“Well, yes, but only once or twice a year. Not every day. You are full of surprises, Abigail.”
Abby wasn’t sure if he meant it as a compliment or if he found her way of life ludicrous. It was obvious he was rich and was used to a completely different way of life, but yesterday during the entire trauma, she’d thought him a little deeper than this. Perhaps he wasn’t? Perhaps he was Hochmut through and through.
He stopped again at the door.
“Did you forget something?”
“Well, yes, I sort of forgot about being your doctor.” He turned and looked at her head wound. “It’s healing up really nicely but...”
“But what?”
“I have to advise against driving alone the day after you had a concussion.”
Abby smiled. “But I already drove from the hospital to here.”
“I know, but I was following you. I should follow you back to Eli’s. You are staying there tonight, right?”
Abby nodded. “Quit worrying. You can’t miss your appointment. Go on. I’ll be fine. I’m only driving to Eli’s and you know that’s not too far.”
Blake hesitated. “I don’t know, Abby. You have been doing well, but you must be exhausted. I can reschedule my appointment. I’m not even sure if you should be alone. Not after all the things that have been happening.”
“Bye, Blake.” Abby practically pushed him out the door. Maybe it wasn’t so smart to be alone. But she needed it. Her head was spinning, her feelings flying. She had patients to check on. And she had information she wanted to look up. She wanted Blake gone to be able to do it.
* * *
Clouds descended over the Lancaster skies as Blake drove back to the lawyer’s office. Looked as if a big winter storm was blowing in or over. With all that was going on, he’d hardly thought to check the weather. A bad feeling chilled him as he reached the little village of Millersville. He still didn’t feel right about leaving Abby alone. He should have followed her to her brother’s. After all, she’d had a concussion the day before.
Meanwhile, he also kept thinking about what the others suspected—that his arrival in Lancaster had sparked this awful chain of events. He had come to Lancaster to find his birth parents—could his quest be connected to Hancock in some way?
And what about Dr. Granger? Blake hadn’t heard from him in months, not since his parents’ funeral. Dr. Granger had always been such a close friend of his parents’. Almost a part of the family. Blake assumed McClendon’s detectives had made contact with him, but he could, too. He wanted to hear about the transfer and hopefully get some more information on the patient. Blake slid his cell from his pocket. At the next stoplight, he thumbed through his contacts and dialed Dr. Frank Granger.
“Dr. Granger’s office. How may I direct your call?” A polite young voice sounded on the line.
“Hi. This is Blake Jamison. I’m a family friend of Dr. Granger’s. I’d like to speak with him or leave a voice mail if I could.”
There was a long hesitation before the receptionist said, “Dr. Granger is out on vacation this week. I’m taking messages but he will not return any calls until he is back in the States.”
Blake swallowed hard. This was most unexpected. How could Granger have transferred a patient just yesterday if he were on vacation? “When did the doctor leave?”
“Over a week ago.”
“And he returns soon?”
“He’ll be back from St. Thomas midweek.”
“Thank you. I’ll call back.”
Blake threw his phone aside as he turned his car into the same office-building strip he’d visited early that morning. He drove to the center of the parking lot and hit the brakes. There was the dental office that he’d seen on the left and there was the dermatologist’s office to the right. But where Linton’s office had been, there was nothing. The shades that had been in the windows and the sign with Linton’s name—they were all gone. The office was empty, as if nothing had ever been there.
Blake parked his Land Rover in an empty space right in front. He hopped out of his car and raced up to the front door of the office. As he had expected, the rooms inside were empty. There was no reception desk. No large wing-backed chairs to wait in. Even the wall paintings were gone. There was nothing left but the carpet. So, how had Mr. Pooler just been on the phone with Linton not even an hour ago? It would have taken half the day to move out all of the fancy furnishings from inside the plush office—and it would have taken planning in advance to hire the movers. Yet there had been no signs of a planned move when he’d arrived earlier. It was as if the whole thing had been staged. But Linton couldn’t have possibly known he was coming that morning. Only Pooler had known that....
