Abby looked out over the fields surrounding the Stoltz farm. Where were the men? She wanted to tell Blake and Eli where she was going. But she didn’t see them anywhere. They were probably all gone to the other side of the barn to play a game. In any case, there was no time for her to waste searching. Blake would only want to come with her, which Becka and Jonas wouldn’t want. She wasn’t too sure she did, either. In any case, Hannah knew what had happened. She’d been standing there when the cell phone rang along with ten other women who all knew Becka Esche was about to deliver. Any one of those women could tell the boys what had happened and they would figure out where she was...if they even noticed she was gone.
Abby arrived at her buggy and chucked her cell phone into the front seat. Becka’s panicked voice rang through her ears. The buggy might be too slow, she thought. So Abby unhitched Blue-jeans. She would ride him to the Esches’. Cutting across the Lapps’ and the Youngers’ fields, she would be there in no time.
* * *
“I don’t like this,” said Blake.
“How long ago did she receive that phone call?” Eli asked his wife.
“A while.” Hannah shrugged and Blake realized she had no watch. Whatever figure she came up with would be pure conjecture.
“Like ‘twenty minutes’ a while or like ‘over an hour’?” Eli placed a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. “I didn’t tell you this because I didn’t want you to worry. But the FBI is still looking for Anthony Linton and Pooler.”
“What?” Hannah’s expression darkened. “Why didn’t you tell me? Abigail is still in danger, isn’t she?”
“I didn’t know this, either,” Blake said.
“You were in New York,” Eli explained. “The FBI had you under surveillance. They didn’t want you or Abby to know because they want Linton and Pooler to think it’s safe to come out.”
“Then someone is watching Abby now?”
“I don’t know. At first, they were certain that Linton had left the country with Pooler. But now they aren’t so sure. There are phone calls back to someone in the States. So they think Linton or someone is still here. In Lancaster.”
“Linton?”
“I guess.”
“I have a really bad feeling about Abby’s taking off like this.” Blake’s pulse was already rising when he followed Eli’s pointed finger, which directed everyone’s eyes across the grassy field to an approaching white truck.
“That’s Chief McClendon,” said Eli.
“And he’s headed right for us.” Blake shook his head. Abby was in trouble. He could feel it.
“I hate to interrupt the wedding—” McClendon spoke quickly “—but there didn’t seem to be any other way to get in touch with you.”
Blake felt his pockets before remembering he’d left his cell phone in the buggy. “Why? What’s happened?”
“More like what’s happening.” McClendon looked through the wedding guests. “Where is Abigail? She needs to hear this, too.”
“We aren’t sure,” said Blake. “It seems she went to deliver a baby without telling anyone. On horseback. I doubt she has her phone.”
McClendon frowned and swallowed hard. Blake did not like the look on the chief’s face.
“What is it?” he asked. “Why did you come to the wedding?”
“The FBI found Pooler and Linton. They were both on Grand Cayman. But Dr. Dodd was not with them.”
“Dr. Dodd? What’s he got to do with anything?” Blake said, thinking about the overly efficient administrator of Fairview.
“Everything. He has everything to do with this—he was the brains behind the whole concept. He started the whole affair of stealing and selling Amish babies and has continued it for over thirty years. He’s a very dangerous man and the FBI thinks he’s still inside of Lancaster County. He was brought up Amish, so he knows how to blend in, play the part, disappear and fool others.”
“Wow. That explains a lot. And where better to hide in Lancaster County than among the Amish?” said Eli. “Come on. Let’s go find Abigail and hunt down this baby-stealing monster.”
Blake was already halfway to Chief McClendon’s truck, where he saw Detective Langer already seated at the wheel.
“Where are we going?” said McClendon.
“To Becka Esche’s.”
