Amish Christmas Abduction

“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.”

“What else was she wearing?”

“I couldn’t tell. She was mostly out of view. I’m sorry. I’m probably not much help.” Her voice was growing embarrassed.

“No, actually, you are. I have more information than I did before—that’s always a good thing.”

So now they needed to search for a missing child and a missing girl. They would start searching in the local Amish communities. If they didn’t succeed there, then they would widen their search.

“Thanks, Irene. I mean it. Every detail helps.”

“How’s Mary doing?”

His heart softened. Irene, always thinking about the plight of others. She’d always been that way. “I left her with Sergeant Zee.”

“Did she go quietly?”

“Yeah, but that was probably because she was asleep.”

“Paul!”

He sighed, rolling his eyes. She couldn’t see him, after all. “I will check on her first thing in the morning. Promise.”

After disconnecting the call, he went to the room where Olsen was taking pictures.

“What did you want to see me about, Olsen?”

“Look at all this stuff, Chief. What do you make of it?”

There was a trunk full of children’s clothes in various sizes and colors. All of them showed signs of wear. And there was a pair of Amish breeches on top. Beside the trunk, there was a bottle, still half-full, and a dirty sippy cup.

“Mary wasn’t the only child these people have taken, is my guess. Maybe they still have one or two of them. What they were planning to do with them, I don’t know. But we need to find them. Fast.”

Before any more children were taken. Or worse.

* * *

Irene couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so tired. Last night, she had tossed and turned. When she had finally fallen into a restless sleep, it was to be disturbed in her dreams by images of being chased at gunpoint. She finally gave up. It was only quarter after six, but she knew trying to fall back to sleep was hopeless. Throwing back the covers, she padded to the boys’ bedroom and peeked in. Both were still sound asleep. She sighed, aching with tenderness at the sight of the peaceful children.

Since the peace wouldn’t last, she might as well get ready for the day. She dressed in casual jeans and an emerald green turtleneck sweater. She lugged out her workbag, shaking off the memories.

Pulling out her laptop, she spent some time finishing an evaluation report. By the time it was completed, she could hear the boys arguing in the kitchen. They were up early. Normally, the thought of facing their fighting at seven o’clock on a Saturday morning would annoy her. The memory of the night before washed away any trace of aggravation. She was here, safe, with her kids. That was a lot to be grateful for.

She entered the kitchen, kissed her boys and ruffled their hair as she walked past. Their dog, Izzy, was peacefully snoozing under the table.

“Hi, Mommy!” Matthew peeked up at her with his ragged grin, his front teeth missing. “Can we have waffles for breakfast?”

That was Matthew. His stomach always came first.

“Waffles sound good to me. AJ?”

Her older son peered at her through his new glasses. My, he was looking so grown-up. When had her baby become such a big boy?

Tony would have loved this.

“Waffles are yummy. Can we set up the tree today?”

Ugh. The Christmas tree. One more thing she didn’t want to face. But at least she could give her children the fun parts of Christmas.

She made them waffles, and then the boys helped her drag out the artificial tree and ornaments. She sat down in the center of the living room floor to sort the ornaments, AJ by her side. As she was unraveling the lights, Matthew stood at the window, his face intent. She frowned when she noted him standing on his tiptoes, straining to see something.

“Matthew, why are you staring out the window?”

“I’m watching the man, Mommy.”

She set aside the strand of lights in her hands, unease dancing down her spine. It could be nothing, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

“What man, darling?” Calm. Stay calm. The last thing they need is for you to overreact.

“That man across the street.” Matthew hadn’t turned around, still intent on the stranger.

“Matthew, come away from the window.” How she was able to keep from raising her voice she’d never know.

Something in her tone must have said she meant business, though, because Matthew left his place and skittered down on the floor beside her, his small face pale. The freckles on his cheeks stood out.

“Mommy, I’m scared.”

Her poor baby.

“It’s okay, love, I’m going to call Chief Paul. He’ll know what to do.”

Crawling over to the end table, she grabbed her phone and dialed Paul’s number with shaking fingers. It wasn’t until the phone started ringing that she wondered why she’d instinctively called him and not Jace. Because Paul helped her last night? Of course that was why. She moved to the window and peered out, taking care to keep out of sight. There parked on the street across from her was a dark sedan. Was that the one that had been sitting at the bearded man’s house?

“Hello.”

Paul’s deep drawl sent a shiver down her spine. She scolded herself. She didn’t have time for that. Sure, he was strong and was well respected in LaMar Pond, but he was hiding something. She was certain. Only, right now, it didn’t seem to matter.

