Lancaster County Target

by Kit Wilkinson

  What? Blake was engaged? He might have mentioned that. No wonder he took the call in the other room. Abby quickly sloughed away her sappy sentiments when looking at the other articles. She had no right to think such things about another woman’s fiancé. Now she only wondered what else Blake Jamison was hiding.

  With a grunt, she aimed her finger down at the mouse, ready to close the search.

  But she didn’t. There was something that kept catching her eye. And somehow it seemed as if it might be important. Almost every single image of Blake had the same owner imprint across it—Daveux.

  She wasn’t sure if that meant Daveux owned the photo or took the photo or what. Sheltered in her Willow Trace upbringing, Abby knew next to nothing about the photojournalism business. But the consistency there sparked her interest. She enlarged one of the pictures so that she could read the whole name glossed over the image. Phillipe Daveux.

  There was a link to his website. She clicked it.

  Lots and lots of celebrity shots. Pages of fabulous, dazzling photos. Abby recognized some of the faces. Others were unfamiliar to her. Blake had his very own section of images by Daveux. Obviously, this photographer knew a lot about Blake and his family. Under many of the photos were links to articles that Daveux had written. Most of the articles had been published in a magazine called New York Ways.

  Abby shrugged. She’d never heard of that, either. Blake lived in a whole other world from her—a world where people followed him around and took pictures of him and wrote articles; a world where he owned over ten different businesses and was responsible for other people’s jobs; a world where he was engaged to a beautiful woman named Natalie; a world where Abby would never belong....

  * * *

  Blake matched Eli’s long strides across the rolling pasture leading to the barn. The bleating flock of sheep looked nearly invisible against the hillside, blanketed in snow. Some of the small, fluffy animals skittered toward the barn as they approached.

  “No one was expecting this weather,” Eli said, “including the animals. They look ready to get inside and get warm and dry.”

  “So, what’s the procedure?”

  “Well, if you will just slide open the barn doors and stand in the aisle at the second gate, I’ll herd them in. With you blocking the back of the aisle, they’ll file into the first holding pen. Make sure that gate is open. It should be.”

  “I think I can do that.” Blake headed to the great-barn door. He slid it to the left and walked inside the large structure. The air was warm and surprisingly dry. The second gate was open, so Blake positioned himself just a step farther down the long aisle. Seconds later, he heard a rumbling of hooves. He turned just in time to watch the first of the little critters race into the dry, straw-filled pen. Eli brought up the end of the line, giving one or two of the more reluctant ones a little push on the rear.

  “Lock the gate,” Eli instructed after he chased them into the pen.

  Blake shut and pinned the gate. Eli smiled as he hopped effortlessly over the high railing and touched Blake’s shoulder. “Cows next.”

  Following Eli’s lead, Blake helped repeat a similar but slightly more challenging process with the small herd of cattle. Soon the barn was filled with the animals’ warmth and smells and sounds. Blake found himself smiling at the sight—it looked like a Norman Rockwell Christmas card, only it was the month of April.

  “Wow. That was kind of fun.” Blake laughed, then paused to take an awkwardly long step over a pile of manure. “I guess you can tell I haven’t been around many farm animals.”

  “We’ll make a farmer of you yet.” Eli patted him on the back.

  They stepped outside, and Blake took in a long, deep breath of the fresh, snow-filled air. “I have to admit that it’s extremely pleasant here. I like it much more than I’d anticipated.”

  Eli nodded. “I missed this place—the smells, the sounds, the people—every day when I lived in Philadelphia. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad I was a cop for ten years. But now I’m so glad I’m home.”

  The word home stung Blake’s ears. “Home. I feel like I don’t have one right now. I suppose that’s why I’m here. Without my parents, New York suddenly didn’t feel like home anymore.”

  Eli’s expression grew dim. “After dinner last night, Abigail told us about your loss. I’m very sorry. My dat and I have our issues—as you saw this morning—but I can’t imagine losing him. Nor my mamm.” He looked back dreamily toward the house. “Nor Hannah.”