* * *
Abby was really sorry that she wasn’t wearing a pair of pants. Blue-jeans was a great horse to ride, but not bareback and not in her Amish frock. She hadn’t done this since she and Hannah were little girls. And just like back then, her prayer Kapp dropped to the ground and her hair danced around her shoulders with the beat of the horse’s gait. But after she got over the initial discomfort, muscle memory kicked in. So, once the gelding settled into a steady canter, Abby was able to join the horse’s rhythm and think about what lay ahead.
Becka had gained very little weight during her pregnancy. What little bit she had eaten never seemed to stay down. Abby had never felt that Becka’s pregnancy had been healthy and she had begged her—as she did all her patients—to see a licensed gynecologist at least once. But Becka and her husband, Jonas, had refused. With most of her Amish patients, the idea of a gynecologist did not sit well and was considered an unnecessary modern practice. But that was not the whole story with Jonas and Becka. They had actually been to the hospital with their first pregnancy. The baby had been born with a rare disease and died within hours of delivery. After that, nothing would convince either of them to return to a hospital or an Englisch doctor. And Abby could hardly blame them after such a bad experience. In fact, she thought it quite possible that stress and anxiety were the reasons for Becka’s difficult pregnancy.
Thinking of Jonas, it was odd he wasn’t at home with Becka. Jonas knew Becka was near term, and after what had happened last time, what could possibly have kept him from his wife? Abby could not imagine. As she rode up on their little cottage, she looked around. The place seemed eerily quiet. No dogs? No Jonas waiting at the door for her?
“Jonas?”
Abby saw their buggies parked by the paddock. Their three horses grazed in a small field next to the house. Abby dismounted, pulled off the bit and reins, and steered Blue-jeans into the field with the other horses. Jonas must be inside with Becka, she thought. He couldn’t be far. All of his horses were there and Jonas was a carpenter. He and Becka didn’t have a big farm or lots of animals to tend to over a big spread of land. Even from the farthest edge of their property, he should have heard her approaching. So why hadn’t he come up to the door to greet her and take her horse?
The muscles in her neck tensed. Something wasn’t right. She moved faster toward the house.
“Becka? Jonas?”
A woman’s cry of pain pierced the still air. It was Becka. Was the baby already coming?
Please, Lord, please, let Becka and the baby be healthy.
Almost running now, Abby entered the house. Becka was on her back on the hardwood floor, a blanket thrown over her legs and lap. Her lips and face were gray with pain. Jonas stroked her hair. His eyes were closed as he whispered up prayers in a rotelike fashion.
Becka opened her tearstained eyes and tried to focus on Abby. “I told you not to come.”
Abby stopped fast as she understood why Becka was on the floor, why Jonas was praying, why Becka had told her not to come.
Across the room, seated in a comfortable upholstered chair, was Dr. Dodd. He had a large handgun aimed at the Esche couple and a big creepy smile for her.
“We’ve been waiting for you,” he said. A disgusting snarl slid across his face and he laughed. “You, Miss Miller, are going to deliver your last baby. But not here.”
He stood, waving his gun around, as he walked toward the couple, holding the gun over Becka’s head. “Pick her up and put her in the car,” he ordered Jonas.
&nbs
p; “What?” Abby knew why he wanted them to move. He knew as well as she did that others would join them soon. That didn’t make the idea any less insane. “You can’t move her in this condition. You’re a doctor. You know this. Look at her. She’s in agony and in labor.”
“Of course she’s in labor. I gave her a huge dose of Pitocin, too. Should speed things up. I don’t have a whole lot of time. I need that baby.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Abby said. “But you will be putting the baby and the mother at risk if you move them.”
“I’m holding a gun. You are all at risk.” He laughed.
Good point. Abby sighed. She was not going to win this fight, but she would do whatever she had to do to keep Becka and her baby alive.
Jonas didn’t wait any longer. He scooped his struggling wife into his arms and stood.
“You.” Dodd pointed the gun at Abby. “You’re driving. My car is around back. I think you’ll recognize it.”
