They need to question her.”
She didn’t believe him, but instead of arguing she squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “Why don’t you just climb in your car and return to town?”
The finality of her tone must have convinced him she wouldn’t change her mind. He started to step back but then lunged for her. “Where is she? Where’s Miriam?”
Hannah screamed. He grabbed her arm. She slipped out of his hold and ran into the woods. The tall pines blocked the moonlight and darkness surrounded her like a pall.
She tripped, righted herself and ran on.
His footfalls came after her, drawing closer.
She increased her speed, not knowing where she was headed or what she would find.
Lord, save me.
A clearing lay ahead. The moon broke through the dark cloud cover, bathing the rolling landscape in light that would mark her as an easy target if she continued on. She angled away from the clearing and forged deeper into the forest. Stumbling over a branch, she threw out her hand to block her fall. Her fingers brushed against a ladder.
She felt the rungs and stared up into the night, seeing the faint outline of a platform at least twelve feet off the ground.
Movement in the brush warned of the man’s approach.
Hannah scurried up the ladder and climbed onto the platform. Lying down, she placed her ear to the floorboards and worked to keep her breathing shallow. Even her labored pull of air could alert him to her whereabouts.
The guy ran straight ahead into the clearing. Before the moon passed behind the clouds, Hannah could make out his features. Why was the guy interested in Miriam?
Dear God, don’t let him find me.
Her heart pounded so hard she thought it would surely shake the platform.
The man backtracked. He stopped at the foot of the ladder. The platform swayed as he stepped onto the first rung, then the second and the third.
She was trapped at twelve feet above ground and about to be found out by a man intent on doing her harm.
Be still, she chastised her heart, ricocheting in her chest.
She could hear his raspy breath as he stopped his climb and remained poised halfway up the ladder.
“Where...are...you?” he demanded, his voice low and menacing. “I know you ran this way, but I don’t see you anywhere.”
A lump filled her throat. In half a second he would scramble to the top, grab her and—
She gritted her teeth to keep from screaming.
Leaves rustled behind the stand as if someone or something was scurrying through the fallen debris, heading back toward the parked cars.
“I’ve got you now,” he whispered, sounding jubilant. In a flash, he climbed down the ladder and ran to catch up to whatever squirrel or possum or raccoon that had saved Hannah, at least for the moment.
Over the roar in her ears, she could hear him disappear into the night. Opening her mouth, she gulped air and trembled from the fear that had wrapped her tightly in its hold.
Thank You, God.
She lay still for a long time, listening to the forest and allowing her anxiety to calm. Breathing in the serenity of the moment, she closed her eyes and, at some point, drifted into a light slumber.
With a jerk, she awoke. Rubbing her neck, she started to sit up. Just that quickly, the sound of footsteps returned. Her gut churned and she bit her lip to keep from moaning in distress.
After all this time, why was he coming back?
Again, she flattened her body against the platform, willed her heart to remain calm and blinked back hot tears that stung her eyes.
This time he would find her. He neared, then stepped onto the ladder, one foot, then another and another as he climbed higher.
Faintly in the distance, she could hear the rev of a car engine as a vehicle headed down the mountain, but all she could think about was the man on the ladder.
He stopped for half a second, then raised a rifle and laid it on the wooden deck.
Her chance. Her only chance. She grabbed the weapon and pointed it straight at the wide-brimmed hat and full face that appeared over the edge of the platform.
* * *
A sliver of moonlight peered from between the clouds as Lucas Grant climbed over the top of the ladder onto the deer stand. Just that fast, his heart stopped, seeing the woman staring at him wide-eyed. Her long hair and oval face made him think of Olivia.
Then he saw the rifle—his .30-30 Winchester—aimed at his gut.
“Put the gun down, lady, before one of us gets hurt.”
“Who are you?” she demanded, her gaze wary and tight with fear. Although she squared her shoulders and raised her jaw, the hint of uncertainty was evident in her voice.
“Lucas Grant. This is my property. My deer stand.” He let the information settle for half a second then added, “Seems you’re trespassing. So, if you know what’s good for you, ma’am, you best hand over my .30-30.”
He pursed his lips and pulled in a breath as she hesitated longer than he would have liked.
“I won’t hurt you, ma’am, and I don’t aim to do you harm.”
She tilted her pretty head, wrinkled her brow and looked at him through what appeared, even in the dim moonlight, to be troubled eyes.
“You’re Amish?” she asked, the surprise evident in her voice.
He glanced down at the black trousers and blue shirt, knowing it was the suspenders that made her come to that conclusion, along with the wide-brimmed felt hat and the black outer coat that hung open.
“I work at an Amish bed-and-breakfast,” he said, unwilling to provide more information.
Her brow wrinkled even more. “So you’re not Amish.”
He shrugged. “Call me Amish in training.”
“What?”
He held out his hand. “Ma’am, let’s get rid of the weapon and then we can make our introductions.”
Instead of reassuring the woman, his comment seemed to have the opposite effect. She gripped the barrel more tightly and inched her finger even closer to the trigger.
Not where he wanted it to be.
She leaned forward, her brow raised. “Did you have anything to do with the man at the filling station?”
He took off his hat and raked his hand through his hair, trying to follow her train of thought. “What filling station?”