  Blake swallowed hard. Eli’s words tightened the band of ever-present loneliness that strangled his heart. “Thank you. It was difficult to make the decision to leave so much in limbo back home to be here. But in the end, it felt like the right thing to do. I only wish it were going a little smoother.”

  “You are having difficulties with your search? I didn’t know that,” Eli said. “As I said last night, I will be happy to help you in any way I can. I did used to be a detective.”

  Blake smiled at Eli’s humor. He wondered how one sibling could be so intense and the other so seemingly laid-back. “Actually, it looks like the lawyer I was hoping to get information through is unavailable. I’ll have to call back the man in New York who helped me with the contact here and see if he knows anything. But I suppose my next move would be to comb through public birth records. Not sure how that works...and I’m surprised you want to help. Your sister doesn’t really approve of my plan to find my birth parents.”

  “I think my sister likes to claim opinions on many subjects that she has little experience with.” Eli lifted his eyebrows playfully.

  “What else should I know about your sister?” Blake laughed.

  “Too much to tell you between here and the house.” Eli laughed with him. “But in all seriousness, I can hook you up with the Lancaster Public Records. If you know specifically which township, that would save you a lot of time.”

  “According to the file my mother passed on to me, the transaction was signed in Millersville. The document doesn’t reveal the names of my birth parents, but it does state that Willow Trace was their town of residence,” Blake shared in a tentative voice.

  “Okay, then. The old Hall of Records. I’ll take you there on Monday.”

  “That would be great.”

  “If you don’t mind, I might look into this lawyer that you went to see. If an office was there and then moved, all within one day, someone had to see it happen. Let’s look into that.” Eli stopped alongside the whitewashed four-board fence. He stretched his arms over the top rail and leaned back. Looking out over his land, his expression was a mixture of deep thought and curiosity. “Too many strange things are happening. We need to figure out how this is all connected.”

  Blake stood against the wooden fence next to Eli, watching the heavy snow tumble through the air. So many thoughts scrambled through his head. “I’ve been wondering, too, if...”

  A dark figure flashed between trees in the distance. Blake turned to Eli. “Did you see that?”

  Eli followed the direction of Blake’s gaze across the rolling pastures and into the distance. It wasn’t difficult to detect the dark movement against the sea of white snow that lay before them.

  “I did.” Abby’s brother sprang into motion. “Come on. I think we can catch him. It might just be one of the teen boys who live nearby, but no one should be passing through here this time of night. Especially in this weather.”

  Blake fell in behind Eli as they tromped through the snow over the adjacent pasture and toward the dark figure. Their target moved away, but not nearly at the pace Eli could maintain. Blake struggled to keep up with Abby’s brother as they climbed a steep hill. But a better view of the dark figure made him forget the burning lactic acid in his thighs. The dark figure was certainly dressed as an Amish man—short, dark wool coat, black trousers and black brimmed hat—but
he was no teenager. He was a man, and judging by the white hair peeking out from under the brim of his black hat, an older man.

  “Do you recognize him?” Blake asked.

  “No,” Eli said over his shoulder. “But he’s no teenager. I don’t know who he is.”

  That it was a stranger seemed to alarm Eli even more for he somehow increased his already frantic pace. The man picked up his own pace, running toward the nearby woods.

  Blake and Eli reached the edge of the woods where the man had disappeared. The forest was thick but Blake could just make out the lumber mill situated on the other side. The two men forged their way through the woods, following the set of fresh footprints that cut between the scattered birch trees toward the mill. The old wooden structure loomed as a daunting figure against the late-evening sky.

  Blake and Eli came to a screeching halt at the edge of the woods as a large black sedan blazed around the corner of the building. It raced along the side of the mill—heading straight for them.

