Amish Country Undercover Page 16

  “Why did you try to smother me at the hospital if you needed me to steal this horse?”

  “Smother you? What are you talking about?” Edmund squinted up at her. “I never...” He glanced at the stable’s closed double doors. In the next second, he reached up and dragged her off the horse, then grasped Grace’s wrist and entwined the leather strap around it. “Change of plans for now. Back to the house.”

  “Why?”

  “Seems I have a traitor in my midst, and you’re worth more alive to me than dead.”

  “Who wants me dead?” Grace asked, as Edmund grabbed her upper arm and pulled her out the door to go back up the hill to the house.

  “Someone you trusted too much. And apparently, so did I.”

  SEVENTEEN

  “There’s no one around,” Jack said, as he moved to the front of the sheriff’s cruiser and waited for Hank. “This is the second time I’ve seen the place empty like this. I didn’t like it the first time, and I don’t like it now. But if my memory serves me right, I’ll find the man I’m looking for somewhere around here.”

  “After the track accident, maybe Barone gave the crew time off until the operation is cleared of wrongdoing. I’m thinking you’ll not find anyone. Why, exactly, do you think Grace is here?”

  “I’m pretty sure the guy who drugged and stuffed me in the morgue this morning is someone I’ve seen here. I want to speak to the owner about him.” Jack scanned the area. The big house on the hill drew his attention. “Ever been up there?” He pointed to it.

  “Not as much as I used to, but sure. Ed Senior passed away a year ago and Edmund got permission from the attorney to stay there until the estate is worked out.”

  For now, Jack headed toward the stable, with the local lawman beside him.

  Sheriff Maddox drew his gun.

  Jack did the same.

  The sheriff shook his head. “I would have never known. That’s some cover you’ve got. But it’s blown now, so why are you still dressed like an Amish person?”

  “Maybe because the real cover was the FBI agent, and I just didn’t realize it.” The words came swift and clear, and in an instant, his heart knew it was true. He would always be Amish.

  “Then lose the gun,” Hank said, with a daring look in his eyes.

  Jack froze at the idea. He stared down at the weapon in his hand that had been an extension of himself for so long. He might think he would always be Amish, but he would also be a fighter for those who needed help.

  And Grace needed the FBI man right now.

  Hank extended his hand. “For once, let me be the law around here.”

  Jack heard what the sheriff wasn’t saying, when the man had every right to complain. Jack had jurisdiction over the stolen and transported horses, but the local law enforcement also had responsibilities to keep the peace. In Jack’s quest for justice, he had overstepped his boundaries. “I apologize. Perhaps the people I care about most in this life wouldn’t be hurt if I had brought you in. But until they are all safe and sound, I’ll keep my sidearm at the ready.”

  Sheriff Maddox gave him a warning look. “Fine, but you’ll follow my orders.”

  “Lead the way, Sheriff.”

  Jack accepted that this would be the last time he’d depend on his weapon. From here on out, he would return to the simple life of no violence. There would be no going back once he made this decision. The Amish way of life would come first forever. His only reliance would be on God and his community.

  Hank eyed Jack as they approached the stable. He said warily, “This is not just another case for you, is it?”

  Jack tore his gaze from his gun to look the sheriff in the eye. “This stopped being a case for me the day you found Benjamin in town. Somehow it became personal.”

  “That can be dangerous in this line of work, but I understand. You can’t help how your heart will react.”

  Jack thought of the bishop’s words. “Ya, I once followed my head, but this time I’m going to follow my heart.”

  When they reached the stable and stood at the door, Hank put a hand on Jack’s arm. “I’ll go in first to check things out. Follow close behind.”

  Jack adhered to the order and let him take the lead. Up until this point, Jack had handled things on his own, but now he would work with the sheriff.

  Hank pressed the handle to open the stable door, but before he could pull them wide, the two wooden panels came bursting out at them. The high-pitched whinny of a horse on her hind legs pushed them back and had them lifting their arms in protection. The animal landed on her front hooves and bolted out to freedom. She galloped past them at full force and across the parking lot, not stopping until she came to a fence. Her sleek muscles rippled and twitched, and her tail swung wildly.

  After taking a moment to catch their breaths, Hank looked at Jack and ushered him in silently. A horse loose in the stable set the stage for the unexpected inside. They could be walking into the aftermath of a horrid scene.

  Please, Gött, let me find Grace alive, Jack prayed silently. The idea of losing her now, after finding his way back to his place in the Amish community, caused his stomach to clench. Physical pain shuddered through him, and he gripped at his left suspender over the location of his thudding heart.

  The two men stepped inside and stood still, listening for any sounds of another person around. Other than a few horses rustling or huffing, no other noise was audible. Hank led the way down one aisle, each of them peering over the top of stalls, then down another. They returned to the entrance and checked the office.

  “No one’s here,” Jack said, stepping from the small room, which held a few filing cabinets and a desk with a bunch of horse claims covering it. “I’d like to check the house.”

  Hank nodded. “We’ll drive up.”

