Accidentally Amish (2 page)

This was it. The hotel had been new when she was in high school. Now it had a ready-for-remodel quality, but it still anchored her geographical bearings.

Another message zoomed in. Again she ignored it. She cruised around the back of the hotel, staying as close to the building as she could. This was not the place where Barrett was waiting, and it was not where Annie had intended to go, but it would have to do. So far the Jeep had not followed her into the lot.

Annie pulled into an empty parking spot in the first row outside a back door of the building. She dropped the keys into her denim bag then pulled its wide strap over her head before picking up the small red duffel that held a change of clothes and a few personal items. This was not exactly going according to plan. The rental car was waiting for her in Castle Rock, where she would have brought the trail of her own car to an end by stashing it in a friend’s garage. Now she would have to leave the suitcase and find another way to get there.

A glance over her shoulder reassured her that Rick had not made the same turn into the hotel lot.

Not yet.

She opened the car door, got out, closed the door behind her, and listened to it lock. Behind the hotel, a grove of aspen trees shuddered in the wind, their leaves twinkling in waning sunlight. And beyond that, if it was still there, was a lumber distribution center the local contractors used. Specialty woods. Trims, cabinets, that sort of thing. Annie used to go to the parking lot for purposes she would never have admitted to her parents.

The Jeep’s headlights glared just as Annie reached the edge of the grove. She pressed up against a tree, knowing that a slender aspen would never fully hide her form. Golden aspens that were a spectacular sight on a sunny autumn mountain drive were not much use for hiding behind in the summer. Perhaps the growing shadows would disguise her, though, if she kept still.

Rick parked the Jeep. He got out. His dress shoes clicked against the pavement.

Annie wished for someone—anyone—to pull into the lot right then, or come out the back door of the hotel.

He stood at the edge of the grove now. Annie’s denim bag bulged on one side of her, and her red duffel on the other.

Way to be inconspicuous.

“Annie, I know you’re here.” His bass voice resonated confident, calm. “It would seem we understand each other fully now.”

Annie held her breath.

Rick advanced into the grove.

Annie suddenly itched at the base of her neck. And her hands. And her twitching nose. She refused to scratch.

“I don’t know why you’re running, Annie. Nobody wants to hurt you.” Rick’s silky timbre slithered between the trees. “We just want you to sign some papers and this can all be over. It’s sound business.”

More sound for him than for her. She had to disappear for the next few days so there could be no question of her signature on any documents.

He was three feet away from her. With one turn of his head, she would be done for.

Annie heaved the red duffel bag and hit her target, thankful for the weight of a hairdryer. Rick stumbled off balance for a split second, tripping over the bag and swearing. Annie ran through the grove. She heard his footsteps behind her, but the voice of her high school track coach rang in her ears, warning her not to turn her head to monitor a competitor’s progress. The grove was not deep, and she was soon out of it and in the parking lot of the lumber center. Several trucks of various ages and sizes created a maze in the small lot. The first truck she spied, a red pickup with a long bed, had a tarp folded away from one corner with the back gate down. Annie hurtled herself onto the gate without breaking stride and pulled the tarp over her. Knees pulled against her chest, she wedged in between two neat stacks of lumber at the edge of the bed.

And held her breath again. Her lungs burned in fury.

Rick thudded past. “Annie!”

His volume startled her, but she did not move. Not one millimeter. His steps retraced their route.

Annie heard the shuffle of other footsteps.
Barrett!

“Can we help you, sir?”

No. Not Barrett.

Rick stopped. “Looks like I need to come back when the place is open,” he said amiably.

Annie could picture the grin that surely accompanied the comment. No doubt he had his hands in his pants pockets, looking friendly and harmless.

“They open at seven in the morning,” the mystery voice answered. A pause. “Are you a contractor?”

Sure. In the dark-suit attorney’s uniform Rick wore.

“I don’t want to hold you up,” Rick said. “I’ll come back another time.”

His footsteps tapped away. Annie took a real breath.

“Odd fellow, don’t you think?” the voice said. “Dressed funny for this place.”

Another man chortled. “You’re standing beside a man in homemade clothes, and you want me to agree that a fellow in a suit is odd?”

Both men laughed. One of them yanked on the tarp and secured a corner onto a hook.

“I’m so used to you, Rufus,” the first man said. “I don’t think of you as odd.”

“Well, you’re a good friend, Tom. Let’s go home.”

“Let me just fasten everything down and we’ll get on our way.”

Go home? Where is home?

Annie winced as the truck’s gate slammed shut so close the hair on her arms fluttered. She clutched her denim bag. The man tugged on the far corner of the tarp and hooked it in place. She did not dare reveal herself now. She couldn’t be sure where Rick was. How would she explain herself to the truck’s driver?

Two doors slammed, the engine turned over, and the truck backed up.

A third text message buzzed in Annie’s back pocket. She didn’t have room to reach for the phone.

P
inholes in the tarp where the canvas threads were stretched thin suggested the sun soon would be fully set.

Without access to her cell phone, Annie could only guess at how long she had been squatting in the back of the truck between piles of lumber. Ten minutes? Twenty? The driver left behind city streets for a highway. Annie felt the acceleration and merging sensation that forced her body to lean to one side.

I-25.

But which direction? Even in daylight Annie used the view of the mountains to the west of Colorado Springs to orient herself. Under a tarp in a vehicle that made multiple turns, she had long ago lost any sense of direction. If they were on the way to Denver, she would know where she was when the vehicle finally stopped. From there she could go anywhere she wanted or needed to go. If they were headed south, getting out of Pueblo would not be as easy. Walsenburg would be impossible. Annie pictured herself on the side of the interstate with her thumb out.

