the growing darkness and encroaching storm. Rosie repositioned the kapp on her head and secured it with hairpins before she climbed on her bike, determined to get home before the sky opened and the rain commenced.
The nervous unease within her that had started in town continued to grow. She thought again of the man in the white sedan, talking on his cell phone. Pedaling past his parked car, she had noticed how much he resembled a person she had seen once and never wanted to see again.
Surely her eyes were playing tricks on her.
Thoughts of that horrific night rolled through her mind. The door to Will MacIntosh’s trailer had pushed open, and the man with the gun had forced Will outside. Rosie had escaped, but she had not run fast enough.
Chilled by the memory, she glanced over her shoulder, relieved to find the road empty of vehicles. The last thing she wanted was to be followed. She felt sure the man in town had not seen her, yet she needed to be careful.
Datt would probably question her late arrival. He had never been a man of compassion, and since she had returned home seven months ago, he seemed increasingly short-tempered.
Even her sweet Mamm struggled with his behavior.
Regrettably, her father would never forgive Rosie for the mistake she had made. Baby Joseph was not the problem. Her own stubborn independence had gotten her in trouble, along with her desire to experience life to the fullest, even if it meant running away with an Englischer.
But Will MacIntosh had been murdered, and she had been trafficked and held captive for eight months. She had spent the last month of her confinement in a dank and dark root cellar where she had given birth to Joseph. The memory of their rescue and reunion with her parents had been bittersweet. If only her father had rejoiced at their homecoming.
Hearing the sound of a car engine, barely audible over the gusting wind, Rosie glanced over her shoulder. A white sedan raced down the hill.
She gasped and pedaled faster.
White automobiles were common among the Englisch, she told herself, hoping to calm her rapid pulse and thumping heart. Her legs burned from the exertion. The roar of the engine filled her ears.
The car’s headlights illuminated the roadway, catching her in their glare. She inched as close to the edge of the road as possible and glanced back. Her heart stopped. The car was headed straight for her. She raised her hand to wave off the driver, but he continued on course.
The front wheel of her bike slipped off the pavement and onto the rocky berm. She lost balance and crashed to the ground. Pain ricocheted through her shoulders as she skidded across the hard-packed earth.
The car stopped. A door slammed. Before she could catch her breath and climb to her feet, the man she had seen in town was leaning over her. Dark brown hair with a long brushstroke of white near his left temple. Narrow eyes and a thin mouth. The same man who had come to Will’s door sixteen months ago.
He grabbed her arm.
“Where is it?” he demanded. “Where’s the information Will stole from me?”
She tried to pull free from his hold.
He slapped her face and twisted her arm. “Tell me.”
She grimaced with pain.
“You were Will’s girlfriend and his accomplice.”
“What?”
“Don’t act dumb. All this time, we didn’t realize what he had taken until the last few days. When I saw you in town, it all became clear. He gave it to you for safekeeping, only we need it back.”
Rosie tried to pull free. “I do not have anything you want.”
“Don’t act like a stupid Amish girl,” he snarled. “You fooled us once, but you can’t fool us again.”
Tears burned her eyes.
“Will needed to be taught a lesson. Maybe you do, too.” He reached for her throat.
“No!”
She clawed at his hands, which he had wrapped around her neck. Her lungs burned like fire. She tried to breathe.
Suddenly, as if hearing someone approach, he eased his hold and cocked his head. His eyes widened as he stood upright and stared for a long moment at the crest of the hill.
Gasping for air, she scooted to the edge of the incline. If only she could escape. But how?
Turning his gaze back to her, he grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. “You’re coming with me.”
The thought of being held captive again was too much to bear. She kicked his leg and gouged her fingers in his eyes.
“Aagh!” He dropped his head into his hands.
She turned to flee. He grabbed her shoulder. She jerked free, then tripped and fell to the ground.
“I need that information.” He kicked her once, twice. Air whooshed from her lungs.
She rolled over and saw him raise his work boot again. Cringing, she anticipated the blow, until with one last thrust of his mud-covered boot, he pushed her over the edge of the cliff.
Her head hit a boulder. Prickly thistles and scrub brush scraped her hands and legs. Rocks battered her as she slipped and slid to the bottom on the steep ravine. “Gott, help me,” she moaned until she no longer saw or heard anything.
Ezra Stoltz jiggled the reins and encouraged his mare over the crest of the hill. A car sat parked on the downward slope of the road. A tall man with a thick build stood in the glare of the car’s headlights. He glanced Ezra’s way, then quickly picked up a bike and hurled it over the edge of the roadway. Hurrying back to his car, he climbed behind the wheel, gunned the engine and headed north along the narrow country road.
With a flick of the reins, Ezra urged Bessie forward, the clip-clop of her hooves on the pavement in sync with his rapidly beating heart. Ezra had seen Rosie Glick pass the hardware store on her bike. With the fast-approaching storm, he had wanted to ensure she got home safely and had followed in his buggy. Seeing the man made him all the more concerned for her safety.
Nearing the spot where the car had parked, he pulled Bessie to a stop and jumped to the ground. Peering over the edge of the drop-off, he spied the bike, about ten yards below, and quickly descended to where it was lying.
He glanced at the steep downward slope and the boulders that pocked the hillside. Something near the rushing water caught his eye. He moved closer.
Blue fabric and a white kapp.
Rosie!
He scurried down the hill and kneeled beside her. His heart wrenched as he saw the blood that seeped from her forehead. Her arms were scraped, the hem of her dress torn. He touched her cheek.
“Can you hear me? It’s Ezra Stoltz. Open your eyes, Rosie.”
Ezra’s heart stopped when she failed to respond. Please, Gott, do not let