  The two of them went back to the cruiser and headed up the driveway to the sprawling house on the hill. As they turned the final bend and approached the side garages, Jack noticed one of them was open. The black sports car he had seen before was parked in the bay. “It looks like the owner is home.”

  They parked and exited the cruiser and went in through the garage. As Jack passed the sports car, he glanced inside and halted.

  “Hold up,” he said, and opened the driver’s door. Pulling his sleeve over his hand, he reached across to the passenger seat and pulled out a long-haired black wig made from the tail of a horse. It was still fashioned into a ponytail from early that morning, when Jack had seen it last. Once again, his gut twisted. “Grace is here. Edmund Barone is our kidnapper, if not shooter and horse thief. I knew I’d seen his face around here.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “The man who used a tranquilizer on me was wearing this wig.” He lifted it for the sheriff to see.

  “Leave it there. We’ll come back for it.”

  “Shouldn’t you call for backup?”

  “My backup is watching over your boss,” Hank pointed out. “We’re a small office. I’m going in. Stay close to me.”

  Jack dropped the wig back inside the car and shut the door with a soft click. He followed Sheriff Maddox up to the inside door. It opened without any problems into a large mudroom.

  “County Sheriff’s Office,” Hank yelled. “We’re coming in!”

  Once inside, they made their way into a large kitchen and dining room. With each step across gleaming hardwood floors, Jack sensed they were being watched. He glanced toward the corners for surveillance, but if it was there, he couldn’t see any without closer inspection.

  Jack ran his finger across the dining room table.

  Dusty.

  The place was beautiful, but he had to figure there was a whole crew for such a large spread. The fact that no one was around, and dust was allowed to settle on the sparse furnishings, told Jack the help had been let go.

  He passed by sets of silv
erware rolled up in red cloth napkins that were placed haphazardly on a sideboard. It was as though someone had been putting them together one day and just stopped what they were doing and walked out. Judging by the dust on them, it was a while ago.

  He moved across the room to another door. Staying off to one side, he carefully peered into the next room without making himself a target.

  An enormous front hall with a chandelier stood empty of any furnishings. Two winding staircases on either side of the huge room extended up to a second floor with a circular railing between them. Jack retreated into the dining room, thinking there were too many places for someone to hide up there. Whether Hank wanted to admit it or not, they needed backup.

  Jack glanced back, shaking his head about stepping out into the front hall, but Hank seemed to be busy rearranging the rolled silverware. Clearly, now was not the time. Was the man that fastidious? He waved the sheriff over, but as Hank approached, Jack noticed the napkins had been piled in a pyramid formation. He narrowed his eyes, trying to remember where he had seen such a thing before.

  “I’ll go first,” Hank whispered loudly. “Stick close behind me.”

  Jack nodded, but his focus returned to the napkins. They were red, not yellow like the...corn.

  He looked to the back of Hank’s head as the man turned the corner into the large open room. The sheriff expected him to follow, but Jack stayed still as his brain flipped over the information he’d just remembered.

  Hank had been the one arranging the corn into a pyramid that day at the Miller place. Which meant he hadn’t picked Benjamin up in town as he had said.

  Hank had been in the house with Benjamin.

  And now he was leading Jack into the line of fire.

  Just as Hank turned the corner and stepped out of sight, a deep-voiced shout came from outside the front of the house. “Are you in there, Grace?”

  Jack’s adrenaline spiked. “Benjamin?” he whispered, a feeling of dread filling him.

  “No, Daed! It’s a trap! Run!” Grace’s voice echoed through the cavernous house, and the last word became muffled. She screamed through whatever was covering her mouth, then whimpered.

  Jack didn’t believe things could get any worse. Did he go to Benjamin? Did he run into the hall for Grace?

  He had no choice but to go out there and help her. She and her daed would not survive if he didn’t.

  “What is it you want, Edmund?” Jack called, leaning against the wall behind him.

  “Jack!” Grace cried but was quickly muffled once more. The desperation in her voice cut him to the quick.

  He spoke out again, this time tilting his head out to glance around the front hall. “Do you want time to escape and go free from prosecution? You can have it. Just release the girl to her father. Let them walk out of here. You don’t want them. They were just a means to an end to help you steal some horses. You can’t use them anymore. So let them go.”

  Please.

  “It’s not that simple,” a voice called from somewhere above him. “You see, my father left this place to my sister, Amelia Miller, which means Grace is in line to inherit it. All of it. I can’t let that happen.”

  Jack sighed and leaned back again.

  Things had just gotten worse.

  EIGHTEEN

  Grace struggled as Edmund held her in the upstairs hall with his hand over her mouth. From there, she could see her father through the large window. He stood on the patio with his shotgun in his hands. She could barely believe her eyes. After all his talk of turning the other cheek, he had come out to rescue her with a weapon. With her hands tied behind her with the riding crop Edmund had taken from the barn, she couldn’t reach out to defend herself. But with her daed and Jack here, maybe there was still hope.

  Or she could lose the two men she loved most in this world.

  Edmund held her tightly, almost crushing the air from her lungs. The injury to her neck caused her vision to blur for a moment, but then the pain subsided. After several slow breaths her eyes cleared.