  The two men scrambled back into the cover of the trees as the vehicle swung at them, just missing the closest trunk. Blake noted that the grill of the car was badly dinged and the passenger side was scratched and dented. The car flew past them, screeching its wheels as it slowed to take a left out onto the highway that ran in front of the mill.

  Blake ran after the car to the edge of the road, watching as it disappeared behind the next hill. “I think that was the car that hit Abby. Did you see the dents along the side?”

  “Yeah. I did.” Eli stopped beside him. “But I didn’t get the license-plate numbers. The car was moving so fast. Did you see anything?”

  “No. But I’m thinking it must have been the man in the woods that we were following.”

  “I’m sure it was, even though he was dressed Amish.”

  “I think first we should go back and check on the ladies. We’ve been gone for a long time. I’m starting to think that we should never have left.”

  ELEVEN

  “You must be feeling better.” The strain in Blake’s face had lessened considerably since he and her brother had entered the house. They’d explained about the strange man in Amish clothing and the black car at the mill. Hannah and Eli had gone into the kitchen to put dinner on the table, insisting that Abby stay in the sitting room and entertain their guest.

  Abby suspected that her brother had taken quite a liking to Blake and was aiming to get them to know each other better by leaving them alone. If he’d seen the pictures of Blake in a tux with a beautiful brunette on his arm and knew what Abby did about his money and fiancée and celebrity status, she was pretty sure he would change his mind about getting all chummy.

  “Yes, much better.” She had resumed her seat on the couch that she’d occupied most of the evening. Blake sat across from her in the most uncomfortable but closest chair to her spot. His nearness made her a bit uneasy. Or maybe it was the way he fiddled with the wool hat Eli hat lent him. He’d made a job of staring at it and twirling it between his fingers. He only lacked a pair of black trousers and suspenders and he would have passed for a member of the Ordnung.

  “I can’t believe the guy that ran you off the road was right there,” Blake said, startling her out of her thoughts. “So close. And we couldn’t do anything to stop him.”

  “Was he tall and heavyset with cold, gray eyes?”

  Blake looked up with a start. “No, in fact, he was quite the opposite. Well, we weren’t close enough to see his eyes, but he had a slight frame. He was fast. And so is your brother.”

  Abby smiled. “Eli may not have caught him this time, but he won’t give up. Persistence is one of my brother’s greatest flaws—and virtues.” Thinking back over what she’d learned earlier that evening, she realized that that quality could also be used to describe the photojournalist who so diligently captured every event in Blake’s life. “Hey...does the name Daveux mean anything to you?” How about Natalie?

  Blake scratched his head and looked pensive. But before he offered an answer, Abby’s cell phone chimed. She pulled the phone from her pocket and read the screen. “It’s one of the prepaid numbers. Must be a patient.”

  He nodded.

  “Hello?”

  “Abigail. Doomla—hurry.” The Pennsylvania Dutch sounded a bit anxious. “It’s time. Anna is going to have her baby tonight.”

  “Ja, Mr. Brenneman, rest easy. How far apart are the contractions?”

  “Two minutes.”

  Two minutes? That meant the baby was coming very soon. With all the snow, would they even make it? She had to try. Abby stood and headed for the stairs so she could grab her things from the upstairs bedroom. “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she promised before hanging up the phone.

  “What? Where are you going?” Blake asked. “You’re not in any shape to go anywhere.”

  “I forgot. I don’t even have a car.” Abby stopped at the edge of the stairs, completely ignoring Blake’s comment. “I guess I can take Eli’s horse and buggy. That will take forever, though.”

  “Are you not listening to me?” Blake stood and headed toward her. “You can’t go anywhere. You’ve been in a serious accident.”

  “I have a patient with a baby to deliver.” She started up the stairs. She would need her coat and her car keys to open the trunk.

  “I’ll go. I can deliver a baby. Or they can go to the hospital.” He grabbed her elbow before she passed the third step. “You have to stay here.”