Blake turned around, facing the parking lot. He blew out a long sigh of serious frustration. Maybe Abigail was right. Maybe searching for his birth parents was a bad idea. He’d certainly thought it would be a much easier endeavor than it had turned out to be thus far.
What should I do, Lord?
He raised his question hesitantly to the sky. Prayer had become awkward. How had that happened? A flake of snow flittered down from the sky as Blake looked out over the empty lot.
Zing. Something hot and fast and small grazed by his forehead. A second later the glass doors behind him shattered into a million bits that scattered over the sidewalk. Blake dropped to the ground, pressing his back flat against the grill of his car. That had been a bullet. Someone was shooting at him.
EIGHT
Whew. Abby closed the door behind Blake. She was glad for a moment to catch her breath and think on her own. She had told Hannah she’d be back at five o’clock. And she did need to return before Eli started to worry. She didn’t want him calling Chief McClendon again. Or worse, her father.
She checked the time—she had just enough to feed the animals and call a few patients. First, Mrs. Brenneman. Abby dialed the number of the prepaid cell phone that she’d given to them. She often did that for her patients who owned oil-powered generators that could keep the phones charged when it was close to their due date. That way it would be easy for them to get in touch with her when it was time.
“Hello, Anna? This is Abigail Miller. I’m sorry I didn’t get a chance to visit you yesterday.”
“Ja.” Anna’s voice sounded over the line. “We have heard that you had an accident. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. The real question is, how are you feeling?”
“I’m tired. A little pain in my side,” she said. “It won’t be long now.”
“It’s still a little early, Anna. How much work are you doing?”
“Not so much.”
“None. No more work. You need at least one more week. Keep your phone close by at all times and call me right away if you have more pain.”
“Ja, okay.”
Abby was worried about Anna. She wasn’t sure if the woman realized the dangers to the baby if he or she came too early. But it was hard to get an Amish woman to leave the chores for others to handle.
Next, she called Becka Esche. Her baby was also due anytime now, and it had been a rough pregnancy even though she was young and it was her second. Abby had insisted a few times that Becka see a doctor. But sometimes there was only so much Abby could convince her patients to do. Becka had delivered her first child in the hospital with an Englisch doctor. She’d lost the baby just hours after delivery, while she herself had developed a very dangerous condition called placenta accreta that nearly killed her. Now she and her husband, Jonas, wanted nothing to do with the hospital or any Englisch doctors. Abby could hardly blame them.
“Becka? This is Abigail. How are you feeling?”
“Ready to have this baby,” she said. “I think it’s almost time.”
“Yes, it will be soon. Get lots of rest. Keep your phone close by.”
Abby
had other patients, of course. But none she needed to contact at the moment. That done, she fed her animals, collected her things and headed to Eli’s. It was getting late, and as nice as it was to pretend everything was fine, she knew she needed to get back to the cover of her brother’s home.
As she drove along the single-lane highway, Abby realized how tired she was. Blake had been right about her exhaustion. Tonight she would fix the chamomile tea that had a natural sleep aid in it. Then she would sleep like a baby. For now, she concentrated on the road. Thankfully, it was not a long drive, even if it was down a narrow, hilly, country highway.
After a few miles, a dark sedan with very bright headlights pulled up close to the back of her car. She checked her speed. It was fine. Some people were just so impatient. But there was nowhere to pass on this narrow road and no shoulder. The hurried driver behind her would just have to wait until she turned off at Eli’s place. It wasn’t far now.
But the car stuck to her like glue. The driver flashed his lights even brighter and swerved his car erratically from one side of the lane to the other. Abby accelerated to put some distance between them. She hated to go over the speed limit but she feared that the driver behind her might be intoxicated and dangerous.
