Plain Sanctuary

by Alison Stone

  Fiona reached into her pocket and pulled out the keys and opened the trunk.

  A weight pressed down on Heather’s chest and she could already feel the suffocating heat and closeness of the trunk. “Please, please, please, don’t do this.” She made eye contact ever so briefly with a terrified Ruthie.

  “Get in the trunk or I’ll kill you and your very helpful friend.” Fiona shrugged, as if taunting her. “Ruthie gets to ride up front and give me directions to her mom’s house.”

  Ruthie looked like she was about to pass out.

  Realizing she had no option, Heather lifted a shaky leg and stepped into the trunk. Just as she was debating how she could gracefully climb into the space to become Fiona’s hostage, her kidnapper planted both hands on Heather’s back and shoved her in. She landed heavily on a partially sunken spare tire, some half-empty water bottles and a pair of tennis shoes.

  Before she had a chance to make one last plea, Fiona slammed the trunk shut, leaving her to suck in stale carpet fumes.

  Heather could hear muffled voices as Fiona undoubtedly threatened Ruthie at gunpoint to comply. Car doors slammed. The engine started. Desperation and exhaust fumes made Heather dizzy, yet she pushed with all her might on the trunk lid. It didn’t budge. Heather didn’t know a lot about cars, but she suspected this old beater was manufactured before safety experts put releases inside the trunk.

  Panic made it difficult to think. Breathe. In through the nose, hold for three, out through the mouth.

  Dear Lord, help me. Help me and Ruthie.

  * * *

  The cell phone sitting on the corner of Zach’s desk vibrated. He considered letting it go to voice mail as he tried to catch up on a mountain of work, but something made him pick it up.

  “Marshal Walker?” came the breathless voice over the phone line. “This is Sloppy Sam.”

  Zach pushed back in his chair and it bounced off the wall as he stood. Dread coursed through him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Are you still in Quail Hollow?”

  “No, I’m back at my office in Buffalo. What’s going on?”

  “I showed up at the bed-and-breakfast to tie up a few loose ends and the back door was open and a kitchen chair was knocked over. Miss Miller’s trunk was open with groceries inside. Seemed like someone left in a hurry. I wanted to make sure Miss Miller was okay. I thought if you were still in town, maybe she was with you.”

  “No, she’s not.” Heart beating wildly in his chest, he swallowed hard. “I need you to hang up and call the sheriff immediately. Tell him what you just told me.”

  “Yah, I will.” Sloppy Sam ended the call.

  Zach stared at his phone as panic crashed into him. He drew in a deep breath, knowing he had to keep calm. He dialed Heather’s number and waited. Her cheerful voice sounded on the voice mail. He waited and left a message. “I need to make sure you’re okay. Call me as soon as you get this message. Thanks.”

  Zach pushed back his chair and snagged his jacket from the coatrack in the corner of his office. Shoving his arms into his jacket, he ran to the elevator. He found himself praying for Heather’s safety.

  He had to get to Quail Hollow. Make sure she was okay.

  When he got down to the parking lot and into his brand-new truck, he called Deputy Gates to make sure Sam had called it in. At least now Zach knew someone local was looking into it.

  “Call me if you get any leads. I’m leaving from Buffalo for Quail Hollow now. I should be there in an hour.”

  “We’ll find out what’s going on,” the deputy reassured him.

  As Zach tore out of the parking lot, he couldn’t imagine what had happened. He had thought the danger had passed once Fox was found dead.

  He slowed at a red light, then pounded on the steering wheel. “Come on. Come on. Come on.” He glanced both ways, and once it was clear, he blew through the light.

  * * *

  Fiona hadn’t driven far when the car bobbled over an uneven road, making every contact point between Heather’s body and the trunk of the car ache.

  The car came to a stop. Heather strained to listen over her heavy breathing. She knew the trunk wasn’t airtight, but the darkness and the stale smell did nothing to alleviate her fears.

  The engine cut off. A door slammed. Footsteps.

  Please open the trunk. Please open the trunk. Please open the truck.

