Only Gott knew her secret. For some reason, it played heavily on her mind today. Serenity Miller wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was because of the gusty wind that continuously picked up speed and its low, eerie whistle as it met the cracks in her tall, old barn in Arthur, Illinois.
Maybe it was due to the strong flashes of bright lightning that made loud crackling noises. Or the root of her uneasiness could have something to do with the unique smell of rain and damp air—nature’s obvious signals that a May downpour would start any second.
Angel clomped his hooves and unleashed a loud, desperate-sounding whinny. “It’s okay,” she assured him.
She clenched her jaw. Something’s wrong. Storms never bother him. A bright flash of lightning bolted through the small windows and quickly reminded her of her purpose. Get to work. Obviously, there’s not much time. Finish securing the barn and ensure that Angel has enough food, water, and fresh bedding to make it through the night. Close up the chicken coop. Get the clothes off the line and take them inside.
Her neck tensed. While Serenity checked the thick tank hose, which brought in water from the backyard well, Angel’s whinnies and clomping became louder and more desperate.
Serenity reached inside the opened gunny bag, gripped the metal handle of her scoop, and retrieved a generous helping of oat mix. As sweat trickled down her chest, she emptied the grain into a plastic bucket and repeated her action three times until the bucket was nearly full.
Wasting no time, she stepped quickly to the stall’s wooden feeder where her beloved standardbred hovered. With one swift motion, Serenity lifted her bucket and dumped its contents into the trough.
Satisfied that there was plenty of clean straw, she shifted her focus to the larger and deeper wooden trough. When she saw that it contained a sufficient amount of hay, she nodded in satisfaction. The fresh batch, baled just a few weeks ago, had come from the nearby alfalfa field. She breathed in the pleasant, light scent.
Her peripheral vision caught a large black rat scurrying across the cement floor and disappearing into a crack at the side wall. She frowned. That issue will have to wait.
The dim light suddenly darkened a notch, and Serenity reached for the portable, battery-powered lantern, which hung on a hook on the wall, and flipped on the switch.
A strong bolt of lightning illuminated the space on the floor around her, quickly reminding her of her purpose and the short time frame she most likely had to get things done. Oddly, again, her secret drifted back into her thoughts. Thunder crackled. Angel let out an ear-piercing neigh. The wind whistled loudly as it hit the old, large structure. A strong gust coming in through the open entrance stirred straw dust. She closed her eyes a moment to allow them to tear.
I’ve got to finish up and get to my house. She looked down at her scoop and returned it to the bag next to the wall.
Rain hitting the roof alerted her to stop what she was doing and make a dash down the long dirt path to her quaint country dwelling that was some distance away.
Putting her hands on her hips, she pressed her lips together in a determined line. I didn’t check the chickens. The clothes are still on the line.
Again, thunder crackled. She could hear the chickens clucking in the nearby coop.
I think everything’s as secure as it can be.
She offered a final glance at her standardbred and frowned. As she stepped away from the stall, she turned and spoke in a loud voice: “People think I named you inappropriately. It’s no secret that men watch their hind sides when you’re around. But I can only imagine what it was like being abused. That’s why I rescued you. I know what you’ve managed to overcome. And to me, you’re an angel.”
The damp, heavy air forced beads of sweat down her cheeks as she rushed to the large sliding door. At the entrance, she put her finger on the lantern’s on/off button. As she did so, a noise caught her attention.
Serenity stopped and listened for a repeat noise. Instinctively, she sensed that what she’d heard wasn’t a typical barn sound from a rodent or a bird. Or even the occasional banging of the wind blowing loose siding against the structure.
She pressed her finger against her lips. I thought I heard a human noise. It must be my imagination.
She was fully aware of the dire need to get inside her house. But curiosity prompted her to leave the lantern on, turn around, and make her way toward what seemed to be the source of the noise.
I’ll bet it’s the possum that hides under the building. If it is, I need to shoo it out of here before my horse tries to jump the gate and breaks a leg. The last thing I want is for Angel to injure himself.
