Anathema (36 page)

He grinned at her sweet tone and dropped the key into her hand. “Thanks!” She stabbed the key into the lock and had Caitlin free in moments. Lifting the child in her arms, she relished the weight of her, the smell of her even through the stink of wet mud. Caitlin’s long hair brushed against Hannah’s arms and mingled with her hair. It was hard to tell whose locks were whose. Caitlin looped her arms around Hannah’s neck, and the trust in the movement nearly buckled Hannah’s knees. She sank onto the cot and held the child close.

She would never let her go. Never. And she ’d kill anyone who tried to take her.

twenty-five

“A pure white quilt with excellent stitching is always prized.
My mother was a master of the quilt, and she told me white
was her way of imagining heaven. The Amish strive to lead
pure and holy lives in order to reach God.”

—HANNAH SCHWARTZ,

IN
The Amish Faith Through Their Quilts

H
is grandmother had to know something. It all made a kind of weird sense. Matt gripped the steering wheel and gunned the SUV through the water standing on the road. Ajax whined in the seat behind him. How could Caitlin have disappeared the minute Trudy got her unless she ’d called Reece to come get her? He skidded to a halt in front of the house.

He and Ajax went to the front door. He didn’t knock. “Trudy?” he called, stepping inside. The house was empty, silent. Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen her vehicle outside. Sometimes she kept it in the backyard.

He walked through the house to the back door. Glancing through the window, he saw no sign of his grandmother’s old blue car. “Maybe she went to the grocery store,” he muttered. Ajax woofed as though he understood what Matt said.

He wandered down the hall toward Trudy’s bedroom. Irene had told him to ask Trudy about what had happened between them. How could that matter? He glanced around Trudy’s bedroom. Austere with white walls and bedding, it was immaculate. A prominent wardrobe stood in one corner, one he’d never peeked inside. Maybe now was the time. He stepped to the wardrobe and opened the doors. Stacks of quilts were inside. He pulled one out. It had a hummingbird pattern on it.

Could they be Patricia Schwartz’s quilts? What would Trudy be doing with them? They certainly resembled the ones he ’d seen. A large family album caught his eye. Matt carried it into the kitchen under the light and set it on the counter. Irene had hinted that the seeds of this situation were in the past. Maybe this album would give him some clue.

He started at the front. The first black-and-white picture showed a young couple staring stiffly into the camera. He recognized Trudy. He assumed the man was his grandfather, though Matt had never seen him. He flipped through more pages and saw his father and Irene at various ages. He’d never realized he looked so much like his dad. He ’d study these pictures later. Right now he had to find his daughter. There had to be something here.

He turned the page and stopped at a picture of Irene. Hannah had been right. His aunt was clearly pregnant. She looked as though she was ready to give birth any minute. On the next page, the pictures continued as though her pregnancy had never occurred. He studied the previous picture. From the clothing and hairstyle, Matt guessed the date to be in the early seventies. She still wore the long hair and caftan of her hippie days.

He studied the location. The setting looked familiar to him, but he couldn’t put his finger on where it was. Billie Creek, maybe? Matt tried to remember what his aunt had said about where her commune had been. “Sugar Creek,” he said, snapping his fingers. “That’s what Irene said. But where?” It would be a place to look. Maybe Reece knew about the place.

Matt turned a few more pages and came to another picture taken by the big creek, which more accurately was as big as a river. He studied one of the women in the photograph. She had the look of Hannah, but the clothing was all wrong. This picture would have been snapped before she was born.

Maybe Hannah’s mom? He studied the other couple in the picture—Irene and an Amish guy. Must have been Hannah’s dad on his
rumspringa
. The two sets were clearly paired up by the way they stood. It looked like his dad was seeing Hannah’s mom. He’d never heard that before. He thought back to the arguments in the house before his dad killed himself. It seemed his mom was always unhappy with how much time Dad spent in the barn and away at the greenhouse. Could it have been the Schwartz greenhouse?

“This is a weird tangle,” he muttered. Ajax whined at the stress in his voice, and Matt rubbed the dog’s ears. Maybe Reece gave the quilts to his grandmother, and she ’d been covering for him. Maybe she ’d even handed Caitlin over to him. He flipped through more pages of the album and stopped beside a newspaper clipping of his grandmother in her mid- to late forties. She was standing with a proud smile beside a white quilt. The caption read “Trudy Beitler Takes First Place at the State Fair with Her Hummingbird Quilt.”