  Anxiety made her heart race.

  The footsteps grew more distant and Heather nearly cried when she was abandoned in the trunk with something sharp digging into her side.

  Help me, dear Lord. Help me.

  Heather wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she heard voices. One was Fiona’s. Her pulse spiked when she recognized the other: Maryann’s.

  Where was Ruthie?

  “We don’t have many plants left. Our peak season is in the spring. All the mums are picked over,” Maryann said.

  “That’s okay.” Fiona’s voice grew closer. “I had something else in mind.”

  “Oh...” Maryann sounded confused, but not frightened.

  Please leave her out of this. Please, please...

  The sound of metal scraping—a key inserted into the trunk lock—didn’t provide the sweet relief she had hoped for. Instead she feared for what Fiona would do to Maryann once she saw Heather in the trunk. She’d be a witness who needed to be eliminated.

  The crack of light grew larger. The first thing Heather saw was Maryann’s horrified face. The Amish woman covered her mouth with her hands. “Heather...”

  Ruthie stood nearby. Terror making her mute.

  “Ah, yes, sweet Heather. Not exactly what you were expecting.” Fiona was talking to Maryann, but she had a gun trained on Heather.

  “Oh, my. What’s going on?” Maryann backed up and hit her heel on the door of the greenhouse. She turned to her daughter. “Ruthie, what’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry, Mem” was all she could say.

  Heather blinked against the bright light after being held in the darkness of the trunk. Fiona had pulled the car around to the back of the greenhouse, where it would be hidden from those searching for it from the street. If anyone was searching for it.

  Ruthie stood clasping her hands with silent tears falling down her cheeks.

  “Leave Maryann out of this,” Heather said, fully realizing she wasn’t in a position to make demands.

  Immediately Heather figured she had said the wrong thing. Fiona would do exactly the opposite of what Heather wanted her to do.

  “I need Maryann for my story. You know, the one you promised me about your mother.”

  Maryann’s brow furrowed as she struggled to comprehend the situation.

  “Get out.” Fiona pointed the gun at Heather. “And you two,” she said to Maryann and Ruthie, “don’t go anywhere.”

  Heather braced her hands on the edge of the trunk and dragged herself out. The ground beneath her swayed. Her feet tingled from the awkward position she had been forced to take in the trunk. She blinked, trying to orient herself. Despite the overcast day, going from the black of the trunk to the light of day felt like tiny pinpricks in her eyes.

  “Quit rutsching,” Fiona said when Heather tried to squirm out of reach. “Did I say that right? Quit squirming, right? I figure if I can sprinkle some Pennsylvania Dutch throughout the book it will make it more authentic. I hear Amish books are big sellers. I had done a little research before coming to Quail Hollow, but I never realized it would come in handy so soon.”

  “I can help you with that,” Heather said in a desperate attempt to appeal to this crazed young woman. “I spoke Pennsylvania Dutch for the first six years of my life. You don’t need them.”

  Fiona gave her a strange look. “Get inside. All of you.” Maryann started walking toward the front of the house when Fiona yelled, “No, the back door.”r />
  Maryann led the way, then Ruthie, Heather, followed by a gun-toting Fiona.

  Fiona made them sit down at the kitchen table. “If anyone thinks they’re going to be a hero, I’ll shoot Maryann first.” She frowned, a feigned sympathetic gesture that came off as garish. “You all can’t get away.”

  Fiona reached into the bag strapped over her shoulder and pulled out a yellow legal pad. “I prefer to work on my laptop, but I know electricity can be scarce out here.” Her words held an air of disgust.

  Fiona threw the legal pad on the table. “I wish I had more time to prepare for this interview, but I’m good at working on the fly.” She sounded almost gleeful. “Answer the questions honestly.” She lifted her eyebrows. “And don’t worry. You can help one another if you don’t know the answers.”

  “You can’t expect us to answer questions under duress.” Heather pushed back from the table. “Why don’t you put the gun away and we can chat calmly?”

  Fiona aimed the gun at Heather. “You’re trying to trick me.”

