Where Shadows Meet(19)

Hannah put her hand to her throat. What did he mean? Hysterical laughter bubbled in her throat, but she choked it back.

Angie looked up. “‘Our daughter’? What is this, Hannah?” She glanced down at the envelope. “There’s another note in here.”

“From Reece?”

“No, it’s signed ‘Aunt Nora.’ Want me to read it too?”

“Sure.” Why would her aunt send a letter to her from Reece? Nora knew Hannah wanted no contact with him.

Angie cleared her throat. “‘Hannah, my dear, Reece has assumed I’m still in touch with you. He’s right of course. This letter showed up addressed to you. I opened it and was torn over whether I should send it, but in the end, I thought you should see this since it mentions your daughter. I hope it’s not too upsetting.’”

Hannah wrapped her arms around herself. The memories of her fall began to flood back, but she refused to think about it. He was just trying to twist the knife. And doing a good job. Her daughter was dead. Her gaze went to the picture. She picked it up and turned it over.

A little girl of about five stood looking into the camera. Her auburn curls sprang from her head. Her golden brown eyes smiled along with her mouth. She was in front of a familiar covered bridge. Squinting, Hannah could make out the words above it. It was the Narrows Bridge, just two miles from her old home. Hannah could have been looking at a picture of herself at that age. “It can’t be,” she whispered. She tried to find another explanation. Maybe it was Luca’s child. She’d tried to call him at work several times, but she always lost her nerve before he got to the phone. She glanced at the photo again. No, that couldn’t be right. Aunt Nora wouldn’t have sent this if it were a picture of Luca’s child. Besides, the child wasn’t dressed Amish.

She pressed her fingers to her head. “Oh, I’m so confused.”

“Let me see.” Angie took the picture from Hannah’s fingers. “Hannah, she looks like you. You have a daughter?”

Hannah shook her head slowly and began to recount the story.

Every muscle screamed in agony. Her mind replayed falling down the steps. She thought he’d pushed her, but even if it had been accidental, the fall killed her baby, and it was his fault. The horror of that knowledge nearly made her vomit. She’d shared her bed, her dreams, with that man. He’d taken everything she had to give and then destroyed what she treasured most.

“Could I have some water?” she whispered from the hospital bed. She had to get him out of the room.

When he left to get the water, she threw back the covers and staggered from the bed. Ignoring the pain that gripped her, she managed to get to the closet. She had to hurry. He’d be back any minute. She had to escape him once and for all, or he would kill her too.

She managed to pull on her skirt and blouse, to thrust her feet into her shoes. Her purse was in the bottom of the locker. If she could get to the shelter, they would take care of her, she’d been told. When he’d broken her arm last year, the nurse had insisted Hannah take the information about a shelter.

It took her way too long to get dressed with the agony slowing her movements. He’d be back any second.

Nearly bending double with the pain, she peeked out the door. To her left, Reece had his back to her and was haranguing a nurse. To her right was another exit. She slipped out of the room and hurried to the door as fast as the pain would allow. Glancing behind her, she saw Reece starting back to the room. She slipped into another doorway and waited until he entered her room. A patient behind her asked a question, but she had no strength to answer. As soon as the coast was clear, she darted back to the hallway, through the exit, and rushed toward the elevator. It dinged and opened almost as soon as she punched the button, and she breathed a prayer of thanks.

She stepped inside and pressed the lobby button. As the doors closed, she heard Reece’s angry shout. Her last glimpse of him caught the murderous expression in his eyes.


When Hannah finished her story, she found Angie wiping tears from her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” Angie whispered. “Have you seen him since?”

“No. I made it to the shelter. They helped me change my name to Hannah Miller, which I’ve used in my private life, hid me while I got a legal separation—I don’t believe in divorce. I finished my master’s degree and got this job three years ago with their help. I always thought he’d find me again.” She’d spent the last five years watching children on the street, wondering what her daughter would have looked like if she’d lived. The pain had never gone away. She knew better than to let herself hope. Reece’s manipulation had caused her pain too many times in the past.

“Do you think he pushed you on purpose—to kill the baby?” Angie asked.

“I—I’ve never been positive. I thought I felt a hard shove. It was enough to send me running away before he killed me.” She looked back down at the picture. “Surely she’s not still alive?” Just saying the words made hope spring to life.

“I can’t tell where this is,” Angie said, looking at the picture again.

“Parke County, Indiana.” The place she missed above all others. But it wouldn’t be the same now, not with her family gone.

“So he’s trying to say the baby didn’t die from the fall? That when she was born, he took her to Parke County? How is that possible? He was with you in the hospital.”