Where Shadows Meet(20)

Hannah hadn’t thought of that. “Maybe he had someone help him.” It was stupid to try to argue this into being. “Oh, I don’t know what he would do. I could never second-guess Reece.” Though she’d tried for five long years. “But she’s not with my family.”

“How do you know?”

“She’s not dressed Amish.”

“What are you going to do?”

Before Angie asked, Hannah hadn’t been sure, but she lifted her head. “I’m going home to find out.”

“Hannah, you can’t. We’ve got a full lineup of publicity events.” Angie crossed her arms over her chest.

“Reschedule them. This is important.”

“Your book sales are important. You owe this to your publishing house. This time may never come again, Hannah. Be smart about it.”

Hannah hesitated. Maybe Angie was right. They were riding the crest of a wave. “I’ll do today’s, and I’ll do FOX & Friends. But reschedule the rest.”

Angie must have recognized the inflexible tone of Hannah’s voice, because she nodded. “This journey might make the news if we let it out.”

“I don’t want anyone to know what’s going on.” The odds were against the child’s being her daughter, and Hannah would look foolish for thinking otherwise. Besides, her loss was too painful to talk about.

“Everyone would sympathize with your plight. And the publicity might help you find the little girl faster.”

“No. I couldn’t do that to her. I expect Reece is just messing with my head anyway.” She should put it out of her mind. Tear up the picture and get on with her life. She looked down at the picture in her hand again. What if this child really was her daughter?

“I don’t know the guy,” Angie said. “But could this be his way of flushing you out?”

“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter. I have to know.” The desire scorched her. If there was even the slightest possibility that this little girl could be hers, Hannah would follow any rabbit trail, walk on nails, climb mountains. She’d even face the devil himself—Reece. The man she suspected might have killed her parents.





SEVEN


“The Sunshine Diamond Quilt is simple but has a beautiful message—look for the good everywhere.”

HANNAH SCHWARTZ,

IN The Amish Faith Through Their Quilts

A lightning rod rode the crest of the roof, and as the breeze shifted, a rooster weather vane swung around to face Matt Beitler. He approached the freshly painted red barn. The sliding door stood open, spilling out the scent of hay and horse.

His dog, Ajax, strained at the leash. “Stay,” Matt said. The dog fell back, then sat on his haunches. His grayed muzzle pointed up toward Matt in a hopeful gesture. Matt looped the other end of the leash around a hitching post and glanced around the property.

“Let’s check inside.” His partner, Blake Lehman, stepped around him.

“Wait a minute—we haven’t secured the scene!” Matt grabbed at the deputy’s arm, but Blake shook him off. “The geocacher who found the body said it was in the woods behind the barn.”

“But the perp could be hiding here.” Blake moved through the barn door.

Matt didn’t object. Maybe it was better to have him out of the way. “I’m heading to the woods,” he called. “Backup should be here any minute.”

He turned and surveyed the sparse grass between the outbuildings and the house. Laundry hung from a line strung from the house to the top of the barn. He noticed a pulley that allowed the occupants to run the clothes up the line and back. A buggy sat parked partway under a tree.

“Amish,” Blake said with a twist to his mouth. “Our schools are in trouble because of them. We’ve lost funding since they moved into the area.”

Matt stepped to the back porch and pounded on the door. “Sheriff’s department,” he called. Only silence answered. Nothing stirred in the yard. Matt veered across the lawn, grabbed Ajax’s leash, then headed toward the back. Dry grass crunched under his shoes, and the wind moaned through the treetops. He eased behind the barn, but the area was empty. No back door here. He darted across the empty pasture to the woods. Blake sounded like a herd of elephants following him.

Matt turned and frowned. “Keep it down!”

“Maybe it’s a prank call,” Blake said.

“I don’t think so. Look at Ajax.” He pointed to his dog. Tension showed in every line of the muscular German shepherd’s body. Ajax strained at the leash. “The caller said about fifty feet inside the woods, on the other side of a meadow.”

Matt couldn’t hear anything above the wind and the crunch of dead leaves. Ajax dragged him on. A loud buzzing began to ring in his ears, and he knew what he’d find before he stepped past the meadow into the shade of a large oak tree.

Flies rose in a cloud at their approach, then settled back onto the body, a man dressed in the typical Amish garb of dark pants, a white shirt, and a straw hat. The man was smooth-shaven, so he must not have been married. The heat had caused the body to begin the decay process, and the stink of death coated Matt’s nose.

“Looks like poison,” Blake said. “Probably strychnine from the way he’s contorted.”