Where Shadows Meet(93)

Caitlin touched Hannah’s hair. “You have hair like mine. I’ve never seen anyone with hair like mine. Daddy says it’s fairy hair.”

Hannah managed a smile. “Maybe he’s right. My name is Hannah.”

“I’m Caitlin Beitler. My daddy is a sheriff’s detective. He’ll be mad that bad man took me.” She pointed at Reece. “Can you take me home now?”

“Soon,” she whispered too softly for him to hear. She craned her neck to face Reece. “Take off the chain. Give me the key and I’ll let her go.”

He shrugged. “Just make sure she doesn’t bolt. I don’t want to have to hurt her.” He dug into his pocket and found a small key that he dangled in the air above her head. “Say please.”

“Please, Reece.” She made a grab for the key and missed. He laughed. Forcing a smile, she grabbed his forearm. “You’re such a tease. Hand it over.”

He grinned at her sweet tone and dropped the key into her hand. “Thanks!” She stabbed the key into the lock and had Caitlin free in moments. Lifting the child in her arms, she relished the weight of her, the smell of her even through the stink of wet mud. Caitlin’s long hair brushed against Hannah’s arms and mingled with her hair. It was hard to tell whose locks were whose. Caitlin looped her arms around Hannah’s neck, and the trust in the movement nearly buckled Hannah’s knees. She sank onto the cot and held the child close.

She would never let her go. Never. And she’d kill anyone who tried to take her.





TWENTY - FIVE


“A pure white quilt with excellent stitching is always prized. My mother was a master of the quilt, and she told me white was her way of imagining heaven. The Amish strive to lead pure and holy lives in order to reach God.”

—HANNAH SCHWARTZ,

IN The Amish Faith Through Their Quilts

His grandmother had to know something. It all made a kind of weird sense. Matt gripped the steering wheel and gunned the SUV through the water standing on the road. Ajax whined in the seat behind him. How could Caitlin have disappeared the minute Trudy got her unless she’d called Reece to come get her? He skidded to a halt in front of the house.

He and Ajax went to the front door. He didn’t knock. “Trudy?” he called, stepping inside. The house was empty, silent. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen her vehicle outside. Sometimes she kept it in the backyard.

He walked through the house to the back door. Glancing through the window, he saw no sign of his grandmother’s old blue car. “Maybe she went to the grocery store,” he muttered. Ajax woofed as though he understood what Matt said.

He wandered down the hall toward Trudy’s bedroom. Irene had told him to ask Trudy about what had happened between them. How could that matter? He glanced around Trudy’s bedroom. Austere with white walls and bedding, it was immaculate. A prominent wardrobe stood in one corner, one he’d never peeked inside. Maybe now was the time. He stepped to the wardrobe and opened the doors. Stacks of quilts were inside. He pulled one out. It had a hummingbird pattern on it.

Could they be Patricia Schwartz’s quilts? What would Trudy be doing with them? They certainly resembled the ones he’d seen. A large family album caught his eye. Matt carried it into the kitchen under the light and set it on the counter. Irene had hinted that the seeds of this situation were in the past. Maybe this album would give him some clue.

He started at the front. The first black-and-white picture showed a young couple staring stiffly into the camera. He recognized Trudy. He assumed the man was his grandfather, though Matt had never seen him. He flipped through more pages and saw his father and Irene at various ages. He’d never realized he looked so much like his dad. He’d study these pictures later. Right now he had to find his daughter. There had to be something here.

He turned the page and stopped at a picture of Irene. Hannah had been right. His aunt was clearly pregnant. She looked as though she was ready to give birth any minute. On the next page, the pictures continued as though her pregnancy had never occurred. He studied the previous picture. From the clothing and hairstyle, Matt guessed the date to be in the early seventies. She still wore the long hair and caftan of her hippie days.

He studied the location. The setting looked familiar to him, but he couldn’t put his finger on where it was. Billie Creek, maybe? Matt tried to remember what his aunt had said about where her commune had been. “Sugar Creek,” he said, snapping his fingers. “That’s what Irene said. But where?” It would be a place to look. Maybe Reece knew about the place.

Matt turned a few more pages and came to another picture taken by the big creek, which more accurately was as big as a river. He studied one of the women in the photograph. She had the look of Hannah, but the clothing was all wrong. This picture would have been snapped before she was born.

Maybe Hannah’s mom? He studied the other couple in the picture— Irene and an Amish guy. Must have been Hannah’s dad on his rumspringa. The two sets were clearly paired up by the way they stood. It looked like his dad was seeing Hannah’s mom. He’d never heard that before. He thought back to the arguments in the house before his dad killed himself. It seemed his mom was always unhappy with how much time Dad spent in the barn and away at the greenhouse. Could it have been the Schwartz greenhouse?

“This is a weird tangle,” he muttered. Ajax whined at the stress in his voice, and Matt rubbed the dog’s ears. Maybe Reece gave the quilts to his grandmother, and she’d been covering for him. Maybe she’d even handed Caitlin over to him. He flipped through more pages of the album and stopped beside a newspaper clipping of his grandmother in her mid-to late forties. She was standing with a proud smile beside a white quilt. The caption read “Trudy Beitler Takes First Place at the State Fair with Her Hummingbird Quilt.”