Amish Christmas Abduction Page 3

  She’d had more than her share of pain in her life. And she might not like it, but if she was in danger, then she’d just have to get used to having him around until she was safe again.

  He wouldn’t take no for an answer.

  * * *

  What kind of person could take another woman’s baby? Irene’s heart was shattered as she struggled to withhold the tears brought on by the child’s fear and sorrow. It wasn’t a hard jump to imagine a mother somewhere, suffering through a nightmare.

  Irene held the little girl close as the doctor examined her. She knew the doctor was annoyed that she was getting in his way. She could hear it in his fussy voice and see it as he peered over the tops of his glasses at her. At them. But it made no difference. She had tried to set the child down. The doctors and nurses had tried to coax her away from Irene.

  It was no use. The child fought and kicked out any time someone tried to take her from her chosen protector. Which was how it came to be that Irene was allowed to hold her while the doctor examined her. And it was she who had helped the child out of her bloodstained dress. The process was made difficult because the girl wouldn’t completely release Irene. Eventually, it was managed. Irene was out of breath by that time.

  “Well, the good news is that the child doesn’t appear to be hurt. She needs some nutritious food, a bath and, I expect, rest.”

  Irene nodded. She had already surmised all that. “But the blood? Is any of it hers?”

  Please say no.

  “No.”

  She sagged slightly with relief, then caught herself and forced her tired back to straighten. She couldn’t give in to the weariness that was dragging at her.

  Someone knocked on the door. The child snuggled in closer. Irene leaned down and kissed the child’s head, offering what comfort she could. The door opened and Paul peeked into the room. Some of the familiar annoyance surged up briefly. Then it faded, when she remembered how happy she’d been to see him earlier. There had been a time when she had dreamed of Paul noticing her, back when they were both teenagers. Then he had noticed her, and for a few short months, she’d been happier than she’d ever been. Until he’d broken her trust and wounded her young heart.

  She’d been devastated.

  She’d managed to get over that. Had told herself she was better off without him. He’d hung out with a rough crowd back then, she mused. Well, except for Jace. She’d been sure Paul would end up arrested or worse. Before that could happen, he’d moved away for a few years. She couldn’t believe it when Jace said he’d become a cop.

  Not that she’d cared. She had fallen in love, gotten married and started a family. And then he had come back and become Tony’s boss. She had resented that, at first. After all, Tony had seniority. But Tony took it in stride, and, as time went on, Paul had proved to be a good boss. The reckless kid she’d known had learned to control his wild side and become dedicated to serving others. He’d also apparently developed a strong relationship with God.

  She had held on to her doubt, waiting for him to disappoint her again.

  But tonight, he had been a real gift. If he hadn’t come around that corner when he had, she would be dead. And who knew what would have happened to the little girl?

  “Hey,” he said in a loud whisper. “Jace will be here in a minute. He’s talking with your mom on the phone.” He indicated the little girl with a nod. “How is she?”

  “Well, she’s not injured,” the doctor replied. “Is someone from child services coming for her?”

  Irene grimaced. She had known that would be the next question, and she didn’t like it. Not that she had anything against child services. They did a job very few people had the stomach for. But she knew that her new friend was not going to go willingly.

  “I have not called child services yet,” Paul responded, his voice deep and sure.

  What? Shocked, her gaze flew in his direction.

  He met her eyes and shrugged. “As far as I’m concerned, this is still a police matter. Speaking of which, Doc, I will need her clothes with blood for DNA testing.”

  “I’ll ask my nurse. Mary—”

  All conversation stopped as the girl’s head whipped around.

  “Does she recognize the name, do you think?” Irene looked between the two men. They looked as surprised as she felt. “Maybe it’s her name.”

  Leaning back so she could see the small face, Irene tested her theory. “Mary? Hi, Mary.”

  The smile she received was like a ray of sunshine. Mary giggled and hunched her shoulders. It may or may not have been affirmative, but it was better than calling her “the child.”

  “Okay, then. We will need to keep Mary with us for the time being.”

  At the name, Mary smiled at Paul. He blinked. An answering smile softened the edges of his mouth. When was the last time she had seen a tender smile on his face? Paul was always in total control of himself. Her heart fluttered as the memory of that same smile from her high school days floated up to the forefront of her mind.

  Not going there. He had broken her trust and her faith before. She may have forgiven him, had even allowed his presence in her life and that of her children’s due to his friendship with Jace and Tony, but no more. And even if she was willing to believe he could be relied on, if there was one thing she didn’t need, it was an emotional entanglement with another cop.

  “Where will she stay?”

  Paul scratched the top of his head. She knew that mannerism. He was still trying to figure things out. To make all the pieces fit.

  “I don’t know.” She smiled at the admission. She had known it. “I was thinking of having a protective detail with Sergeant Zee in charge. Thought Mary would be more at ease with a woman in charge.”

  Irene nodded, saddened. A protective detail made sense, but it was a shame that it was needed. This little girl should be with her mother. Hopefully, Mary would be reunited with her family soon.

