Amish Christmas Abduction. Dana R. Lynn

all of their mortality.

      The only good thing was that Mary slept through the transfer as Irene passed her off to the nurse who would finish cleaning up the child before turning her over to the police. Irene knew Sergeant Zee. The woman was competent and kind. She had also been a caretaker for her grandmother for a while. She would take good care of Mary.

      If Mary let her.

      Well, that wasn’t Irene’s problem. She tried to keep her mind from focusing on the little girl.

      “Irene.”

      Oh, yeah. Paul.

      She turned, lifting an eyebrow in question. In place of his normal unruffled demeanor, his brow was furrowed. He was a troubled man.

      “I may need you to come in and look at the files to see if you recognize the man who attacked you if no one else can. I will check with his neighbors first. If we can’t identify him, I will need to schedule an appointment with the forensic artist to come up with a good sketch we can pass around.”

      “Okay. I can stop by the station tomorrow, if you need me to.”

      Jace interrupted, “We won’t be able to have anyone work with the artist until next week. You remember? Tara had surgery and won’t be back until then.”

      Paul’s mouth twisted. “I had forgotten. Well, if all works out, he’ll be someone already in our database. Wouldn’t that make life easier?”

      Neither responded. Nor did he seem to expect a response.

      “Come on, sis. I’ll drive you home.”

      Irene started to head out with her brother. Then she stopped and turned to find Paul’s deep brown eyes trained on her. His short dark hair was practically standing on end in places. He’d been running his hands through it. This had been a stressful evening for all of them.

      “Paul? Thank you. I mean it. You saved my life tonight.”

      He nodded and flashed her a weary smile. “Anytime, Irene. I’m glad I was in the area.”

      Feeling they’d said everything that needed to be said, she left the room. She was so worn-out that she closed her eyes the moment she was seated in the passenger seat of Jace’s cruiser.

      All she wanted to do was go in and hug her boys. She needed to reassure herself that they were safe and happy. The image of little Mary with her bloodstained clothing was burned into her brain. She would remember that sight for the rest of her life.

      At her mother’s house, she marched quickly up the walk and in through the front door. Jace had obviously salted the sidewalk and steps, she was happy to note. Her mom met her in the kitchen. Irene endured her mother’s scrutiny with as much patience as she could gather. Her mother needed the same reassurance she did.

      “Mom, where are the boys?”

      “They’re watching a Christmas movie.” Melanie Tucker, Jace’s wife, moved into the kitchen, holding her year-old daughter, Ellie, in her arms.

      Irene let the tension roll off her shoulders. She was safe. They were safe. She stepped past her sister-in-law, running a finger down her niece’s cheek.

      In the living room, she heard the soft voices of her children. A sudden rush of tears caught her off guard. She struggled for control. They had almost lost her. If Paul Kennedy had been farther away, this night might have had a whole different ending. For the first time in a long time, she felt as if she was being watched over. She shrugged the feeling off.

      And thought again of that little girl, left alone. What would become of her?

      Then another thought struck. Would the man be able to find out who she was? He’d seen her at the neighbor’s house. She had been carrying a bag with the Early Intervention logo on it.

      Irene hugged her arms close to her. Would he come looking for her?

      The day had started with so much hope. Now it was turning into a nightmare. As long as that man stayed at large, she didn’t know how she would ever feel that she and her children were safe.

       THREE

      “Chief, you need to come out here.”

      Paul shifted so his phone was wedged between his shoulder and his chin as he shrugged back into his coat. Sergeant Olsen’s voice was slightly muffled, but he could still hear the words clearly. Jerking his shoulder to adjust the fit of the coat, he took the cell phone back in his hand and strode out the sliding doors and back into the cold, snowy night.

      “I’m heading out now, Olsen. Just needed to wait for Sergeant Zee to get here.” He felt a little guilty. She had no idea what was coming when Mary woke up. Maybe it would be fine and Mary would take to her the way she had to Irene. Maybe. But, somehow, he doubted it.

      Thinking of Irene left a hollow feeling in his stomach. Was she safe? Jace would have called if something more had happened. But he couldn’t get the image of the bearded man out of his mind. He didn’t look like a man who would give up. One thing was sure—Paul wouldn’t be able to focus as long as Irene was still in danger. He grabbed his phone and put in a call, directing that someone would drive past her house each hour. Being the chief of police definitely had its perks.

      At the scene, he parked his cruiser in the driveway behind Olsen’s vehicle. It was obvious that the driveway had not been plowed in the past few hours. He couldn’t really tell if he was on the pavement or on the grass. Not that it mattered.

      “Chief.” Olsen trudged through the snow to meet him. “Jackson is with the neighbors right now. The people who called nine-one-one. I figured you might want to go over. And then there are some things in the house I want your opinion on.”

      Paul nodded. “Right. I’ll head right over.” He lifted his gaze to the house. It looked dark and ghoulish at night, very poorly lit. It had obviously not been kept up. Just what horrors did it hide inside? The sooner they finished processing this scene, the easier he would feel.

      Sergeant Jackson was still talking to the family when Paul entered the room.

      “Sir, this is Mr. and Mrs. Zilcher. They called in the shots when the man started shooting after Irene. I mean, Mrs. Martello.”

      Paul focused in on the stressed faces of the young couple. What a way to spend their evening.

      “Folks, thanks for calling it in. Mrs. Martello is safe, no doubt because you were so brave.” That was certainly true. He shuddered to think what would have happened if the couple hadn’t notified the police. He wouldn’t have known to head in this direction, and Irene...

      He took in a deep breath, noticing that everyone was staring at him. Now was not the time to think of Irene. Pushing thoughts of the lovely widow out of his mind, he recommitted himself to getting to the bottom of the case. As soon as humanly possible. With lots of Divine help.

      Lord, I place Irene, my officers, that child, and all involved in Your hands.

      “Do you know the people who live in that house?”

      Mrs. Zilcher bit her lip, then she ducked her head, as if ashamed. “I know it sounds bad, but we avoided them. They seemed, I don’t know... Honey?”

      She turned to her husband.

      “The first time we saw them, the younger man—not the one who fired the shots—yelled at our older son for playing too near their property. Now, Joel is only six. He wasn’t doing any harm, but that man scared him so much that ever since, we have just avoided them at all costs.”

      Paul nodded. It made sense. “And would I be correct to assume that your son never went near the house again?”

      “Chief, this has always been a very safe area. But in the past two months since they arrived, I don’t even let him go outside in the backyard alone. And it’s fenced in.”