Abby glanced out the back door, which was wide open. Parked behind the house was the same black sedan that had run her off the road last week. One by one, they filed out of the house and into the car. Dodd pointed his gun at one head and then at another, reminding them that obeying was their only option if they wanted to stay alive—for now.
* * *
“There’s Blue-jeans!” Blake saw Abby’s horse, happily grazing in the small paddock next to the tiny home that Eli had directed them to. Fortunately, it was not too far from the Holly Hill Farmhouse. But still, they had no idea how much time had passed since Abby had arrived. Blake shivered. Abby could have fallen into Dodd’s hands over an hour ago.
Langer parked the Lancaster County Police truck in front of the house. Blake and Eli leaped from the vehicle.
“You go inside.” Eli ran as he spoke, holding the spare handgun he’d taken from McClendon. He let his black felt hat fall to the ground behind him. “I’m going to cover the perimeter. Make sure no one goes anywhere.”
McClendon and Langer radioed in their location and followed close behind.
Blake flew through the front door and into the tiny living space. He stopped short over a pool of blood covering a small area in the center of the hardwood floor. A white-and-yellow quilt had been thrown to the side. It was also stained with fresh blood. The rest of the house was as neat as a pin but empty. Completely empty.
“They’re not here.” Blake exited the Esches’ home through the open back door, meeting up with Eli, who’d just circled around the outside. “But there is blood on the floor. If that’s Becka’s blood then there could be complications, unless she’s already delivered.”
“She didn’t deliver yet. Dodd wants her baby. If the labor was over, he and the child would be gone and everyone else would be here.”
“He moved a woman in labor?”
“Probably at gunpoint. I don’t see Abby going along with it any other way.”
“You’re right.”
“Tire marks right here.” Eli pointed at the muddy ground. “These are fresh. It rained during the night. If they’re in a car, they could be anywhere. It could take days to find them. If he lets them live...”
Days? Lets them live? More panic washed over Blake. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. “Abby told me about Becka’s pregnancy—that she had problems last time delivering the placenta. Maybe Abby convinced everyone to go to the hospital?”
McClendon and Detective Langer caught up with them after combing through the house behind Blake. “Unlikely. Eli’s right. They are going to be hard to find.”
Blake couldn’t accept that. “Dodd wants that baby. He won’t risk sabotaging the delivery. I don’t think he’ll go far.”
“I’ll send units to the hospital,” McClendon said. “But that sounds risky for Dodd. Too many people—people who would recognize him.”
Blake thought hard. Where else could they go with proper medical facilities for the delivery? Somewhere close-by... “Abby’s clinic?”
McClendon looked to Eli. Eli nodded. “Certainly worth a look.”
The four men raced back to McClendon’s police car and headed toward Abby’s cottage, hoping they had guessed correctly and praying that they wouldn’t arrive too late.
* * *
Jonas helped Abby place his wife on the examination table of her clinic.
“The same London family wants a sibling,” said Dodd. “I’ve already chartered a flight to London for this afternoon.”
“The same family?” Abby’s brain took a second but then the whole affair made sense to her. “Becka’s first baby didn’t die, did it? You stole it and sold it. And now you want this one, too.”
Thankfully, Dodd was so obsessed with getting the Esches’ child she’d been able to convince him that he’d have the infant in less than ten minutes and that she’d needed a decent delivery setting immediately. She’d been bluffing, of course. She hadn’t even examined her patient. She’d had no idea how long it would take. But now that they were in her clinic, she realized that she had not been far from the truth. Becka’s baby was well on its way. Abby cleaned herself up and began coaching Becka through the labor. Jonas helped, too, making Becka as comfortable as possible.
It didn’t take long—not even ten minutes. But for those very few minutes, Abby had been able to forget about the gun pointed at the back of her head and concentrate on the miracle of birth, on the comfort of her patient and on the safe delivery of the Esches’ child.