  Jace arrived. Without a word, he walked over and leaned in to kiss Irene’s forehead, careful not to crush Mary, who had fallen asleep. Irene blinked at the sweet gesture. She understood. Years ago, their baby sister Ellie had been killed. This night had reminded them all of their mortality.

  The only good thing was that Mary slept through the transfer as Irene passed her off to the nurse who would finish cleaning up the child before turning her over to the police. Irene knew Sergeant Zee. The woman was competent and kind. She had also been a caretaker for her grandmother for a while. She would take good care of Mary.

  If Mary let her.

  Well, that wasn’t Irene’s problem. She tried to keep her mind from focusing on the little girl.

  “Irene.”

  Oh, yeah. Paul.

  She turned, lifting an eyebrow in question. In place of his normal unruffled demeanor, his brow was furrowed. He was a troubled man.

  “I may need you to come in and look at the files to see if you recognize the man who attacked you if no one else can. I will check with his neighbors first. If we can’t identify him, I will need to schedule an appointment with the forensic artist to come up with a good sketch we can pass around.”

  “Okay. I can stop by the station tomorrow, if you need me to.”

  Jace interrupted, “We won’t be able to have anyone work with the artist until next week. You remember? Tara had surgery and won’t be back until then.”

  Paul’s mouth twisted. “I had forgotten. Well, if all works out, he’ll be someone already in our database. Wouldn’t that make life easier?”

  Neither responded. Nor did he seem to expect a response.

  “Come on, sis. I’ll drive you home.”

  Irene started to head out with her brother. Then she stopped and turned to find Paul’s deep brown eyes trained on her. His short dark hair was practically standing on end in pla
ces. He’d been running his hands through it. This had been a stressful evening for all of them.

  “Paul? Thank you. I mean it. You saved my life tonight.”

  He nodded and flashed her a weary smile. “Anytime, Irene. I’m glad I was in the area.”

  Feeling they’d said everything that needed to be said, she left the room. She was so worn-out that she closed her eyes the moment she was seated in the passenger seat of Jace’s cruiser.

  All she wanted to do was go in and hug her boys. She needed to reassure herself that they were safe and happy. The image of little Mary with her bloodstained clothing was burned into her brain. She would remember that sight for the rest of her life.

  At her mother’s house, she marched quickly up the walk and in through the front door. Jace had obviously salted the sidewalk and steps, she was happy to note. Her mom met her in the kitchen. Irene endured her mother’s scrutiny with as much patience as she could gather. Her mother needed the same reassurance she did.

  “Mom, where are the boys?”

  “They’re watching a Christmas movie.” Melanie Tucker, Jace’s wife, moved into the kitchen, holding her year-old daughter, Ellie, in her arms.

  Irene let the tension roll off her shoulders. She was safe. They were safe. She stepped past her sister-in-law, running a finger down her niece’s cheek.

  In the living room, she heard the soft voices of her children. A sudden rush of tears caught her off guard. She struggled for control. They had almost lost her. If Paul Kennedy had been farther away, this night might have had a whole different ending. For the first time in a long time, she felt as if she was being watched over. She shrugged the feeling off.

  And thought again of that little girl, left alone. What would become of her?

  Then another thought struck. Would the man be able to find out who she was? He’d seen her at the neighbor’s house. She had been carrying a bag with the Early Intervention logo on it.

  Irene hugged her arms close to her. Would he come looking for her?

  The day had started with so much hope. Now it was turning into a nightmare. As long as that man stayed at large, she didn’t know how she would ever feel that she and her children were safe.

  THREE

  “Chief, you need to come out here.”

  Paul shifted so his phone was wedged between his shoulder and his chin as he shrugged back into his coat. Sergeant Olsen’s voice was slightly muffled, but he could still hear the words clearly. Jerking his shoulder to adjust the fit of the coat, he took the cell phone back in his hand and strode out the sliding doors and back into the cold, snowy night.

  “I’m heading out now, Olsen. Just needed to wait for Sergeant Zee to get here.” He felt a little guilty. She had no idea what was coming when Mary woke up. Maybe it would be fine and Mary would take to her the way she had to Irene. Maybe. But, somehow, he doubted it.

  Thinking of Irene left a hollow feeling in his stomach. Was she safe? Jace would have called if something more had happened. But he couldn’t get the image of the bearded man out of his mind. He didn’t look like a man who would give up. One thing was sure—Paul wouldn’t be able to focus as long as Irene was still in danger. He grabbed his phone and put in a call, directing that someone would drive past her house each hour. Being the chief of police definitely had its perks.

  At the scene, he parked his cruiser in the driveway behind Olsen’s vehicle. It was obvious that the driveway had not been plowed in the past few hours. He couldn’t really tell if he was on the pavement or on the grass. Not that it mattered.

  “Chief.” Olsen trudged through the snow to meet him. “Jackson is with the neighbors right now. The people who called nine-one-one. I figured you might want to go over. And then there are some things in the house I want your opinion on.”

  Paul nodded. “Right. I’ll head right over.” He lifted his gaze to the house. It looked dark and ghoulish at night, very poorly lit. It had obviously not been kept up. Just what horrors did it hide inside? The sooner they finished processing this scene, the easier he would feel.

