Amish Christmas Search Page 2

  The ride took longer than she remembered from her youth. The sound of a car’s engine caused her to turn. Headlights caught Lizzie in their glare. A siren screamed to life. She peddled into another alleyway, then along a dirt path and through a backyard, fearing what would happen if security found her.

  Andrew’s words played through her mind. “I’ll take care of both of them.”

  Turning onto a narrow road, she crossed Phillippi Creek. Pinecraft Park was on her right. She hurried along Fry Street, passed Good Avenue and turned onto a side street. In her mind’s eyes, she saw Emma flirting with a young Amish man at the park during one of the evening singings. Later that same night, she and Emma had giggled to themselves and dreamed of the future.

  The future was now, with all its terrible reality.

  Her shoulders and legs burned, but she needed to find her hiding place. She turned right, then left. Surely security wouldn’t look for her holed up in one of the houses usually rented to Amish families who bused south for a winter vacation before spring planting. This close to Christmas, a number of the small cottages sat dark and unoccupied.

  Gasping, she entered the backyard of the house her own family had often rented and latched the gate behind her. She shoved her bike behind a row of oleander shrubs, found the large garden stone exactly where it had been three years ago, lifted it off the ground and dug in the dirt. Her fingers found the key.

  Working quickly, she brushed off the sandy soil and hurried to the back door. Sirens drew closer. Her gut tightened.

  With trembling hands, Lizzie opened the screen door, stuck the key in the lock and turned the knob.

  “Who’s there?” A male voice, deep, demanding.

  Her heart stopped.

  She recognized the voice, but how—

  He stepped to the doorway. Even in the darkness, she could see his bulk and the outline of his angled jaw.

  The squeal of sirens neared. Lights flashed. A car turned at the corner and braked to a stop. Shouts sounded in the night.

  Fear lodged in her throat. She stared at the man in the doorway, her voice little more than a whisper when she spoke.

  “Help—help me, Caleb.”

  He hesitated for half a heartbeat, then grabbed her arm and yanked her inside. He closed the door, engaged the lock and pulled her tight against him, his lips to her ear.

  “Be silent, Lizzie, so they do not hear you.”

  Growing up, she had always felt safe with Caleb Zook, but tonight, with the security guards shouting outside, she doubted anyone—even the man who had planned to marry Emma Bontrager—could save her.

  * * *

  Caleb never thought he would see Lizzie again after he left the North Georgia mountains and turned his back on the Amish community.

  How had she found him? And why?

  A knock sounded at the front door.

  Knowing she was in danger, Caleb hurried her into a spare bedroom. “Do not make a sound.”

  He ruffled his hair, untucked his white shirt, lowered one suspender over his arm and kicked off his shoes.

  The knock came again, followed by an insistent pounding that nearly shook the house.

  “Patience,” Caleb grumbled under his breath.

  He inched the door open and feigned a yawn. “Yah?”

  “We’re looking for a woman on a bicycle who may have entered this area. Five-five, dark hair, brown eyes.” The guy held up his cell.

  Lizzie stared back at Caleb from the screen on the man’s phone. She appeared to be running from a stately home and looked scared.

  Caleb scrubbed his hand over his face and chuckled as he pointed to the picture. “The only place I would have seen this pretty woman is in my dreams.”

  “Look, buddy. Don’t play games with me.”

  “I am not playing, but I am hoping to return to my bed as soon as possible.”

  “What about your neighbors? No one’s answering their doors.”

  “It is December, yah? Pinecraft will draw more visitors after Christmas.”

  “Yet you’re here,” the guy sneered.

  “I work in the area.”

  “If you see this woman—” the guy pointed again to Lizzie’s picture, then jammed a business card into Caleb’s hand “—call my number.”

  Estate Security.

  “She has done something wrong?” Caleb asked.

  “You got that right. Happened little over an hour ago. Stabbed a guy in the neck and forced him to open his safe.”

  “She does not sound like someone from Pinecraft. Most people in this neighborhood are peace-loving Amish.”

  “Amish or Englisch,” the guy snarled. “We need to find her. Watch your back. She’s dangerous.”

  The guard hurried on to the next house. Caleb eyed the four men, wearing khaki slacks and navy shirts, who continued to knock on doors. Eventually, they headed back to their car. As they drove away, Caleb stepped into the cottage and locked the door behind him.

  Hearing footsteps, he turned to see Lizzie in the hallway, her face pale, her lips drawn.

  “Why did you come here?” he demanded.

  “I... I never thought the house would be rented this close to Christmas.”

  Caleb pulled in a deep breath, checked that the curtains were drawn and then flipped on a small light. He glanced at the uniform she wore. His chest tightened.

  Stepping closer, he pointed to the streaks of blood that covered her apron. “Are you hurt?”

  She glanced down and groaned. Her left hand reached for a nearby chair as if to steady herself. “Someone grabbed me. I had to protect myself.”

  Pulling in a deep breath, she untied her apron, dropped it into the trash can near the kitchen sink and washed her hands over and over again as if trying to cleanse herself from what had happened.