Matt carried the album into the light so he could see the quilt better. It looked exactly like the pattern Hannah’s mother was famous for. Had she imitated Trudy’s pattern—and found even more success with it? Was that part of the reason for his grandmother’s hatred of the Amish?

He heard a vehicle in the back and rushed to look out the window. His grandmother’s old car was rolling over the ruts. He started toward the door, but Trudy got out, grabbed a cooler, and hopped back into the vehicle again. What was she doing? He decided not to let her know what he ’d seen just yet. He’d follow her and see if she led him to Reece and Caitlin.

Matt grabbed the photo album and ran for the SUV. Her car had rumbled away down the back lane, which meandered across an abandoned covered bridge. Where could she be heading? He waited until his grandmother’s old car disappeared into the trees, then set out along the lane in the direction she’d gone.

There wasn’t much out this way. Forest and steep hills. No real roads even. The land bordered Turkey Run State Park, and his grandmother had turned away every developer who’d come calling. He had time to ensure he wasn’t seen. Trudy owned nearly five hundred acres out this way. He used to hike back here—until she found out. She didn’t like anyone back here but her. And even then, he could count on one hand the times he’d seen her trek this way.

The SUV rumbled over the bridge, but he wasn’t sure the old structure would hold up anything coming back. The thing was falling down. If Trudy wanted to keep it, she ’d have to do some repair. Rather, he ’d have to do some repair.

He came to a fork in the road. “Now which way?” he said to Ajax. The dog whined. Matt got out and looked at the muddy track. “That way,” he said, pointing to the left. “Toward the creek.”

Matt got back in the SUV and turned the vehicle onto an even narrower lane logged with water. He was surprised his grandmother had the nerve to drive this way by herself in a car. The route begged for a four-wheel-drive. She could get stuck back here and never be seen again. The trees encased Matt like a tunnel. The maples and walnut trees grew so high they met above the SUV and turned the landscape to twilight. He could only go five miles an hour without bottoming out.

The road, if you could call it that, came to an abrupt end. Trudy’s battered blue car was parked just ahead. She wasn’t in it. Matt peered inside the vehicle, then turned back to his SUV and let Ajax out. He took the dog to the driver’s side of Trudy’s car. “Find her, boy.”

The dog’s nose plunged toward the ground, and his tail began to wag. The jerk on the leash nearly toppled Matt, but he regained his footing and followed along with Ajax on his run to the south. The surroundings were as dark as if it were nine o’clock at night. The mosquitoes began to descend in hordes, and he wished he ’d taken the time to put on some repellent.

The dog led him down ravines, and they splashed across creeks swollen with rain. “I don’t know how she had the strength to go this far,” Matt said, panting when they paused to catch their breath. Ajax was straining at the leash again, so they were probably close behind her. “Let’s get our bearings before we go any farther.”

SUNLIGHT FILTERED THROUGH the dirty windows of the old shack. Hannah sat on the cot with Caitlin on her lap. The creek outside had crescendoed to a roar, and vibrations of water hitting rock rattled the wooden structure.

“When are we leaving, Reece?” she asked.

“Soon.”

He seemed nervous, checking his watch every few seconds and going to look out the window. Hannah wondered what he was waiting for. He had her and Caitlin, and there seemed no reason to hang around while the flood-waters rose. Though this old place had been here for years, the forecasters had warned of near-record flood conditions all over the county. Hanging around Sugar Creek seemed a stupid thing to do.

She rose with her daughter in her arms. “Let’s go now. I’m hungry, and I’m sure Caitlin is too.”

His eyes narrowed. “What about me? I haven’t eaten either. You never think about me, Hannah.”

“I’m sorry to complain. I know we’re all tired, hungry, and grouchy.” She smiled up at him. “I’m just eager to get out of here and start our life together, the three of us.”

His glare softened. “Soon.” He turned when the door opened.