  Heather squared her shoulders. She was tired of dealing with bullies. “You can’t expect us to answer questions while you’re pointing a gun at us.” She stood and kept moving so that Fiona had to turn away from Maryann and Ruthie. Fiona’s rage grew as she tracked a defiant Heather into the front room. Heather had counted on it. She glanced over Fiona’s shoulder at her dear Amish friends. She gave them a subtle nod and mouthed the word run.

  In her attempt to flee, Maryann knocked Heather’s chair over and it bounced off the floor.

  Fiona spun around. Heather grabbed a glass pitcher off a shelf and brought it down over Fiona’s head. The woman crumpled to the floor and her gun clattered across the hardwood.

  Blood pulsing in her ears, Heather stepped over Fiona to grab the gun. At the same time she yelled to Maryann and Ruthie, “Run! Get out!” When Ruthie paused, Heather yelled, “Go, now! Call for help.”

  The Amish woman she had grown to love like a mother moved toward the door, her long skirt fluttering around her legs. Ruthie followed. Heather bent for the gun when Fiona dived at her legs, taking her down. Heather landed on her shoulder with an oomph. Twisting, she stretched for the gun while Fiona clawed at her legs.

  The tips of Heather’s fingers brushed against the cool metal.

  A scream tore from Fiona’s throat as Heather stretched with everything she had to gain control of the gun. If she didn’t get the gun, Fiona would kill her for sure.

  SEVENTEEN

  The closer Zach got to Quail Hollow Bed & Breakfast, the more fried his nerves became. Deputy Gates had promised he’d call once Heather was located. The silence of his cell phone was unnerving.

  He just passed the location where the body had been pulled from the woods behind the Hershbergers’ place. The trees dotting the hillside were in peak fall colors. Evil had touched even this beautiful place.

  Dear Lord, please help me get to Heather in time.

  He didn’t know what had happened to Heather, but every ounce of his being knew it was bad.

  An image of his sweet sister came to mind.

  Let me be there for Heather. Please. I can’t let her down, too.

  The cell phone on the seat next to him rang, startling him. He had waited the entire drive for it to ring, and now that it had, he was afraid to answer. He had dealt with hundreds of life-and-death situations in his job and now he was truly afraid. Afraid that he may have lost Heather forever.

  Drawing in a fortifying breath, he pressed the accept button. “Marshal Walker,” he said into the air with his phone set on hands-free.

  “It’s Deputy Gates...” A determined voice filled the cab of the truck. He bolted upright and his seat belt snapped against his chest.

  “You found Heather.”

  “A call came in from the Hershbergers’ residence, Maryann and Ruthie are hiding in the barn. Someone is holding Miss Miller at gunpoint in the main house,” he said in clipped tones. “We’re headed there now.”

  Zach slammed on the brakes. “I’m a minute away.”

  “Wait for backup,” the deputy said. “We’re en route.”

  “Okay.” Zach ended the call and pressed the accelerator and did a quick U-turn and headed back toward the Hershbergers’ farm. He wasn’t going to wait for anyone. Not if it meant saving Heather’s life.

  Zach pulled over about a hundred feet from the handmade wooden sign by the road that read Greenhouse. Apparently the Amish were on the nose in their advertising. The cornfields from the neighboring property would hide the truck. Provide him with the element of surprise.

  Zach climbed out and closed the door with a quiet click. He pulled his gun out of its holster and ran toward the driveway, his heart in his throat. When he reached the end of the cornfields, he paused and peered up toward the house.

  According to the deputy, Heather was being held captive in the main house. He scanned the windows and didn’t notice any movement. He broke away from his hiding place and sprinted toward the house. He took cover by the side of the building, catching his breath.

  He listened. He could hear rustling from inside, then a crash. Shouting.

  Time was running out to save Heather. Crouching, so as not to be seen from the windows, he moved toward the porch and silently climbed the steps and prayed for backup.