A strong gust of wind thrust tree branches against the tall structure. Wasting no time, she grabbed the rake from the wall with her free hand to shoo the animal. She headed to the far side of the building.
It was darker near the back because the few windows in this part of the barn were small. She slowed, stepping with great care through straight rows of straw bales, which extended nearly halfway to the ceiling.
The lantern’s light helped only a little now amid the darkness between the bales. She stopped. Listened. She heard nothing. Then what sounded like balls began hitting the roof. Hail. Looks like I’m stuck here.
Suddenly, she heard a faint noise that seemed to come from the bales. A combination of uncertainty and nervousness prompted her to grip the lantern handle in her right hand so tightly that her knuckles froze in place. Her left hand gripped the rake.
She saw a small beam of light that wasn’t from her lantern. As she stepped between two tall piles of straw, a set of strong hands came from behind, tearing away her rake and her lantern and pinning her arms to her sides, while a different set of hands yanked something over her face, covering her eyes, nose, and mouth.
The tight cloth muffled her screams. She could barely hear herself cry out for help. It was hard to breathe. Her heart pumped so fast and hard she thought it would jump right out of her chest. She shook uncontrollably.
In the background, Angel’s loud protests of neighs and whinnies accelerated. Serenity barely heard a short conversation between two men. It didn’t take long for her legs to give way. She fell to her knees. Her face met the concrete. Pieces of straw poked at her face. As a downpour of rain and hail hit the roof, she closed her eyes. They’re tying my feet.
She couldn’t think straight but silently prayed. Now she understood Angel’s strange behavior. But it was too late. Because she was going to die.
Before sunrise, Stephen Lantz stepped to the side of the blacktop that led from the Lantz house to Serenity’s and walked toward her home. As usual, he made his way to the side entrance. He knocked. And hummed.
No answer. He knocked louder. Still nothing. He turned to face her shed and glimpsed Serenity’s buggy through the large window.
He frowned. He turned the door handle, entered the porch, then opened the door to the kitchen. As he stood inside, he breathed in the pleasant scent of cinnamon. There was no smell of freshly brewed herbal tea. No indication that she’d eaten breakfast.
He respected her privacy. But my instincts tell me something’s wrong. I need to check her house. What if something happened to her? He bit the inside of his cheek and then rushed from room to room, hollering her name.
She’s not inside. I’ll check her barn. He didn’t bother closing the kitchen door as he dashed across the porch and out the screen door, which slammed shut behind him.
She’s probably assessing the storm damage. Quick steps took him up the dirt path that led to her barn. He clenched his jaw.
His heart pumped harder and faster than usual. As he approached the back of Serenity’s property, he pressed his lips in a tense, straight line and focused his efforts on finding the owner of the town’s floral shop, the Pink Petal.
Branches from the large, old oak trees lay ravaged on the ground. Towels and bedding were wrapped around the clotheslines. A large white sheet was in disarray on a tree branch. A light green dress clung to a nearby bush. Something has happened to her. He cupped his mouth with his hands and hollered as loudly as he could: “Serenity!”
Automatically, he opened the shed door and hollered. No answer. He rushed to the barn.
His heart pumped harder … The large sliding door was open. He could hear loud, demanding whinnies and neighs.
When he reached the entrance, he stopped and said an urgent prayer to Gott to find her alive. Then he bounded inside the old structure and stopped, looking all around him. “Serenity!”
The misnamed Angel was going crazy with whinnies and neighs, trying desperately to move the latch on the bar that would allow him access to the building’s main area.
Stephen rushed to the east wall. Then to the west. He cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “Serenity! Are you in here?”
He put his hands against his hips and stopped while he eyed the numerous stacked bales of straw and hay near the rear of the barn. Not sure what to expect, he continued shouting her name as he pushed himself between two rows of straw toward the back wall. As he did so, loose straw poked him. He used his elbows to push his way to the end of the row, which narrowed so substantially he could barely get through. At the back, he heard quiet moans of distress.
Behind the bales, he spotted Serenity face down on the floor.