The sedan kept right with her. Maybe he was even closer. Abby’s heart began to pound. She wanted to pull off somewhere and let him pass. But there was nowhere to turn until she came to Eli’s road. Thankfully, she was almost there. If only she had hands-free calling, she could notify the police about the reckless driving. But she didn’t dare take her hands from the steering wheel or her eyes from the road. It was tough enough just concentrating on keeping ahead of the crazy driver behind her.
Something wet touched her windshield. Then another something. Abby’s eyes darted up to the sky. It was snowing. Great. She tapped her brakes and turned on the wipers. The sedan seemed to have fallen back a bit.
Thank goodness! Abby let out a sigh of relief.
Finally, she was near the turnoff for Eli’s place. The snow was really falling now. She slowed again and suddenly there was the black sedan. It had raced up behind her, accelerating as it approached. It was so close.
Then its front bumper struck the back of Abby’s car.
The force of it thrust her head into the steering wheel. The pain under normal circumstances would have been excruciating, but for Abby, with her head still tender from her attack, the agony was nearly crippling. A warm trickle of blood dribbled down her cheek, distracting her as she tried to concentrate on the road.
She held her throbbing head up and gripped the steering wheel with all her might. The road before her seemed to split in two. Abby blinked hard and tried to force her eyes to focus. But it was no use. Panic raced through her veins. In her blurry peripheral vision, the dark sedan appeared to be beside her. But Abby did not trust her double vision and she dared not take her eyes from the road in front of her to look over and check.
If she could just make it another half mile, she would be at the turnoff for Eli’s farm. But as the sound of metal on metal rang in her ears, she knew she wasn’t going to make it to her brother’s.
Abby fought the force of the sedan against her car as best she could, keeping her steering wheel to the left as the other car pushed her to the right. Her little Malibu was no match for the big sedan and it was only seconds before her tires were sliding into the deep ditch beside the road.
No. She definitely wasn’t going to make it to Eli’s.
* * *
Blake’s instinct was to get up and run after whoever had fired that shot, but common sense told him he’d live longer if he stayed put. He looked both ways up and down the sidewalk, his back still pressed against the front of his car. His mind felt as scattered as the shards of glass spread around him. Why was someone shooting at him? Everyone had thought Abby was the target....
Abby! He’d left her alone. How stupid. He needed to get back to her as soon as possible. If someone was shooting at him, then who knew what was happening to her? His heart pounded. The shooter was behind him. Behind his car. But how far away? Blake didn’t know but he would just have to risk exposing himself. He had to get into his car and head back to Abby’s.
Blake stayed low and slipped back into the driver’s side of his car. Starting up the car in a hurry, he floored the accelerator and raced out of the parking lot. He didn’t look left or right. If the shooter was nearby, taking aim again, then so be it. He didn’t care. He just had to get to Abby. He prayed he hadn’t made a fatal mistake in leaving her alone.
The light snow seemed to have cleared the other drivers off the roads. He made good time back to her small cottage-clinic. But her car was already gone. Perhaps that was a good sign. He hoped that meant she was already safe at her brother’s. Like she’d said earlier, it wasn’t far. But he had to know for certain.
Blake pulled out his cell phone and dialed Abigail’s number, which he’d programmed in earlier that morning. There was no answer. Perhaps she had the ringer off or just didn’t feel like talking to him? Blake’s gut told him that was not the case. Blake felt certain something was wrong. Or at least, he felt certain that he had to make sure she was all right. He would have to drive to Eli’s and find out.
Blake continued on toward Eli’s but much more slowly—the snow was falling harder here. He passed a car that had slipped from the increasingly icy road. Thankfully, another Good Samaritan had stopped to help the stranded driver. The closer he got to Eli’s, the heavier the snow seemed to be.