  Grace struggled to free herself from Edmund’s hold. She noticed that something on the lower floor held his attention. A glance through the spokes of the railing showed Sheriff Maddox entering the hall, gripping his gun.

  A burst of hope filled Grace. Jack had brought the sheriff. She wanted to yell for Hank to see Edmund hiding above him at the top of the stairs. Then she noticed Jack was following the sheriff, close behind. He, too, had his gun drawn.

  But he was pointing it at Hank.

  No! her mind screamed. They must not see Edmund behind the columns, or know he was up here. Muffled as she was, she deliberately stumbled, making as much noise as she could. It was enough to make the men turn their weapons her way.

  The next moment she felt like a horse had kicked her in her stomach. A shot rang out through the house, and Grace was thrown back against the wall. Seconds ticked by before her lungs refilled, and she realized she was free from Edmund’s grasp. The riding crop he’d bound her with had fallen to the floor.

  “Run,” a gurgling voice whispered in her ear. Edmund.

  Grace faced him and saw that he’d been shot. A tussle was happening downstairs, but all Grace could focus on was Edmund’s moving lips.

  “Hank wants you dead. He was engaged to your mother, but she left him for your father... Been waiting...a long time for...payback.”

  With that he took a final breath and let it slip out as he fell to the floor.

  Grace shrank away from Edmund’s dead body and processed all he’d told her.

  Hank was the one who tried to kill her. And would again. That was why he had said she was never supposed to be born in the first place. Grace’s fingers wrapped around the handle of the riding crop. But her father’s words repeated in her mind.

  No fight.

  Before she could decide what to do, she heard Jack shout from below. “Outen the light,” he cried. She looked down and saw him take another swing at the sheriff.

  His order stumped her. The only lights were the four bulbs in the chandelier hanging over the enormous entrance hall.

  The front door burst open wide and Benjamin stood there with the darkening sky behind him.

  Turning toward the silhouette, Hank lifted his gun and pointed it at her daed. She shivered at the sight of the loaded weapon aimed at him. Her voice caught in her throat, and she couldn’t utter a warning. Breath stalled in her chest as she braced for a gunshot.

  Instead, she heard Sheriff Maddox’s evil snort.

  “On second thought, I’ll let you watch your daughter die first. I wish you could have seen Amelia take her last breath. But this will work, too.”

  In the next second, Hank turned, aimed the gun at her and pulled the trigger.

  Grace screamed, but quickly realized he’d missed. He shot again, and she pressed back against the wall to avoid taking the bullet.

  She heard Jack shout something she couldn’t make out for the fear pounding in her head, then she leaned forward to see the two lawmen on the floor, still fighting.

  “Outen the light!” Jack shouted again. But this time, she understood.

  “Ya, ich verschteh.” She understood perfectly. She picked up the riding crop and flicked it at the chandelier straight ahead of her. It smashed a lightbulb and wrapped a few times around one of the ornate branches. She yanked it back, but it snagged and turned the whole chandelier to the left. Grace pulled again, and finally it released.

  She swung the riding crop again, aiming for another light and smashing it the same way. One by one, all four bulbs were extinguished, finally plunging the space into darkness.

  Grace turned and crawled to the opposite staircase. Jack fighting Hank for the gun filled the hall with the sounds of grunts and smacks. Grace cringed at each one as, pressing herself to the railing, she slipped down the stairs toward the front door and h
er daed.

  At the base of the stairs, she could make out the men’s silhouettes in the moonlight cascading through the windows. She reached Benjamin and moved him toward the wall behind her so they could slide by Jack and Hank.

  The door beckoned, only a few feet away. She grasped the cotton fabric of her father’s shirt and pulled him with her, but just as she reached the door and curled her hand around the knob a bang close to her ear jolted her back and away. Grace fell to the floor, her head ringing from the sound. Slowly, she turned to find her daed, but he wasn’t beside her anymore. She hoped he hadn’t been hit.

  Just as she spotted him a loud creak echoed through the room, then everyone stilled, even the two men fighting. Grace held her breath for a moment of uncertainty.

  Her body ached.

  Her ears questioned the eerie and strange creaking sound.

  And time stood still...

  Grace felt the rush of wind before she heard the crash. It was warning enough for her to lift her arm and instinctively shield her face. The sound of millions of glass fragments splintering and flying through the air filled the space, and Grace knew instantly the chandelier had come falling down on them.

  She knew without moving that many of those glass pieces were embedded in her clothing and even in her skin. She hoped her father, closer to a wall, had escaped the worst of it. It was the deathly silence from the middle of the room that scared her the most.

  Jack.

  Grace heard a cry and quickly realized it had slipped from her own lips. Covering her trembling mouth, she took a step toward the center of the room.

  Glass crackled beneath her boots, the only sound. “Jack? Are you there?” Hearing no response, she stepped back to her father. “Komm,” she instructed him, and together they exited the house. She placed him behind one of the large planters. “Sit and wait for me. I have to go help Jack.”