She still clutched her denim bag to her chest, her arms now wedged in by her own knees. With her phone, she could give herself a hot spot Internet connection and work on her computer anywhere. At the moment, though, not being able to open her laptop meant the new software at the heart of her flight was being tested. If it withstood the hacking attempts Barrett was surely making at that moment, Annie would know it was secure. Barrett would not be happy when he discovered the changes she made a few hours ago—changes that took protecting her creative work into her own hands. How long would it be before she could decipher his efforts and know that her own work had done its job?

Getting her laptop open under these conditions was physically impossible. If she could get to her cell phone, though, she could get online and discern what Barrett was doing. Inch by inch, she twisted an arm away from her chest and down the side of her torso. She just needed to slip her fingers into her back pocket. She tipped her hip up as far as it would go.

No luck. Just wasn’t going to happen. All she accomplished was scraping her forearm and making her shoulder sore.

She was cut off. Completely. Indefinitely. This had never happened to her before. In resignation, Annie leaned her head against the wood stacked on one side. Mentally she created a list of the first steps she would take as soon as the pickup stopped.

Wherever it stopped.

Lumber creaked with the sway of the bed. Exhaustion engulfed her.

The truck stopped. Annie bolted awake—with no notion of how long she’d slept.

Please, God, don’t let me be in Texas.

A few seconds later, she heard the truck doors open and slam shut again.

“Are you sure you don’t want to unload tonight?”

Annie tried to reconcile the voice with the ones she’d heard earlier and the names they exchanged in the parking lot. Rufus was the deeper voice, Tom the pleasant tenor.

“No Rufus, it’s ten o’clock. That’s late, even for me, and it’s the middle of the night for you.”

“Tom, I hate to tie up your truck,” Rufus said. “I’m sure you have other loads to haul tomorrow.”

“I’ll meet you at my place first thing,” Tom said. “We can go to the job site together. We’ll have more help unloading there. It won’t take long.”

“I hate to say it,” Rufus said, “but the load is probably safest at your place for the night.”

“I don’t understand why Karl Kramer doesn’t leave you alone.” Tom’s voice spat irritation. “You do good work for a fair price.”

“He doesn’t think it’s fair. He thinks I’m underbidding him to force him out of business.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Tell that to Karl Kramer.” Rufus’s rich voice softened.

“I have half a mind to do just that,” Tom said. “But I guess it won’t be tonight. I’d better get home.”

“At least let me get you a glass of lemonade before you get on your way.” Rufus perked up again. “It’s been a long, hot day.”

“I would accept that gladly.”

“Maybe some of
Mamm
‘s peach pie?”

Tom hesitated. “I’d better not. Tricia has me on some newfangled diet.”

The voices drifted away after that, and Annie couldn’t decipher what they said. They were only going for a glass of lemonade. She did not have much time to figure out where she was.

Annie fumbled in the dark for some sort of latch to release the gate. She couldn’t find it. Finally, she ran her hand along the edge of the tarp until she found a hook, unfastened it, climbed over the gate, and hooked the tarp back in place. Crouching beside the truck, she took in her surroundings.

A barn. Definitely not Denver. About forty feet off was a sprawling two-story log home with a dim light emanating from one corner of the first floor. Annie didn’t see any other lights, though she saw the shadows of what looked like a chicken coop and some sort of workshop.

I am in the boondocks.

After a quick stretch, she reached into her back pocket for her phone. A touch on the screen brought it to life.

10:08.

Strong signal bars.

I must be close to someplace.

A horse neighed behind her, making her jump. Annie’s eyes adjusted to the shadows, and the horse nudging the edge of a split-rail fence came into focus.

At least it’s not a yelping dog giving me away.

But did she want to stay here? She would have to sit out the night and figure out where
here
was in the morning. Or she could get back in the truck, uncertain where she would end up. Tom’s place. Where was that?

The horse neighed again at the same time that Annie heard voices returning.

“What does Dolly want?” Tom asked.

“Once she’s in the barn, she’ll settle down,” Rufus answered. “I’ll see you in the morning, Tom. Thanks again for hauling the load.”

Annie’s decision was made. She had no time to climb back into the bed of the truck. She had to get out of sight—now! She dashed through the shadows to the barn’s door, slightly ajar, and slipped inside.

Tom got behind the wheel and started the engine. Rufus slapped the side of the truck as it rolled past him.

“Come on, Dolly,” he said. “Time for bed.”

Annie glanced around the dark barn. There was not so much as a nightlight. As if in response to her presence, a cow mooed and a second horse snorted. Annie had no idea if a barn had a back door, but she felt her way along the stalls, hoping for one nevertheless. Rufus was sure to notice his animals acting strangely. It was just too dark, though, for her to find an escape. The moon outside was barely a sliver, and the barn’s walls were solidly built, admitting no light. The horse snorted again, and a tail swished against a stall wall.

The barn door whined slightly as Rufus opened it wide. Annie froze in place, out of options. With one hand, Rufus led Dolly, and with the other he reached into the darkness. A moment later a gas lantern cracked the shadows. Annie could see now that Rufus would have to walk past her to reach an empty stall.

Dolly pawed the ground with one hoof.

“Come on, girl,” Rufus urged. “I’m tired. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

Annie scanned the barn. A buggy. Two buggies, actually. A large black one and a smaller one, more of a cart. They looked just like the pictures in history books illustrating the nineteenth century.

Her head turned toward Rufus now. Violet-blue eyes gleamed in the lantern’s light, and brown hair fell across his forehead under a hat. Annie blinked at the straw hat then assessed the rest of his clothing—a plain, collarless, long-sleeved dark blue shirt, sturdy black trousers with suspenders, heavy brown work shoes. Her eyes widened. He was
Amish
!