Heather enjoyed the meal she and Zach—well, mostly Zach—had prepared. It was her first dinner in her mammy’s remodeled home. And it felt wonderful.
The sun lowered in the sky as they chatted over a frozen cake from Pepperidge Farm—apparently Zach drew the line at baking. She stood up from the new table and turned on the kerosene lamps, which created a soft glow. She sat back down next to Zach, not eager for the evening to be over.
“When are your first guests scheduled to arrive?”
“Next weekend.” She moved the crumbs of the cake around on her plate. “Barring any cancellations. My plan is to only book rooms for the weekend.”
“Well, hopefully this other issue will be resolved.”
Heather studied the palm of her hand. “I haven’t watched any of the news coverage regarding the escape. I hope mention of an ongoing search for an escaped convict in Quail Hollow won’t be bad for business.”
Zach wiped his mouth with a napkin, then set it down, neatly running his fingers over the edge, creating a sharp fold.
“If I knew you better, I might think you were stalling,” she said, trying to read his expression.
He drew in a deep breath. His dirty-blond hair looked darker in the heavy shadows. His eyes were hard to read. “The news mentioned that the search for Fox has focused on Quail Hollow because of you.”
Heather’s pulse whooshed in her ears as Zach’s words seemed to be coming from miles away. “They mentioned me by name?” Of course they had. Hers was a juicy story. She swallowed hard. “Anything else?” She found herself holding her breath. “Did they mention my mother’s murder?”
“Yes.”
“How... Why?” But she knew why. Her mother’s murder had been the only murder in the Amish community and now the next big story to hit the quiet town a generation later had a direct link: her. She groaned. “I wonder if this is going to ruin business.” She snapped her gaze to him and laughed, rolling her eyes. “No, no, it’ll be great for business. Like how people like to take tours of morbid things, like Lizzie Borden’s house or...” She dragged her hand through her hair. “Not that my mother died here. But her body...” She let the words trail off, not wanting to talk about it. Her mother’s body had been found in the barn out back. Her barn. Another part of her past that she’d eventually have to face.
Zach covered her hand with his. “A news truck was out in front of your house a few days ago, but Deputy Gates chased it away. I don’t think they gave him much of a fight because you weren’t here. There’s only so much coverage we can give to an empty house.”
“But now that I’m back?”
“If they come back, we’ll deal with it then. The truck’s in the barn, so that should buy us more time.”
“I suppose you’re right. Why borrow trouble?” Heather leaned her shoulder against his. He shifted and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “You saw the news coverage. What are they saying?”
She settled into his embrace and tuned into his comforting stroke on her arm. “It’s not important.”
Her eyes slowly closed. “I suppose you’re right. It’s not going to change anything.” She suddenly bolted upright. His arm fell away from her and she angled her head to study him. “Did they put a photo of me on the news?”
“Heather...”
She recognized a stall when she heard it. “Tell me. Did they?”
“They ran coverage from when you testified. So yes.”
She stood, suddenly very exhausted. “You’re right, I shouldn’t have asked. I was really hoping to live in anonymity. I guess that was too much to ask.” Gathering the dishes, she carried them into the kitchen and over to the sink, wishing she could crawl into bed and sleep. Forget about her troubles for a few hours.
“Look on the bright side,” Zach said, bringing a few more dishes over. “At least the Amish don’t watch TV.”
She narrowed her gaze at him skeptically. “I have a feeling news like this will make its way around Quail Hollow, TV or not. Ruthie seems to know things from town before I do.” She shrugged as she filled up half the sink with hot soapy water. “This is where I need to rely on my faith. Trust God that things will work out.”
He gently touched the small of her back. “Trust God and take precautions.” She didn’t miss the cynicism in his tone.
“I’ll let the dishes soak and clean up in the morning. It’s early yet, but I’m tired.” Maybe relaxing with a book would settle her nerves. She leaned forward and brushed a kiss across his cheek. “Good night, Zach. Thank you for everything.” She took a step back. “You should find anything you need in the guest bathroom. If that fails, just give me a holler.”
He nodded. “Night, Heather.”
A current of electricity ran between them. He was here doing a job and then he’d be gone. Did she dare trust her heart to him only to be hurt again? Like Brian had hurt her.
Zach was nothing like Brian.
But how did she really know? How did anyone?
When she first met Brian, she would have never pegged him for the man he turned out to be.
Dismissing her swirling thoughts, she spun around and ran up the stairs. She slipped into her bedroom and shut the door and turned the dead bolt. She’d sleep better with the lock in place even with Zach downstairs.
Heather flopped down on the chaise lounge, her mind still racing. She hadn’t had affectionate feelings toward a man since... She traced the stitching on the arm of the chair and drew in a deep breath. She could still smell the subtle scent of his aftershave. Feel the solidness of his arm around her.
She grabbed the blanket draped over the back of the chair and pulled it over her. Maybe she was confusing her feelings of security and protection for something more.
Something she thought she’d never have again.