“It’s a girl.” She delivered the infant into the arms of her father, then cut the umbilical cord. Jonas was crying. Becka looked gray and in more pain than Abby thought she had ever seen in any mother. She didn’t seem to even understand that the baby had come.
“She’s healthy,” Abby told Becka. “Everything is going to be fine.”
And that was what Abby had thought until the second she cut the cord. It retracted.
That wasn’t supposed to happen.
Becka tucked up into a ball, hardly able to endure the pain. It was happening again. Her placenta was still attached. Just like last time when they’d been in the hospital and Dodd had stolen their first baby. At least then another doctor had been there to take the necessary measures to save Becka. Dodd was her only hope. Delivering an attached placenta was tricky, dangerous and if not done correctly could cause infection and death.
“Dr. Dodd, you have to help her. Her placenta is attached.” Abby turned to the crazed doctor.
“I don’t have to do anything.” Dodd moved forward. He shoved Abby to the ground and put a bullet through her stomach. “Like I said. This was your last delivery.”
Abby fell back to the floor. She grabbed at her midsection. Gritting her teeth, she pressed down on the hole before it had even begun to bleed. She could do nothing but watch as Dodd grabbed the baby from Jonas’s arms.
He was too focused on the infant to even notice that his carelessly aimed shot hadn’t hit any vital organs. There was still a chance that blood loss could finish her, but if she was able to get treatment in time, she’d survive. She was careful not to draw his attention in her direction, or he might notice. If he fired a second, more fatal shot, she wouldn’t be able to help Becka.
“I don’t have to worry about you. You won’t fight back,” he said to Jonas and then he was gone. Abby could hear the tires of his car crunching over the gravel as he sped out of her driveway, taking the Esches’ child with him.
Abby closed her eyes as the pain receptors from her abdomen reached her brain and told it she’d been shot.
Please, Lord, she prayed, please. I need Your hands and Your strength.
Somehow, she was going to get up off that floor and she was going to do whatever she could to save Becka Esche. And she was going to pray that the FBI was right behind Dodd on its way to recover the Esche baby—
and that the paramedics would make it to her clinic soon, for Becka’s sake...and for her own.
* * *
“I don’t see anyone there.” Blake’s heart sank to his stomach as McClendon’s squad car pulled up in front of Abby’s cottage and clinic.
“No, look!” Eli put a hand on his shoulder. “The front door is open. Someone has been here.”
Detective Langer drew his pistol and led the way into Abby’s house. Blake and Eli followed close behind. None of them were prepared for what they saw as they entered the clinic.
“He’s gone.” Abby’s voice was weak as she sat next to her patient holding a set of delivery forceps. “He took the baby with him. You have to find him.”
“You’ve been hurt!” Blake rushed forward, only half hearing Abby’s words. He pulled her hand away from her waist. “You’ve been shot.”
“Forget...that. I’m...fine.” She turned his attention toward Becka Esche as she struggled to breathe and speak. “She needs...help. The afterbirth...”
“Please, you’re a doctor, aren’t you?” An Amish-dressed man stood next to Abby’s patient. He was so calm and quiet Blake had hardly noticed him there. He must be Mr. Esche. “I’ve been praying that you would come and save my Becka.”
Blake’s head swirled. He looked back at Abby, hesitating. She’d been shot. She was bleeding and hadn’t stopped to bandage the wound. Already she had lost a lot of blood as she’d clearly been trying to use every bit of her energy to save her patient.
She wasn’t fine.
Every bit of Blake’s will told him to check Abby and her wound. To save her, to save the woman he’d come back to Lancaster for. The woman he loved and he didn’t want to live without.
She shook her head at him. “I can wait for the EMTs. She can’t. She’s already passed out.”
Abby held out the forceps for him. Blake resigned himself to doing what Abby wanted.
He turned to the sink. “I need to scrub. Eli, you’ll assist me. For starters, wash your hands. Grab that brown bottle over there and those strips of bandages.”
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