  Abby swung around, not realizing how close he stood behind her. Their faces were inches apart. She looked away and brushed her hair off her shoulder. “I appreciate your concern, but I have to go and you can’t do anything to stop me.”

  “Time for dinner.” Eli entered the room, eyeing them curiously. “What’s the matter?”

  Abby explained the situation. “Anna shouldn’t deliver for another week or so. I have to be there.”

  “They should call an ambulance,” Blake said. “Or I could go.”

  “Not going to happen.” Abby couldn’t keep the frustration from her voice. Blake was wasting time arguing with her.

  “Abby is right, Blake,” Eli said quickly. “The Brennemans will not be comfortable with anyone but her. They won’t call an ambulance, either. But you should take her. Go together. It’s not far. You should be fine in Blake’s car. If not, you can ride a horse or get as close as you can and walk the rest of the way.”

  Abby froze on the step as her brother told them what to do and how to do it. He was turning into the proverbial Amish head of the family. The only thing lacking was a houseful of children, and judging by the new snugness in the waistline of Hannah’s frock, it wouldn’t be long before the first one joined their home.

  Abby was just grateful that this time, the patriarch was on her side. She smiled and turned to Blake. “He’s right. I have to go. But if you would drive I would be very grateful.”

  “Yes, this plan I can live with.” He grabbed his coat from the back of the chair and waited for her at the front door.

  In less than three minutes, the two of them were out the door, in Blake’s car and halfway down the snowy drive.

  “Stop at the ditch with my car. I have to get my medical kit.”

  Blake drove carefully through the snow, which, thankfully, had all but stopped falling. Blake threw the car into Park just across from her Malibu. “I’ll get it. In the trunk?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” Abby handed him the keys, then watched him cross the street, grab her equipment and return. He climbed back in behind the wheel and passed her things to her.

  “Thanks. And thanks for taking me. It’s not far to the Brennemans’. Just turn left here and go about a mile down the main street. It’s within a little cluster of homes on the right.”

  “It’s my pleasure.” Blake drove on, tur
ning onto the main road. “You know, that name you mentioned just before the phone call seemed really familiar but I can’t quite put my finger on it. What was it again? Devero? Is that someone at the hospital?”

  Abby swallowed hard at the reminder of the distance between them. “Daveux. He’s a celebrity photojournalist in New York. You didn’t tell me you were a celebrity.”

  “What? I’m not.” Blake frowned, with an air of confusion about his face.

  “I looked you up on Google. You are. And so were your parents. I read about all the good things all of you have done.”

  “That doesn’t make me a celebrity.”

  “A photojournalist has a whole page of his website devoted to you. That sounds like celebrity status to me.”

  “Well, it’s not.” Blake shook his head. “Listen, Abby. I’m a doctor. Not a celebrity. And yes, my parents gave a lot of money away and they liked all of that attention. But I don’t. So there—there’s another reason I left New York. And so what? What’s this all got to do with anything?”

  “I don’t feel like you’ve been honest with me about who you are. You’re a socialite. Isn’t that what you call it?”

  “My parents were socialites. Not me. You say things with such certainty, but you are not right about everything. And you really aren’t right about me. Sometimes I think you repeat your conviction about becoming a nurse because really deep down inside you wonder if you should have given it up and done what your father wanted. You’re no different than I am. Neither of us can figure out what’s ahead.”

  Abby could hardly take Blake’s painfully true words. Not even her own brother had dared to say those things to her. She swallowed hard and sucked in a difficult breath.

  “And why were you investigating me on Google?”

  “I felt like I wanted to...” She could feel his disapproving gaze on her. Ugh. Why did she even care? Why was she listening to a word he said? Wasn’t he engaged? Perhaps she should mention that she saw his fiancée in the pictures. Probably not. Abby shook her head. She was being ridiculous. She had to get all these silly, petty thoughts out of her head and concentrate on what was important. “I don’t know. I thought I might find something that would help us figure out why people are trying to kill us.”