Just two more curves down the winding single-lane highway, past the Youngers’ bed-and-breakfast and on to Eli’s farm. When he knew he was close to the hidden turnoff, Blake scouted for the difficult-to-find gravel lane. At last he saw the drive and the mailbox that read E. Miller just ahead to the left of the road. He was moving at a snail’s pace now and feeling his heart sink to his stomach as he realized that in the ditch across the street from Eli’s mailbox was another stranded car.
It looked abandoned. Maybe the driver had already been picked up. Blake slowed his SUV, looking closely at the vehicle in the ditch. The car was a white Chevy Malibu.
It was Abby’s car and she was still inside.
Oh, Lord, please, please let her be alive....
NINE
What had he done by leaving her alone?
It was immediately obvious that she had been attacked. The back bumper was dented and scratched, as was the driver’s-side door. This was no accident— another vehicle had pushed her off the road. And the car hadn’t been abandoned, either. Abby was still inside. Blake could just see the top of her head. She wasn’t moving. A rush of frantic alarm hit him hard in the gut.
He threw his car into Park and raced across the street to the ditch. Based on the amount of snow on the car, she had not been there long. The engine was still hot and had melted everything touching the hood. Blake swiped the thin layer of flakes from the window so that he had a better view inside. Abby’s body lay back against her seat. Her head was slumped forward in an awkward position. But he could see a mark across her forehead from the steering wheel. There was blood and dust from the air bag on her skin. “Abby!” He pulled at the door handle but it wouldn’t open. “Abby! Wake up! Come on!”
Was she unconscious or was she...? Fear seized his body and mind. For a quick instant, he himself felt paralyzed. Then he rapped on the glass. Abby did not move. Blake knocked harder, then pounded on the glass with his fist. Abby did not respond.
Be alive! Please, God, let her be alive.
Blake searched the ditch. Just under and behind the car, he found a large stone. He stepped away from the backseat window and threw the stone like a cannon through the glass.
It cracked into a million pieces but did not shatter. Blake removed his jacket and covered his right hand. He picked up the stone again and pushed it through the weakest po
int in the break. Shards of glass scattered over the backseat. He reached inside, keeping the jacket around his arm to protect himself as he leaned forward and unlocked the driver’s door.
Throwing the jacket aside, he opened Abby’s door. His fingers went straight to the tender spot just under the neck as he felt for her pulse. Her body was warm, and with great relief, he detected the lightest rhythm of blood flow. He watched the rise and fall of her chest. She was alive.
Thank You, God...
* * *
Abby floated in a delightful dream. Cold air blew on her cheeks. Her hair was loose and flowing. Tiny icy dewdrops kissed her face and neck. It felt lovely. She drifted, flew, glided over a field of white tulips. The tall, handsome doctor stood at the edge of the flowers, watching her. He smiled and she laughed as a blast of cold air blew her nearer to him. His arms reached out and held her. They were warm and strong as he whispered to her. But she could not understand his words and then he was gone.
Darkness overcame her and she felt a hand on her arm. She turned back to see that a man in scrubs held her. He was tall and round and breathed heavily, like an old man. His eyes were gray and glassy. He pulled down his surgical mask and whispered her name as if he knew her well. Her arm ached. He pulled her back, then thrust her forward. She hit something hard and sharp. Her whole head filled with pain—incredible pain. If she could just open her eyes again... But she could not.
The dream faded as the throbbing in her head increased. She was sleepy and she longed to hear Blake’s voice again.
* * *
Blake placed Abby gently into the backseat of his car. He had not called 9-1-1. Abby had responded to his touch with just enough movement to give him hope that her injuries didn’t require immediate paramedic care. She had no broken bones. He’d checked for that. So there really wasn’t much point in an emergency crew driving her on icy roads. Anyway, he was a doctor—and a pretty good one. He would take care of her.
He drove slowly up the winding gravel drive, spotting Eli near the front of the stables. Hearing the car, Eli waved to him, the friendly greeting adding to the guilt Blake felt at having allowed Abby to drive alone. Eli would blame him, too. And Abby, too, once she woke up.
Lancaster County Target Page 8