She forgot about the book she planned to read and started to doze. She snapped to attention at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Groggy from sleep, she stumbled toward the door, yet managed to keep her bare feet silent on the cold hardwood floor. Her fingers faltered at the knob to the dead bolt.
Mouth growing dry, she opened the door a fraction, relieved to see Ruthie passing in the hallway. “Good night,” she whispered.
“Good night.” The shadow of Ruthie’s hand lifted in a quick wave. “See you in the morning.”
Closing her door, Heather turned the bolt, relieved to know she was no longer alone.
* * *
The slant of sun cut across the edge of her bed, startling Heather awake. She bolted up, then stretched across and grabbed her cell phone to check the time.
After eight!
Throwing back the covers, she got cleaned up and dressed for the day and ran downstairs, both refreshed and embarrassed. She never slept this late and she still had a list of things to do. A week had passed since Heather had returned to the bed-and-breakfast with Zach and Ruthie in tow. The house had been abuzz with activity: Sloppy Sam and his crew finishing odd projects, Ruthie making lists and Zach helping out wherever he could. Everything seemed to be coming together.
And still no sign of Brian.
When Heather reached the kitchen, she found coffee already made in the coffeemaker—another one of her Englisch cheats—but no sign of Zach.
Unable to resist, she poured herself a cup, then sipped it while staring out the window over the yard. In just over twenty-four hours her first guests would be arriving. That was when she saw movement by the barn. Squinting, she noticed that it was Zach. He had found a wheelbarrow and a pitchfork and was hard at work.
“What are you doing, U.S. Marshal Zachary Walker?” she muttered to the empty kitchen, reminding herself that he was here because of his job. But even at that, he worked harder than one of Sloppy Sam’s crew members. Zach knew the ins and outs of home repair. However, the longer he stayed, the harder it was to remind herself that he was here on business. Thankfully, Ruthie’s presence kept Heather’s emotions in check.
All of them had a job to do. Period.
Carefully holding her coffee so it wouldn’t slosh out of the mug, Heather slipped her feet into her black Wellies and stepped outside. The sun beat down on the gorgeous fall day. She drew in a deep breath and some of the stress of the recent events washed off her.
She stood on the back stoop, sipping her coffee, hoping to get Zach’s attention. After a few moments, he set aside the pitchfork and grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow and pushed it out into the sun and directly toward her.
He stopped and set the wheelbarrow down and smiled. “Sleep well?”
“I did.”
He squinted up at her and lifted a hand to tent his eyes. “I thought I’d put some hay down here so the guests wouldn’t have to slop through the mud.”
Heather smiled. “Good idea.”
“What are your plans for the barn? It looks like it could use some TLC.”
Heather’s gaze drifted to the barn and her pulse automatically spiked. She had never stepped foot in the barn, nor did she have immediate plans to.
“Is something wrong?” The tone of Zach’s voice suggested he had to repeat the question. Had he?
“Um...” She scratched the crown of her head and set her mug down on the top rail of the small porch. “I guess I never thought about it much.” That’s a lie. The barn hunkered on the property like a beast ready to get up and strike.
“If I patched up the roof, it would prevent more rain damage. I’m sure tourists would love to go into a barn and explore, but in its current condition, it’s a little dangerous.”
“I’m out of funds for now,” she said curtly, walking down to the wheelbarrow and grabbing a fistful of hay. She shook it out over the muddy path.
As Heather reached for more, Zach touched her wrist, stopping her mid motion. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
She sprinkled the hay over the mud, then brushed her palms together. She tucked her hands under her armpits as a sudden chill raced up her spine. “They found my mother’s body in the barn.”
Zach seemed to reel back. “Oh, I had no idea. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed.”
She shook her head. “No, it’s okay. Part of the reason I came here was to face my past.” Her tone was droll. “I had no idea I’d be facing so much of my past all at once.”
“The offer still stands. I could patch the roof.”
She scratched her neck. “Let me think about it.”
“Okay.” He turned and got to the business of spreading the hay.
Ruthie rounded the corner of the house and stopped. “Gut morning,” she sang good-naturedly. “I see you’re finally up.”
“Good morning.” Heather smiled. “Yes, I was tired.”
Ruthie brushed her hands together. “I planted some flowers by the mailbox out front. Sloppy Sam ran me home to pick some up from the greenhouse.”
“Thank you. That’s a nice touch.”
“Did you still want to go to the grocery store this morning?” Ruthie asked.
Heather picked up her coffee mug from the rail and opened the back door, allowing Ruthie to go in first. “Yes. Let’s finish our list first.”
Before disappearing inside, she turned to Zach. “If you promise not to fall off the roof and break your neck, I think it would be great to patch the holes in the barn.” She didn’t need a liability on her property.
Heather could feel Ruthie’s gaze on her. Most locals knew the story of her mom’s murder even though it had happened before the young Amish woman’s time. “I thought—”
“Perhaps someday I’d like to own horses. Maybe get a buggy. Do Amish tours.” Heather smiled. “Lots of potential.”
Zach covered his heart and gave her a solemn look. “Promise I won’t fall through the roof.”