  When she turned back to him, her eyes were wide, her mouth drawn. “I need to stay here tonight, Caleb. I’ll leave in the morning.”

  Growing up in the North Georgia mountains, Lizzie had been energetic with an adventurous spirit. As the years passed, she had become more levelheaded and deliberate in her actions. Tonight was different. Without a shadow of a doubt, she was in danger and unable to think beyond the moment.

  He lowered his voice. “Where will you go?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not sure, Caleb, but I do not want to cause any more problems. I’ve already hurt you enough.”

  Hurt me? He wanted to ask what she meant, but he saw the raw emotion in her gaze and the way her shoulders slumped with fatigue. He would brew a pot of coffee and feed her, as well as provide lodging for the night. Or as long as she needed refuge.

  As much as he did not want to get involved, he could not stand by and do nothing to help Lizzie. He owed her that much. The three of them—he and Lizzie and Emma Bontrager—had been close friends who explored the hillsides together, fished in the river and often speculated about the future. Emma had been the flirt who seemed confident of his attention, while Lizzie had grown reserved and careful not to show her feelings as they aged. Especially when Emma was in one of her moods. Caleb appreciated the thoughtful way Lizzie approached life, but their friendship had been torn apart the night Emma went missing.

  For the last three years, Caleb had tried to forget his own role in Emma’s disappearance. The day she had gone missing, she had asked when they would marry. Her brazenness had rocked him to the core, especially since he had done nothing to make her think he cared for her in a romantic way. Unsettled by her remark, he had explained that marriage wasn’t in their future. Her shocked expression and the way she had turned away from him in a huff was proof enough that Emma had gone to the beach on the rebound, in hopes Caleb would reconsider his plans for the future. All this time, he had tried to bury his own guilt in throwing her off balance that day. How ironic that now, because of Lizzie, he
was once again face-to-face with the past.

  The Englisch said Gott had a sense of humor, but Caleb was not laughing.

  TWO

  The Pinecraft cottage brought back visions of Lizzie’s family gathered around the kitchen table where she now sat. The memories cut into her heart and made what she had just endured seem even more surreal.

  Caleb placed a mug of coffee on the table in front of her. Inhaling the aroma of the fresh ground beans, she wrapped her hand around the warm mug and took a sip of the rich brew.

  “Good coffee.” Her voice sounded drained of emotion even to her own ears, as if she had spent her last bit of energy and had nothing else to give.

  Tall and muscular, Caleb stood with his back to the counter and watched her, his dark brown eyes filled with questions. He wanted answers that she would provide as soon as her trembling eased and she could think rationally again.

  Hoping to bide her time, she glanced at the electric coffee maker and the overhead kitchen lighting. “You are not living Amish?”

  “The house is wired with electricity. I use the appliances when I am here.”

  He took a swig of coffee, then pulled cold cuts and cheese from the refrigerator and placed them on the table, along with a loaf of whole wheat bread and plates and knives from the cabinet.

  “You look hungry,” he said as if to explain his actions.

  She offered him a weak smile. “How does hungry look?”

  “Pale and drawn, with sad eyes edged in fright.”

  Lizzie sipped the coffee and nodded. “I admit being frightened.”

  “You want to tell me what happened?”

  She explained about working for Thad Thompson in hopes of learning more about his son, Andrew. Then, pausing for a moment, she pulled in a shallow breath and placed the mug on the table.

  “The last time I saw Emma, she had climbed into a small motorboat with Andrew headed to the Thompsons’ yacht docked in a nearby marina. Andrew had been drinking, and I tried to convince Emma not to go with him, but I couldn’t dissuade her from seeing the yacht firsthand. I... I waited on the beach until the first light of dawn played over the horizon, but Emma never returned.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  Buoyed by the concern she saw in his gaze, she gobbled down half a sandwich and then explained about Andrew’s attack this evening and her need to flee on her bike. “Here’s the surprise I had stopped believing.”

  She took her time forming the words she knew would take Caleb aback. “Andrew and his father said that Emma—”

  She paused for a long moment.

  “They said Emma is still alive.”

  His eyes widened ever so slightly. He pulled air through his front teeth and shook his head. “If she is alive, then where has she been all this time?”

  “In one of the nursing homes Mr. Thompson owns somewhere in the Southeast. If I learn its location, I can find her.”

  “You probably know Thad Thompson plans to run for the senate.”

  She nodded. “Which is why they want Emma out of the picture.”

  “What?”

  “From what I overheard, Andrew beat her that night and severely injured her. Since then, she has been holed up in a care facility. Now her memory is returning. If she recalls what happened, she can tell the police. Mr. Thompson doesn’t want anything to ruin his chances of running for office. The easiest way to ensure she does not cause problems is to do away with her.”

  Caleb swallowed hard.

  “Andrew said he will put an end to the problem,” Lizzie continued. “Which means they plan to kill her. That’s why I have to find Emma.”

  “You could get hurt, Lizzie. Go home to Amish Mountain.”

  “I can’t go back knowing she’s alive.” She held up her hand, palm out. “And you can’t change my mind, Caleb. I’m not that young naive girl who hung around you and Emma.”