  Sergeant Jackson was still talking to the family when Paul entered the room.

  “Sir, this is Mr. and Mrs. Zilcher. They called in the shots when the man started shooting after Irene. I mean, Mrs. Martello.”

  Paul focused in on the stressed faces of the young couple. What a way to spend their evening.

  “Folks, thanks for calling it in. Mrs. Martello is safe, no doubt because you were so brave.” That was certainly true. He shuddered to think what would have happened if the couple hadn’t notified the police. He wouldn’t have known to head in this direction, and Irene...

  He took in a deep breath, noticing that everyone was staring at him. Now was not the time to think of Irene. Pushing thoughts of the lovely widow out of his mind, he recommitted himself to getting to the bottom of the case. As soon as humanly possible. With lots of Divine help.

  Lord, I place Irene, my officers, that child, and all involved in Your hands.

  “Do you know the people who live in that house?”

  Mrs. Zilcher bit her lip, then she ducked her head, as if ashamed. “I know it sounds bad, but we avoided them. They seemed, I don’t know... Honey?”

  She turned to her husband.

  “The first time we saw them, the younger man—not the one who fired the shots—yelled at our older son for playing too near their property. Now, Joel is only six. He wasn’t doing any harm, but that man scared him so much that ever since, we have just avoided them at all costs.”

  Paul nodded. It made sense. “And would I be correct to assume that your son never went near the house again?”

  “Chief, this has always been a very safe area. But in the past two months since they arrived, I don’t even let him go outside in the backyard alone. And it’s fenced in.”

  Smart move.

  “What about this afternoon? After the man pursued Mrs. Martello, did he come back?”

  “No. But within half an hour, all of them took off.” Mrs. Zilcher twisted her wedding ring. “I didn’t see them come out, but I heard lots of loud revving, and then the truck and the car both left. I haven’t seen them since.”

  The man who went after Irene must have warned them when he saw Paul’s police car approaching.

  Paul broke into their narrative. “Who is ‘them’? Can you describe the people you saw there? Anything you can remember will help. Age, gender, descriptions...anything at all.”

  “Well, let’s see,” Mrs. Zilcher ticked them off on her fingers. “There was that young guy. Just an average-looking man. Maybe in his early twenties? Blondish hair, collar length. Average build. Really, no one you’d look twice at if you saw him on the street or at the store. Then the big guy who shot at Irene, our service coordinator. He was a handsome enough man. Well groomed. But he looked so fierce. Probably late thirties, early forties. Not overweight, but big. Definitely over six feet. The last guy I never got a real good look at.” She turned to her husband.

  He shook his head. “I didn’t, either. He was usually pretty covered up. Hats, hooded sweatshirts, hunting coats. Got the impression that he tried to keep from being noticed. Only glimpsed him briefly when I did see him. And then I only really saw him from the back.”

  “Did you ever notice a young woman, maybe in her late teens or early twenties, at the house?”

  Both of them shook their heads.

  So how long had she been there? And was she one of them or another victim? Paul was starting to get a very ugly picture in his mind.

  “What about any children?”

  “Children?” Mrs. Zilcher blinked, startled. “No, I certainly never saw any children there.”

  Half an hour later, that picture was even darker.

  Going through the abandoned house was not something that Paul was likely to
forget. In the back bedroom, around where Irene would have seen the girl looking out the window, there was indeed dried blood on the floor. Recent blood. There was some on the wall, too. One spot looked like a handprint, tiny and low to the ground. Either from a very young person or someone who was very small. The team had already pulled fingerprints and would see if they could track down any matches. Hopefully, there would be something in their system that would connect to either Mary or the girl Irene had seen. Paul refused to think of what might have happened to her. She was gone, so there was a shot she was still alive, though his faith in finding her alive was fading. And it would continue to fade every hour that they couldn’t find her.

  His cell phone rang. It was Irene. His pulse spiked. Irene never called him.

  “Irene? Are you okay? Is someone hurt?”

  There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a breathy sound, almost a laugh but not quite. “Paul, I’m fine. You startled me. I’m not used to hearing you yell.”

  He had yelled, hadn’t he? Stretching his neck to the side to relieve his sudden tension, he tried again, keeping his voice calm.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. But you caught me at a tense moment.”

  “Oh. Is everything okay?” Her voice was reluctantly concerned.

  “With me, everything’s dandy. But this house, Irene, it’s bad. Really bad.” He shook his head, deciding not to say any more. She might have been married to a cop, but she still was a civilian. And he wanted to spare her from the rougher parts of his job. Not that she’d ever give him a chance to share anything more. He had more or less shattered any chance with her, now or in the future, when he’d abandoned her on that long-ago homecoming night. If only he could explain why...

  He scoffed silently. That would make her even more resistant, knowing his secrets. No, his secret scars would have to remain that way.

  “I just realized something, that’s why I called. When I was thinking about the girl in the house, the one who was watching me? Well, I just realized that she looked like there was something around her neck. And now, thinking about it, I believe they were bonnet straps. I think she was Amish, too, just like Mary.”