Immediately, he knelt next to her and began to untie the face covering. She fought.
His voice shook when he attempted to reassure her. “It’s okay, Serenity. It’s me. It’s Stephen! I’m going to roll you over so that you’re face up. Here.”
When she was on her back, he continued, “Now I’m untying you. You’re going to be okay.”
His pulse sprinted with an odd combination of relief and despair. When he undid her face covering, he glimpsed horror in her deep blue eyes.
But immediately she gave a sigh of relief. “Stephen! Thank goodness you’re here!”
“I’ll move you onto your side.” After he did so, he undid the tight rope that bound her wrists. “Just give me a minute, and I’ll have you out of this.”
Several tense moments passed while he tried to undo the knot. Then he reached into his trousers pocket and pulled out his work knife. “Hold still. I’ll cut the twine.”
She stayed very still while he worked. The moment the rope was severed, she moved her hands in front of her. He couldn’t help but note that her skin was white and clammy. He quickly ordered her to move her fingers and took her right hand to massage it. “We’ve got to get your circulation back and running.” He pinched her wrist. “Can you feel that?”
“It’s a little numb. But there’s feeling.”
“Gut. Now rub your hands together. Like this. Don’t stop.” While she did that, he used his knife to cut the twine around her ankles.
He removed her black shoes. Her socks. He rubbed her feet. “Is there feeling in your toes?”
“A little.”
He pressed harder and massaged her feet and ankles.
“The sensation’s coming back.”
As he continued relentlessly rubbing her cold feet, he asked, “Are you okay?” Before she could answer, he went on. “I mean, aside from being gagged and tied.”
She nodded while alternately extending her fingers and making fists. Emotion edged her voice. “I thought they were going to kill me.” A grateful breath escaped her before she looked into his eyes. “Oh, Stephen! I’m so glad you’re here!” She leaned forward to hug him. His heart melted. When she released her arms from around his shoulders, she coughed. Then she adjusted her hips on the concrete floor.
“Here.” He stood and supported her. “I’ll help you up.”
When she was on her feet, he wrapped his arms around her and kept them there to support her. And to reassure her. And himself. “Keep wiggling those toes. Keep moving those feet. I won’t let you fall.” He tried to maintain an encouraging tone as he asked, “You think you can stand by yourself?”
“I’m not sure. My right leg tingles.”
He helped her toward the barn’s entrance, although they were quite a distance away.
All the while, he kept an arm around her, and she leaned against him. “Just take slow steps. Hopefully, your circulation is returning. The tingling is a sign that it will.”
With his assistance, she stepped forward. He held on to her tightly for fear that she would fall … and because he never wanted to let her go.
A short silence ensued before she spoke in a hushed voice.
“My head aches. The men who tied me up weren’t gentle.”
With great concern, he motioned her to the nearest lone bale of straw and helped her to sit down. Then he quickly moved to the floor and vigorously massaged each foot, one at a time. While he worked, he glanced up at her.
“While I work on your circulation, you want to tell me what happened? Then I’ll call the police.”
As they looked at each other, a knot stuck in his throat while the enormity of the situation sank in. He took in her disheveled appearance. Her kapp had come off.
Long thick strands of beautiful, wavy blond hair seemed to be everywhere. On her shoulders. On her back. Her creamy, soft-looking cheeks were dirty and bore scratches. Her eyes didn’t show their usual calm-looking, reassuring blue depths. Instead they reminded him of a relentless, turbulent storm.
The only thing important to him was making sure she was okay.
She met his gaze, and her lips parted, but no words came out.
She bent her chin to study her bruised wrists. His heart ached.
They sat in silence as he continued encouraging circulation in her feet. Color was returning. She wiggled her toes. A strange but wonderful feeling swept up Stephen’s arms and landed in his shoulders. Despite the ugliness of what had happened, something beautiful filled him until he was so warm, he thought he’d catch fire.
A dire need to know what had happened tugged at him with such force, he ached. Yet he didn’t utter a word. Because deep down inside, he was afraid to hear the truth. But it has to be addressed.