  “We were all friends.”

  “I was a third wheel as the Englisch say, like the adult tricycles the Amish ride here in Pinecraft. I apologize for getting in the way. If I had not been in the picture, Emma never would have gone to the beach that night.”

  The truth of her words cut into her anew. Lizzie had been the one who first noticed Andrew at the beach earlier in the day. Believing Caleb and Emma would soon be wed, and emboldened by her own desire to find love, Lizzie had flirted brazenly with the handsome rich boy, never realizing how her playful dalliance would end.

  “Do not bring guilt upon yourself that is unwarranted, Lizzie. You didn’t force Emma to sneak out that night.”

  “She never would have gone alone, Caleb. I knew you planned to marry. I should have been the voice of reason and stopped her from such foolishness. My father said I was to blame for her disappearance.”

  “Your father places Emma’s wrongdoing on your shoulders, yet we both know Emma wanted more than living on a farm and raising a family. At least she thought she did.”

  Lizzie saw the hurt in his eyes. “She loved you, Caleb, just as you loved her. Foolish as it sounds, Emma wanted to have fun one last time. Pinecraft is like that. A place to be carefree and dig your toes in the sand. To do things that would not be allowed at home.”

  He bristled. “Like sneaking out of the house to meet a young man on the beach.”

  “Emma did nothing wrong.”

  “If not, then why did you leave Amish Mountain?”

  “And why did you come back to Pinecraft?” she countered. “We both have struggled with Emma’s disappearance. The only way I can find peace is to find her.”

  Lizzie’s cell rang. She dug it out of her pocket and checked the screen. “Nadine Cavanaugh. She’s Mr. Thompson’s full-time housekeeper.”

  “Don’t tell her where you are,” Caleb warned.

  She nodded and lifted the phone to her ear. “Did you get home safely, Nadine?”

  “Something’s going on.” The woman’s voice was tight with emotion. “Security was here. They wanted to know where to find you.”

  Lizzie’s head throbbed. “Did they tell you what happened?”

  “They claimed you attacked Mr. Thompson and stole from him. I said they were looking for the wrong person. Someone else did that, not you. Then they showed me a picture from the security tape. You were running out of the house. Another picture was of the safe in Mr. Thompson’s office.”

  “His safe?”

  “They said you stole cash from the safe.”

  Lizzie’s stomach roiled. “You’ve got to believe me, Nadine, I did not steal anything.”

  “I know you’re not a thief, Elizabeth, but you are in trouble.”

  “I need your help. There’s an envelope on Mr. Thompson’s desk. It’s from a nursing home.”

  “You want me to snoop around his office?”

  “Take a picture of the return address and send it to my phone.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Please, Nadine.”

  “They fired me, Elizabeth. Said I couldn’t come back to work. I don’t know what I’m gonna do this close to Christmas. I told them my husband’s outta work and we’ve got the kids.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m sorry too. Now I’m gonna hang up and pretend I never called you. Take care of yourself, Elizabeth. My advice is to leave town and don’t ever come back.”

  The phone disconnected.

  Lizzie dropped her cell onto the table and lowered her head into her hands. Her world was spinning out of control, and Nadine was right. She needed to get out of town before she got into more trouble.

  * * *

  Early the next morning, Caleb tapped on the bedroom door. “Lizzie?”

  “Just a minute.” Her weak response floated through the closed doorway. Water ran in the adjoining bathroom before footsteps sounded, crossing
the room.

  The door opened and he was taken aback by her appearance. Lizzie’s hair was damp and slightly disheveled and her face drawn. Dark rings circled her eyes so that he wondered if she had slept at all. Always slender, she looked even more so this morning as if a strong wind would blow her away.

  “Sorry I woke you, but there’s something I want you to see.”

  She followed him to the kitchen table where a newspaper lay open.

  He tapped the paper. “Earlier this morning, I hurried to the store to grab some pastries for breakfast and a newspaper.”

  Stepping closer, she peered at the newsprint. “The Herald-Tribune?”

  “Have you been following the recent editorials?”

  She shook her head. “Is there something about last night?”

  “More or less.” Caleb pointed to an article. “Jeb Grayson is a freelance journalist I read at times. Ever since word circulated that Mr. Thompson may run for the senate, Grayson’s been posing questions about his candidacy. Most folks believe Thompson is a shoo-in. He has money and backing, only Grayson says people need to take a closer look.”

  “After what happened last night, I agree with the journalist.”

  “Today’s piece mentions Thompson’s adoptive son.”

  “Andrew?”

  Caleb nodded. “Seems the kid was a problem in his high school years. According to Grayson, Thad Thompson’s money got Andrew out of a lot of scrapes.”

  “And law enforcement gave the kid a pass?” she asked.

  “Or received a little something for their lack of interest in Andrew’s antics. I emailed Jeb Grayson this morning and said a friend and I wanted to talk to him about the Thompson family. I explained that we had information he might find interesting and told him to contact me.”

  Caleb checked his phone, then retrieved a mug from the cabinet, poured coffee and handed it to her. “Pastries are on the counter by the stove. Help yourself.”

  “Danki.”