“Please don’t. That’s the last thing I need.” She shot him a pointed glare. “Be careful. I’m going inside. Ruthie and I need to make our grocery list.”
“Do you need a ride?”
“No, my car is parked behind the barn. Hold on.” She scooted into the house, grabbed the set of keys from the hook and returned, tossing them to Zach. He caught them in one hand. “Can you pull it around for us?”
A worry whispered across her brain. She prayed Brian hadn’t taken his frustration out on her car as he had done on Zach’s. She had gotten so spoiled this past week being driven around by Zach first in his loaned vehicle and now his repaired one, she hadn’t given her car much thought. It wasn’t much of a car, but at this point, she couldn’t afford to replace it.
“Sure thing. I’ll bring it around to the driveway.”
Ruthie and Heather watched him jog to the backside of the barn. “Isn’t he helpful?” Ruthie asked playfully.
“Yes, yes, he is.”
* * *
Despite Heather’s protest, Zach decided he should escort her and Ruthie to the grocery store. He was relieved to find her car had remained untouched. Maybe Fox hadn’t noticed it parked behind the barn.
Once Ruthie and Heather were safely home and inside, creating a menu for the guests, Zach decided today would be a good day to inspect the damage to the barn. When his parents first got the cabin in the woods some ten years ago, Zach had done many of the repairs and updates. It had been a therapy of sorts.
He found a ladder in the yard and propped it against the side and climbed up and inspected the roof. With some plywood and shingles, he could make this thing as good as new. Well, at least it would be a start. The way it was now, rain would continue to damage the structure to the point of no return. Maybe Heather would prefer that.
Zach made a few mental notes, then climbed down the ladder. Far from the house so nobody would overhear, he decided to give Deputy Gates a call and ask him about Sarah Miller’s murder. Gates seemed more than eager to discuss the case that had marred his father’s tenure as sheriff.
“There had been a vagrant passing through town at the time of Mrs. Miller’s disappearance. A middle-aged man who seemed to be homeless and acting strange. Might have had mental health issues. Anyway, he left town at the same time Sarah Miller went missing.”
“Did anyone see Sarah with the man?”
“Not per se. But Sarah had been in town one of the days the man was begging for food outside the grocery store. Her children remembered that she gave him food. The Amish are kind that way.”
“And you think maybe he became fixated on Sarah because of this?” Zach let out a long breath. Unstable people had become obsessed with their victims over far less.
“That was our best guess. But even with a sketch of the suspect widely distributed, no one identified the guy. Case grew cold.” The deputy cleared his throat. “Now it’s what, twenty-some years later? You’re not thinking about digging into this case, are you?”
Zach turned and looked at the house. No one had come outside. “I guess the law enforcement side of me made me curious.”
“Oh, plenty of people have been curious, but the case has gone unsolved. I’m afraid it’ll always be that way. It was a dark page in the quiet town’s history. My poor father, despite being retired, still brings up that case now and again.”
“Sarah Miller’s body was found in the barn behind the Lapp property?”
“Yeah...” Zach shifted his stance and hooked his thumb into his belt. “Hard to say if her body had been there all along or if the murderer had dumped it there just prior to her being found.”
“Didn’t the Millers use the barn?”
“Sure did. But Sarah’s horse had gone missing, too. No reason to go into the stall without the horse.”
“Did they ever find the horse?”
“Yes, about a week later. An Amish farmer from the next district over brought it around once word reached him about Sarah’s disappearance.”
Zach rubbed his jaw. “Thanks for the information.”
Ending the call, Zach walked around to the front of the barn and entered it again, this time with a new awareness. It wasn’t a large barn, so the fact that her body had remained missing for a few days meant that it had either been moved or hidden.
A little voice deep in his head scolded him for not just enjoying this fall day. And instead of appreciating the lull in the case against Fox and salvaging part of his vacation, he was mentally digging into a cold case.
Totally not his job.
But finding answers was important to Heather, so it had become important to him. He inspected the entire barn. Sun streamed in through the broken slats and dust particles floated in the air. A ladder was propped up against the loft. He hadn’t remembered seeing the ladder there the night they searched the barn for Fox. Perhaps one of the workmen had brought it in more recently. He grabbed a rung and shook it. Seemed sturdy enough.
Carefully checking each ladder rung as he climbed, he reached the top and stepped into the loft. The strong scent of dried wood reached his nose. He crossed to the wall and slid open the loft door. He held on to the frame, realizing that though the drop to the grass below might not kill him, it wouldn’t feel good.
And he had promised Heather he wouldn’t break his neck.
From here, he had an unobstructed view across the yard to the upstairs bedrooms at the back of the house, including Heather’s. Someone could sit here and watch.
A chill skittered down his spine. He pulled his cell phone out of his back pocket and turned on the flashlight. He shined it around the loft and stopped when he found a fast-food restaurant bag crumpled up. He picked it up and carried it over to the light by the opening. Unfolding the bag slowly, he smelled the not-too-old scent of French fries.
Strange.
He rooted around the bag and found a receipt. He pulled it out and stared at it, blinking rapidly. It was dated yesterday afternoon.