  * * *

  When Heather couldn’t reach the gun, she twisted her body around, despite Fiona clawing at her legs. Heather freed her legs and kicked Fiona as hard as she could. Her shoe made solid contact and a horrifying crack came from Fiona’s jaw as she fell backward and let out a whoosh of air. Heather scrambled and reached for a table to pull herself up.

  “I’m going to kill you,” Fiona screamed.

  The front door burst open and Zach stepped in, training his gun on Fiona. “Stop.”

  Relief washed over Heather. “Zach,” she breathed.

  Before Fiona had a chance to get her legs under her, Zach strode across the room. He shoved his gun back into its holster and quickly put handcuffs on Fiona. “Stay put.”

  Zach turned and reached for Heather’s hand, pulling her toward him. He cupped her cheek with his hand and smoothed his thumb across her skin, leaving a trail of warmth. “Are you hurt?”

  Heather shook her head against his hand. “How did you know I was here?”

  “Let’s just say your friends were worried about you.” He tipped his head.

  Heather narrowed her gaze, confusion making her thinking fuzzy. “Thank God.” She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, my. I have to make sure Maryann and Ruthie are okay.”

  Zach brushed a soft kiss across her forehead and she smiled up at him. “They are. They called the sheriff’s department. Deputy Gates is on his way. He can take care of Fiona.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Fiona tried to get her feet under her, but she couldn’t seem to with her hands handcuffed behind her back.

  Zach grabbed Fiona’s arm and yanked her to her feet.

  Heather shook her head. “She had befriended Brian. She wanted to write his story.” She turned and glared at Fiona.

  Heather took a big step back when Fiona puckered her lips as if to spit on her.

  Heather blinked slowly, trying to tamp down her growing anger. She was done being the victim. She spun around and walked out onto the porch. She’d fill Zach in with all the details soon. But right now, she needed to find her friends. The cool air felt refreshing on her warm cheeks. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement.

  She turned and saw Maryann and Ruthie running toward her, their long dresses flapping around their legs.

  Heather ran down the stairs and pulled Ruthie into an embrace. Then she quickly let her Amish friend go. “Thank you for calling the sheriff.”

  “I’ve never been more grateful we had a phone in the barn for business purposes.” Maryann r
eached out and squeezed Heather’s hand.

  A commotion drew their attention to the front porch. Zach led Fiona out in handcuffs to the newly arrived sheriff’s deputy.

  “Are you okay, Maryann?” Heather asked.

  “Yah. I’m fine.”

  “I’m sorry you got wrapped up in this.”

  “I’ve had enough excitement around here to last me a lifetime, that’s for sure.” Maryann shook her bonneted head. “Everything’s okay now.”

  Zach joined them after Fiona was secured in the back of the patrol car. “Is everyone okay? Does anyone need medical attention?”

  “Neh,” Maryann said. “I’m fine.”

  “Is she going to jail?” Ruthie asked.

  “Yes. Then she’ll await trial,” Zach said.

  “But she won’t get out to hurt us?” Ruthie asked.

  “No, she won’t.”

  “I need to go inside. Sit down.” Maryann walked toward the steps.

  Ruthie turned to follow her in and Heather called out to her, “I’ll be in in a minute to help you clean up.” She didn’t think there was too much damage, but some furniture and items had been upended when she and Fiona had struggled. And the glass from the pitcher would need to be swept up.

  Heather felt slightly awkward as she and Zach stood in silence watching the patrol car pull away. Deputy Gates said Heather could come in later to file a report.

  “Ruthie and Maryann have become like family to you.”

  Heather rubbed her upper arms for warmth. “They have. I’m so grateful they’re okay.” She stared at the empty road. “If only Brian could have put his charms to work for something positive.” Heather sniffed and drew her shoulders up.

  “You’re going to have to relay the entire story of what happened here to the sheriff’s department,” Zach said, placing his hand on the small of her back.

  “I’d be happy to never hear Brian Fox’s name again.”

  “Me, too. He’s caused a lot of havoc in our lives.”

  Heather lifted her hand toward the house. “Well, I better go help them clean up.” With her heart beating in her throat, she took a few steps toward the house, then turned to call Zach’s name when he said hers at the same time.