Plain Secrets. Kit Wilkinson

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Plain Secrets - Kit Wilkinson


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      He walked back to the front door and checked that it was secure. She hoped that he had put away his gun. He must remember that guns were verboten. Although there was something—a dark object—in his hands. As he moved back to the kitchen, she saw that it was a black broad-rimmed hat like the one Amish men wore when they weren’t working in the sun. She wanted to ask him where he’d gotten it, but there was a more pressing question at hand. “Do you intend to stay awhile?”

      Eli frowned taking a look down at the hat, which he then tossed onto the tabletop. “No, I don’t—just long enough to figure out what’s going on. According to my little cousin, this hat belongs to our shooter.”

      “Sure.” She lifted a brow and glared at him. “An Amish man with a gun. Shooting at my house. Maybe you’ve forgotten but we don’t have or use guns.”

      He gave her a dissatisfied look. “Any joker off the street can buy one of these hats in a tourist shop or online.”

      Right. Hannah dropped her head.

      “So, let’s get started, shall we? Who is shooting at you and why?”

      Eli didn’t sound angry, but in his eyes, she could see how uncomfortable he was to be there, talking to her again. She told herself that that was why he was being so abrupt, so different from the boy she remembered. She also told herself—and tried to believe—that his detached tone didn’t hurt.

      “I have no idea.” And that was the truth. “In fact, maybe that someone was shooting at you? Your life involves guns much more often than mine, does it not? Or maybe it was a hunter with a bad aim?”

      He tilted his head to the other side. “Except that it’s not hunting season. You said yourself no one around here owns a gun. And for the other possibility, well…if someone wanted to shoot at me they would have better opportunities than driving out to Lancaster County and aiming through the woods.”

      She let out a nervous laugh. “Then it must be a mistake. Who would shoot at me?”

      “A mistake?” His face was grim as he pulled his pistol from under his jacket, did something with it that made some clicking sounds, then returned it to his side. He looked up at her again and clenched his jaw. “Two shots within inches of each other, that’s no mistake.”

      Hannah turned away and continued to stall the conversation. “Your weapon should be outside.”

      “Someone just shot at you. The gun stays here with me where I can use it.”

      “Then maybe you should go.” She lifted her head high as if to challenge him.

      “Gladly, just as soon as you tell me what’s going on around here.”

      “I do not know what you mean.”

      “I’m talking about your stepdaughter’s death and someone shooting at you.” He folded his hands over his chest. “I’m here to investigate what happened to Jessica.”

      His words sent a quiver over her lips, but she fought through it. She would not cry in front of Elijah Miller. “Again, you—you must be mistaken. There was not to be an investigation. There was…nothing to investigate.”

      Elijah tossed a photo on the table next to the black hat. “Her neck was cut. She’s bruised all over. Four days later someone is shooting at you and you say there is nothing to investigate?”

      “How did you get that?” She glanced at the photo, immediately recognizing the wound to her dear girl’s neck. Grabbing at her stomach, she turned away. She must be strong. There was no need to involve Elijah in this.

      “Chief McClendon of the Lancaster police.” Eli removed the photo from the table and put it away in his jacket pocket. “He asked me to come here and see what I could find out.”

      “And what do you find so far?”

      “I think there is something to investigate. I think you should talk to me. This is no game, Hannah. You need to protect yourself. Someone is threatening you and your family. You cannot sit and be silent.”

      “I know you want to help. And it’s very kind of you.” She forced a smile. “But it’s not our way. We will accept what has happened.”

      “It’s not very kind of me. I don’t want to be here one bit. But it’s my job and I take that pretty seriously. Now please stop avoiding my questions and tell me how and when all this started.”

      She glanced at him and saw the frustration but also sorrow in his eyes. Like so many years ago when she told him she’d decided to marry Peter. Then, too, she had not told him the entire truth. Here she was again, keeping secrets. But she had promised and she must keep her word.

      She fetched a broom and dustpan from the cupboard, and with short, quick strokes, she began to sweep the broken glass that covered the floor. “Even if there was more to the story, it does not change the fact that Jessica is gone. So what is there to investigate?”

      “Perhaps something about this black car that you know about but don’t know about?”

      She continued to sweep, not looking his way. He watched her for a few moments, then moved next to her and gently took the broom and dustpan from her hand.

      She still refused to look up as she said, “We are all fine. Really.”

      “Really? Someone just shot at your house. That doesn’t seem so ‘fine’ to me. I haven’t forgotten the way things work around here. I understand that you want to let go and accept what has happened. I’m not trying to stop that—in fact, you may be able to let go more easily if you know what happened. Don’t you even care about who killed your stepdaughter?”

      “Of course I care. I miss her every minute. She was everything to me.” Hannah began to tremble again, but she would not give in to her emotions. She would not show such weakness of faith. “But knowledge does not bring peace and understanding. That comes only from God.”

      The back of his hand caressed her cheek. The warmth was comforting, and for a strange, fleeting second, she longed to fall into his arms and weep. Instead she turned away.

      He stepped back. “I wish this wasn’t why I was here. I’m so sorry. I know you raised Jessica as your own child. I can’t imagine what you are feeling and after what happened to Peter…”

      She looked up and he must have been able to read the surprise in her face.

      “Abigail told me. As a midwife, she has a cell phone in order for her patients to contact her when they go into labor. We talk occasionally. She told me about Peter.” He pressed his lips together. “He was a good man, Hannah. If he hadn’t been, I… Well, that was a long time ago. I didn’t come here to rake up the past. You must want to know what happened Jessica. So please, come sit with me. Talk to me. Tell me about her. She must have been a wonderful good girl with you as her Mamm.”

      With all of the charisma and ease he’d possessed as a young man, Eli put the broom and dustpan aside and led her back to the kitchen table. But she did not take a seat.

      “Perhaps we should go to the porch?” she suggested.

      “I don’t think the porch is a good place for you today.” He pulled out a chair for her. After she sat, he removed his coat and hung it over the back of one of the other kitchen chairs and sat opposite her. His gun was still in the holster at his side.

      “Have you forgotten everything, Elijah Miller? We don’t have guns in our houses.”

      “Actually, it’s you who has forgotten that someone shot at you only fifteen minutes ago.” He smiled and patted the gun under his arm. “It’s staying right where it is.”

      “Nana Ruth will be horror-struck.”

      “Nana Ruth will never know.” Eli’s ridiculous expression nearly caused her to giggle. She lifted a hand to her mouth to cover her slight smile.

      “Please,


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