“Paul,” she whispered. “There’s a man sitting in his car outside my house. He’s watching us. And I can’t be sure, but it may be one of the people from that house. The car looks familiar.”

“Irene, are the boys with you?” His voice had lost all trace of the lazy, relaxed drawl. Its intensity communicated his concern over the phone.

“Yes, we are all here.”

“Okay, this is what I want you to do. Make sure the doors are locked. And keep away from the windows. Whatever you do, do not answer the door unless it’s me or Jace. I’m going to call him right now. He’s closer to your house. I will be over as soon as I can.”

Click.

She slid the phone back into her pocket and looked at the two frightened faces before her.

“Boys, let’s go back to the kitchen.”

“Aren’t we setting up the tree?” AJ asked, disappointment on his face.

Matthew didn’t argue. He was already halfway there.

“We’ll make Christmas cookies first,” Irene declared, coming up with an impromptu diversion. Both faces brightened.

Her phone rang again. Paul.

“Jace is on his way, too. Sit tight, Irene. We’ll be there ASAP.”

Her nerves were shot by the time Jace arrived. She saw his car pull around the corner from the kitchen window. Immediately, an engine revved. She heard tires squeal as a car raced in the opposite direction. The watcher had left. The cruiser’s lights burst into a swirl of blue and red as Jace followed in pursuit.

Less than five minutes later, someone pounded on her front door. Yelping, she dropped the bowl of icing she’d just whipped together. The silver bowl bounced, flinging white icing on the cupboard doors and all over her blue jeans.

“Irene? It’s me. Paul.”

Paul. She placed a hand over her pounding heart and closed her eyes, fighting the urge to wilt against the countertops.

“Mommy, Chief Paul is here.” AJ frowned as the chief called out again. “Should I let him in?”

“No! No, I will do it. You boys stay here and wipe up this mess. Please.”

They looked less than thrilled, but both nodded. She had expected some protest. Especially from AJ. That neither boy offered even a token resistance told her that they had sensed the seriousness of the situation.

She moved to the door and opened it. She came face-to-face with Paul, his hand raised to knock again. Patent relief flashed across his face as he saw her. His gaze moved over her, checking for injury or signs of distress. She knew the moment he spotted the icing by the way his mouth curled up at the sides. Not exactly a grin, but she could tell he was amused.

Only for a moment, however. The smile vanished so fast she might have imagined it.

“Jace went after the guy,” she informed him.

He nodded. “Yeah, he almost caught him, too. The guy got out and took off running across the interstate. Unfortunately, Jace didn’t get a good look at him. The Zilchers are coming in to look through the data files. I think you should do that, too. Immediately, if not sooner. In the meantime, Jace is going to go over the car the guy abandoned. See what he can get from it.”

There was no way she could refuse. If this was related to what had happened the day before, they had found out where she lived. The situation was as serious and urgent as it could get. “My kids...”

Paul laid a hand on her shoulder. She shivered. The warmth of his hand spread out. Not now. This was not a good idea. She moved back.

“Take them to your mom’s house. Jace already called her.”

She had no choice. Reluctantly, she agreed. The reluctance was partially because she didn’t want to be separated from them right now. And, she admitted to herself, partly because she didn’t like this awareness of Paul that seemed to be returning. The thought of spending more time alone with him was unsettling. She wasn’t a high school girl anymore—what was wrong with her?

As she bundled them up for the trip to her mother’s, she couldn’t stop the dread quivering in her belly. She had to work hard to keep her apprehension from showing on her face. Kids were sensitive. They would pick up on her disquiet in a heartbeat.

But her mother’s heart wouldn’t let it go.

“Paul,” she began as she made her way back to the living room with two boys wrapped up tight in their winter gear. She stopped. Paul was no longer alone. Jace and Miles were there, deep in conversation. The men stopped talking when she appeared.

Paul nodded at the other two men and approached Irene and the boys. “Hey, guys. How would you like a ride to your grandma’s in a police car?” He grinned at the boys like he was suggesting an adventure, rather than moving to get them out of harm’s way. “Sergeant Olsen was wanting to visit your gran. Think she’ll have cookies he can swipe?”

AJ nodded, his face serious. “Yeah, Granny always has cookies. But he better ask first.”

“And say please,” Matthew added.

“I’m sure he will.” Paul patted their heads affectionately.

His eyes, though, when he glanced back at Irene, were completely devoid of humor.

He’s as worried as I am.

That scared her most of all.

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