Trudy Beitler stepped into the shack. She shut the door behind her. Mud caked the Wellington boots she wore, and debris littered her old jeans and checked shirt. She could have passed for a lumberjack except for the long gray braid hanging over one shoulder. Her gaze perused Reece, then moved on to Hannah, who stood with Caitlin wrapped around her like a little monkey.

“Grandma Trudy!” Caitlin unwound her legs from Hannah and slid down to run to her grandmother.

Trudy shoved her away. “Go back to your mother.”

“Come here, Caitlin.” Hannah held out her arms. The older woman wasn’t here to rescue them. Hannah didn’t know how this whole plan was going to play out, but she realized Trudy was no ally.

Her expression confused, Caitlin glanced back at Hannah, then up at her grandmother. “Are you going to take me home, Grandma?”

“I told you to go to your mother. No, I’m not taking you home. You’re right where you should be.” She dropped the small cooler she carried onto the wooden floor.

“Where were you?” Reece asked. “I did what you said and brought Hannah here. I thought you’d be here to say good-bye. I need to get going before Matt tracks us here.”

“I think not. Sit.” She pointed at the cot. “You’ve done well, Reece,” she said. “You did everything I asked of you.”

“Thanks for helping me figure this out, Trudy. But I didn’t need the kid after all. Hannah came back to me of her own free will.” His triumphant smile beamed from above his beard.

Trudy glanced at Hannah, and the chill in her gaze froze Hannah’s veins. “I need you to run an errand, Reece. I forgot the money at the house. It’s in the cookie jar on top of the refrigerator.”

“I’ve got enough. I don’t need it,” he said.

“I want to make sure you have enough for a fresh start. Run get it, and then you can disappear. It won’t take long.”

Hannah didn’t trust the other woman. She wanted to beg Reece not to leave her alone with Trudy, but he shrugged and went to the door.

“I won’t be long.”

Trudy nodded. “I’ll be here waiting.”

Silence stretched out in the sugar shack. Hannah tried to make sense of it all. Why would Trudy help Reece get Caitlin and lure her here?

THEY WERE ATOP a hillside, so Matt planted one foot on a fallen tree and stared through the gloom in all directions. He caught a break in the trees. “I think there ’s a cabin over there,” he said to Ajax. He took out his topo map and consulted it. The map said there was an abandoned sugar shack this way.

“Let’s check it out.” Matt and Ajax plunged down the hillside. “Quiet, Ajax,” he told his dog. He didn’t want any barking to give them away.

As they neared the structure, he recognized it from the pictures in Trudy’s album. He started toward a window, intending to peer inside and see if Trudy was there, but the door opened and Reece stepped out. Matt ducked out of sight, watching as the other man went up the trail toward where Trudy had parked the car. Great, maybe Matt could slip in and rescue his daughter and Hannah without any gunplay.

When Reece was out of sight, he rose and moved toward the shack. The door opened again, and his grandmother stepped out. With a gun. His gaze went to the weapon in her hand. It was pointing at him. “It’s just me, Trudy. You can put that peashooter away.”

“I don’t think I can, Matthew. Ease your gun out and drop it on the ground.”

The hard, inflexible voice she used struck Matt in the heart. “Trudy, what are you doing?”

Her finger tightened on the trigger. “Do what you’re told. You’re too much like your mother, always questioning things. Next time I’ll shoot out your kneecap. Now do what I say.”

Matt struggled to make sense of this world gone mad. His grandmother held him at gunpoint. He’d stepped through a rabbit hole into another dimension. He glanced down at Ajax. Would he obey an attack command? Probably not. The dog had been trained to protect his grandmother, not attack her.

“Drop your gun,” she said again. “And if the dog moves, I’ll shoot him.”

Matt pulled out his gun and dropped it into the mud. “What’s this all about?”

Trudy stepped away from the door and gestured with the gun. “Inside.”

Matt let his contempt show in his eyes. He strode into the shack and stood in the doorway while his eyes adjusted to the dim light. Ajax trotted close beside him.

“Daddy!”

He swung toward his daughter’s voice. He ’d never heard such a sweet sound as her voice in that moment. “Caitlin?” Moments later, she was climbing his legs. He swung her up against his chest, and she clasped her arms around his neck. Ajax barked and danced around them as if he wanted his turn with her. “Quiet, Ajax.” The dog stilled and lay down under the window.