Where Shadows Meet(40)

“If you know something, it’s your duty to tell me.”

“I’ll talk to Hannah only.”

He scribbled down the address and phone number where Hannah was staying. “Here’s her contact information. Don’t wait too long. I believe she’s in danger.” He pressed it into her hand. “I’m here to get her luggage and cats.”

Relief flooded her face. “They’ve dug up my flower bed trying to get some poor chipmunk.”

“You let them outside?” He had a vision of trying to corral four cats. It wasn’t pretty.

“I had no choice. They stood at the door and meowed until I wanted to cry.” She stepped through the door, and he followed. “Their carriers are on the back porch.”

He saw them stacked in the corner. “I’ll get them.” He grabbed two. Might as well get started. One black cat with white paws sat licking its paws in the flower bed. He approached with caution. “Hey there, kitty.” The animal looked up with obvious disdain in its green eyes. Matt set the animal containers on the ground and opened the doors. “Want to go see Hannah?” He rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. Like the dumb things could understand.

To his surprise, the feline gave one last lick, then calmly walked into the closest cage and curled into a ball. He clicked the door into place before the cat could change its mind. Glancing around, he spied a white cat under a blooming crabapple tree. He scooped up the second carrier and walked toward the cat. The animal scampered away and leaped onto a branch about face high, where it hunkered down among the white blossoms that gave off a sweet scent.

He set the cage down, then scooped up the cat. It meowed and squirmed, but he managed to stuff it inside and get the gate closed. When he turned around, Blake came toward him with the other carriers.

“I’ve got them,” he said.

Matt caught a glimpse of a calico face and a ginger tabby. At least he didn’t have to chase them down. Once they loaded the cats and the girls’ luggage in the SUV, he nodded toward the woods. “Let’s take another look around while we’re here.” He ran the windows down and headed out back.

The crime scene tape still marked off the area in the clearing. He ducked under it and glanced at the spot where they’d found the body. The technicians would have gone over that area with a fine-tooth comb. But maybe something else was here. Birds scolded from overhead as the men picked their way through the underbrush.

He caught a glimpse of movement between the leaves. “Hey!” he yelled.

A man’s face peered through the foliage. Ruddy cheeks bloomed above his black beard laced with gray. Matt guessed him to be about forty. Dressed in jeans and a bright red shirt to alert hunters to his presence, he stepped from the concealing bushes and came toward them with a backpack slung over one shoulder and a GPS unit in the other. A woman about the same age followed. Her jeans had muddy patches on the knees, and she wore a red long-sleeved blouse. Her long hair, streaked with white, held twigs and leaves. A plethora of patches covered their vests.

Once he got nearer, Matt recognized the man as the geocacher who’d found Moe’s body. Kevin Brainerd.

“Is there a problem, Detective?” Kevin asked. He stood with his feet planted apart.

“You live near here?” Matt asked.

Kevin shook his head. “Me and my wife”—he thrust a thumb at the woman—“we got a place on the other side of the county.”

“I’m surprised you’re back over here considering what you found the other day.”

Kevin shifted and glanced at his wife. “With all the hoopla, we never found the cache we were looking for.”

“Did you know the victim?” Matt asked.

Another quick glance at his wife. “Well, we bought vegetables from his mom every summer, and we talked to him occasionally.”

“Find your cache this time?”

Kevin smiled then. “Yep. A nice assortment of coins and DVDs. We took a coin and left a shirt patch.” He pointed to a patch on the shoulder of his shirt. “Had them specially made.”

“All right, then, stay clear of the taped-off area.”

“Yes, sir.” The two headed north, away from the meadow.

Matt turned to Blake. “If they found the cache, what are they still doing here?”





TWELVE


“The Postage Stamp Quilt is a beautiful example of intricate work. And you might be surprised to know that many Amish love to travel. They hire drivers to take them on vacation. They refuse to fly and will only travel by boat, train, or automobile.”

—HANNAH SCHWARTZ,

IN The Amish Faith Through Their Quilts

Reece stalked the roadside, kicking at dandelion blossoms and other blooming wildflowers. All he wanted to do was talk to Hannah, but she thwarted him at every turn. She never even gave him a chance to say he was sorry.

The kid was the key. He knew his wife, and she’d do anything for a child.

Her gentle nature had attracted him, but once he’d married her, he’d found her tough as shoe leather under that sweet smile. She had a way of defying him that most people wouldn’t notice because of its subtlety. Who would have thought she could have hidden herself away from him so completely for five years? She had to have had help.

But now he’d found her. He’d been so lonely without her. No one else looked at him with stars in her eyes. No one else turned to him for love and protection. She’d always made him a bigger man than he was. He wanted her to love him completely again. It was her duty anyway. The minute he’d met Hannah, he’d known she was the missing piece of his soul. If anyone could understand the demons that sometimes took him, it was her. She’d disappointed him, though. Sorely. But things would be all right again. He could explain, make her see he was only thinking of her and of their marriage.