She rubbed her temples and closed her eyes. When she finally opened them, her voice was soft and shaky. “Stephen, I’ll tell you about last night.” After a slight hesitation, she shook her head in disbelief. “But you won’t believe it. I still don’t.”
“I will believe you. And we’ll tell the authorities so they can catch whoever did this and lock them up.”
Again, she coughed. She whispered in a hoarse voice. “I’m so thirsty.”
He got up, went to the nearby shelf, and returned with a bottle of water that he handed to her to drink.
Of course, she’s dehydrated.
He sat next to her and laid a firm hand on her back. “Whoa. Slow down. I don’t want you to choke.” She coughed. Then she nodded in agreement. He tried to stay calm while plucking straw from her clothing. Dear Gott, please instruct me to do Your will to help her and to catch whoever did this. Please guide us both and the police too.
She set the partial bottle of liquid between them. His brows narrowed with great concern while sunlight began to float in through the windows.
He rubbed the back of his neck before returning his attention to Serenity. “You’re shaking.”
He wanted to hold her again. But if he did, it would be for him.
So instead he ran his hands down her right arm, then left, putting pressure to warm her.
“Stephen, I’m very lucky to be alive.” Her voice cracked as she went on. “Here’s what I remember.”
A cricket chirped at his feet while he listened. She spoke slowly and thoughtfully, describing the awful scenario.
His heart pumped to an angry beat. Please, Gott. Forgive me.
He cupped his chin with his hand while she explained about the noise she’d heard, and how thinking back, she believed it was possibly a man’s cough.
She told Stephen about two men talking while one forced the cloth around her eyes and mouth and the other yanked her arms behind her back until she thought she’d pass out. He’d bound her wrists together with the very same twine that held together numerous straw bales. Stephen noticed there was plenty of excess twine loose on the floor and figured that was what the men had used.
His heart ached while she explained that she had realized Angel’s unusual behavior was sparked by the intruders Serenity had instinctively believed would kill her. She’d prayed to live. And finally, when she’d heard Stephen hollering her name, she had been confident that he would look until he found her and that she would not die in the barn.
Sometime during the night, she’d stopped trying to scream because her attempts had made it too difficult to breathe. Then she’d lost consciousness. Upon reviving, she’d tried numerous tactics to move, and thankfully, because the twine had some give, she’d managed to move her hands and feet enough so they wouldn’t go completely numb.
She sat up a little straighter. “I just remembered something else.”
“What?”
“One man spoke in a raspy, throaty voice. I can say with full certainty that I’ve never encountered him before.” She narrowed her brows. “It was unpleasant sounding.” She shrugged.
They looked at each other with what seemed to be a mutual blend of despair and joy—and some other unidentifiable emotion morphed itself into the equation. Something unique and unfamiliar. Unexplainable.
Finally, a laugh escaped her. “Stephen Lantz, you don’t believe me, do you?” Before he could answer, she went on. “If you don’t, I can’t blame you.” She breathed in and lifted her palms to face the ceiling. “I realize how incredible it all seems. Now, I’m not sure I didn’t just dream it.”
Reality kicked in, and Stephen straightened. He knew what needed to be done next. His voice was firm, and he made a conscious effort to convey understanding and sympathy. During the year or so he’d known this kind, beautiful woman, he’d never dreamed that something of this nature could or would ever happen to her. Right here, in one of Illinois’ safest areas.
He touched her right hand. “Is the numbness gone?”
She nodded.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?”
She offered a certain shake of her head. “No. I thank Gott I’m okay. He kept me safe and led you to me.”
Salty moisture sprang from Stephen’s eyes, and he blinked at the sting.
He forced himself to hold his emotion back. Be strong for her. “He sure did.” Stephen couldn’t stop the way his arms automatically wrapped around her waist. Her warm touch consoled him. But there would be no comfort until they’d caught who’d done this. He pulled away and placed a finger under her chin, gently lifting it a bit so they looked directly into each other’s eyes.
“Now it’s time to involve the police.”