion.” Heather lifted her hand to the laptop, suddenly feeling very disconcerted. “I’ll let you get back to work. On your romance.”
Fiona’s eyebrows flew up. “Do you read them?”
Heather smiled, still having a hard time figuring out this young woman. “Yes. I read across all genres. Haven’t made much time for it lately, but now that the renovations are done, maybe I’ll have more.”
“You should also start one of those lending libraries for guests. The ones where they can take a book, leave a book. You could put shelves right in this room.”
“That’s a great idea.” A few books would add charm to the mostly barren room. But Heather didn’t want to overdecorate, which would be out of character for an Amish home.
Fiona leaned over and pulled a book from her bag resting against the rocker. “I’m almost finished with this one. I’ll leave it here when I’m done. It can be your first lending library book.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Heather slid her fingers in the back pockets of her jeans. “Well, I better get a few things done before our guests return.”
“If it’s okay with you, I’ll take my writing and my dinner up to my room later today.” She lifted her laptop as if to prove a point. “I’m on deadline.”
“Of course, I can bring something up.”
“Oh no, I can come down and grab a plate. I just wanted you to know my plans so it wouldn’t seem rude when I didn’t join the other guests.”
“This is your vacation. Do whatever makes you comfortable.”
“Thank you.” Fiona placed her fingers on the home row of the keyboard, but she didn’t start typing. She turned to look at Heather. “I’m sorry if I caused you any pain by being gossipy. I’m not usually like that.”
Heather tapped the door frame with her open palm. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Can I ask you something, though?” Fiona gave her a blank look.
“Okay.” Heather didn’t want to be rude, but she felt herself bracing for the question.
“Should I be worried that the escaped prisoner is going to come here? I mean, you hear stories all the time about innocent people getting caught up in domestic situations. Wrong place, wrong time sort of thing.”
Heather had to focus on her breathing to control the anxiety that was welling up inside her. “We have reason to believe Brian Fox is dead.”
Fiona’s eyebrows shot up above the frame of her glasses and she had to catch her laptop before it slid off her lap.
“Really? What happened?” She clutched both sides of her laptop and a hint of apprehension flashed in her eyes.
“I can’t really say, but law enforcement believes it’s just a matter of time before they find his body.”
“Oh.” She lowered the lid of her laptop. “How does that make you feel? I mean, you were married to him.”
Heather stared at this woman. Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t entertain such personal questions from a stranger, but this was a paying guest. What did she owe her? “The true Brian Fox is an evil person. He tricked me. And unfortunately, his own free will led him to wherever he is today.”
“Dead?”
She prayed he was dead.
“Yes, he’s most likely dead.”
“Hmm.” Fiona seemed to consider this information. “Well, it seems you’ve found yourself a great guy in Zach. I was chatting with him earlier.”
Heather suddenly felt flushed and she wanted nothing more than to end this discussion. Her guest certainly knew how to interrogate someone. Maybe she had missed her calling as a reporter.
“Yes, he’s very helpful doing projects around the house.” Zach and she had agreed they wouldn’t let any of the guests know he was in law enforcement. They didn’t want to make them feel uncomfortable or worried.
Fiona adjusted the monitor on her laptop, then looked up at Heather. “That’s great. Well, I shouldn’t have pried. I talk too much sometimes.”
Heather smiled tightly. “It’s okay. But I’d rather not discuss the situation anymore, especially not in front of the other guests. Unless they have questions.”
“Of course.”
Heather turned to walk away. “Let either Ruthie or I know if you need anything.”
“I will.” Her fingers started flying across the keyboard before Heather reached the stairs.
Heather retreated upstairs and opened the medicine cabinet. It was empty save for the pain reliever. Zach had taken the ring for safekeeping.
A nervous energy she couldn’t shake had her searching the entire room until she was satisfied that Brian hadn’t left her any other unwanted gifts.
ELEVEN
A few days later, Zach toed his work boots off at the back door of the bed-and-breakfast and slipped inside. He drummed his fingers on his cell phone in his jacket pocket as he searched for Heather. He found her sitting at the
rolltop desk making a few entries in the leather binder. The house had quieted down since the weekend guests had departed and he was grateful his boss had given him permission to stay in Quail Hollow for another week because it seemed like they were just about to get a break.
Heather ran her hand over the page and turned around; a smile lit her warm brown eyes. “The place is booking up. I might be able to make a go of this after all.”
“I had no doubt you would.” He leaned his shoulder against the door frame, hesitant to ruin the mood. But he had to tell her. He cleared his throat. “I received a phone call.”
Heather slowly closed the book and turned to stare at him, taking in shallow breaths. “Tell me.”
“A body’s been found.”
“A body? Brian’s body?”
Zach held up his hand to caution her. “They believe it’s him.”
She threaded her fingers together and placed them in her lap, a show of restraint. Fox had done a number on her and now his delayed capture was tearing her up inside. Perhaps she didn’t want to get her hopes up that this nightmare was officially over, however tragic the end result.
“I don’t understand.” She bit her lower lip. “Did something happen to the body? Why can’t they identify it?”
Zach scrubbed a hand across his face, debating how many grisly details to share. But she deserved the truth. He crossed the room and sat down on the edge of a rocker. “Are you sure you want to hear the specifics?”
She stared at him with a steely expression. “I have to hear.”
Zach nodded slightly, then said, “His face was destroyed. Deputy Gates mentioned that he had multiple wounds, including a gunshot to the face.”
“If you hit him in the head, wouldn’t they have found his body in the water when they searched it?”
“A working theory is that he survived the initial wounds, but then killed himself to hasten the end when he got desperate. He’d been on the run for a long time.”
All the color seemed to drain from her face. “That doesn’t sound like Brian. I think he’d chew off his arm before ending his life. How do they figure it’s him?”