Hannah opened the door. The woman’s eyes widened, and her mouth pressed into a thin line. Her gaze traveled from Hannah’s tight bun to her shapeless skirt and flat shoes. “Who are you?” she demanded.
“I’m, um, I’m renting this house. I had the dead bolt locked.”
The woman dismissed her with a jut of her chin. “I need to pick up a few things.” She started past Hannah, who stood her ground. “Excuse me? I need to get past.”
“I think you’d better tell me who you are first.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake! I’m Matt’s sister-in-law, okay? I left some things in the attic I need. I used to rent this dump.”
Hannah thrust her hand into the pocket of her skirt and withdrew her cell phone. She’d programmed Matt’s cell number into it.
He answered on the first ring. “Hannah, everything okay?”
“Well, your sister-in-law is here.”
“Vanessa? What’s she want?” He growled the words.
“She says she left some things in the attic and needs them.” Hannah glanced at Vanessa, who stood tapping one high-heeled foot on the porch. She had her arms crossed over her chest.
“Let me talk to her.”
Hannah handed Vanessa the phone. “He wants to talk to you.”
The woman heaved a sigh and grabbed the phone. “Matt, it’s not a big deal. I just need my stuff.” She went quiet and listened. “How dare you? There was an Elie Tahari dress in that container. And my favorite pair of Manolo Blahnik shoes.”
Hannah could have sworn there were actually tears in the woman’s eyes. Evidently Vanessa had some hidden pain to react so strongly to the loss of things.
Vanessa handed the cell phone back. “What are you staring at?” she snapped.
Hannah smiled. “You’re very beautiful,” she said.
The hostility faded from Vanessa’s eyes. “Have we met? You look familiar.”
“I don’t think so. But I was married to Reece O’Connor.”
“Ah.” Vanessa nodded. “The Amish girl. I remember now. How is Reece anyway?”
“We’re separated.”
Vanessa’s lips curved up. “How delicious. That should cause a stir.”
Hannah winced. The woman knew how to place her darts. She said nothing.
“So why are you here? You and Matt having a little fling? If you are, you’re a brave woman to tackle Iceman. Since Analise died, he’s hardly human.” Vanessa opened her bag and withdrew a slim cigarette. She lit it and blew the smoke Hannah’s way.
The first puff of tobacco stung Hannah’s eyes, and she took a step back. Matt was widowed? “Of course we’re not having a fling. I’m his, um, renter.” She wasn’t about to air her secrets to this woman.
“You’re hardly his type. Look, let me come in and just look around.” Vanessa’s smile was winsome. “Matt might be bluffing about my things.”
“In the short time I’ve known him, I’ve never seen him bluff about anything.” Hannah had seen only quick, decisive behavior.
Vanessa put one shapely foot into the doorway. “Please? Just a minute?” Ajax growled low in his throat and took a step toward her. She hastily withdrew her leg. “That dog didn’t like me from day one.”
“I’m sorry, I really can’t let you in without Matt’s permission. You want to call him back and talk about it?”
Vanessa took another draw on her cigarette, then stubbed it out against the door frame. “It’s all spite, you know. He never liked me even when he and Analise were married. They were such bores once the kid came along.” Vanessa shrugged. “I guess I’ll go if you’re not going to let me in. Tell Matt he can take a flying leap.”
Hannah wanted to say there was nothing between her and Matt, but Vanessa’s heels were already clicking along the sidewalk to her car, a cherryred sports car of some kind. Hannah didn’t know much about cars, but she knew enough to recognize something expensive.
She heard a familiar rumble. A glimpse of that tan truck Reece had been driving made her grab the door and slam it. Stepping to the window, she peered through the curtain. The pickup sat idling beside Vanessa’s car. Vanessa gestured back toward the house, and Reece took a long, slow look. Hannah jerked away from the window. She peeked out again when she heard a door slam. He was striding up the walk.
She ran to the door and threw the dead bolt. Ajax sensed her agitation and shook off the cats. He padded to her side, and a warning growl rumbled from his chest. “Quiet,” she whispered. She peered out the peephole and saw Reece grinning at her.
“I know you’re in there, Hannah,” he said, his voice calm. “Open the door and let’s talk.”
“Go away,” she shouted through the door. “I have nothing to say to you.”
“Look, I know you’re mad, honey. I don’t blame you. But we’ve got our daughter to think about. She needs both of us. We can work this out.”
“I don’t want to be anywhere near you,” she said fiercely. “You don’t have our daughter anyway. It’s a lie.”
He rattled the door. “Let me in, Hannah. I’ve changed. I won’t hurt you.”
“You pushed me down the stairs!” He’d told her things would be different so many times. She knew better than to believe him.
“It was an accident, Hannah. I think you’re remembering it wrong.” He rattled the door again. “Come on, let’s have some tea and talk. Or we can go out for coffee. You’ll be in public and in no danger.”
Could he be right? She didn’t know what to believe. She could have sworn she’d felt him shove her. And there was no question that he’d hit her. Many times. “Where’s the girl, Reece?” she asked quietly. “Tell me that and maybe I’ll open the door.”
“You’re trying to trick me. We’re one package. Me and the kid, Hannah. Take us both or neither one. I know what’s best.”
If she’d heard that once, she’d heard it a million times. She stared at the doorknob. If she could trust him to lead her to the little girl, she would be tempted to open it. Ajax growled again and pushed against her leg. The dog’s warning made her back away. “Go away, Reece. I’m not going to talk to you anymore.” She rushed from the door down the hall to the bathroom, where she shut herself in and clapped her hands over her ears so she couldn’t be tempted to give in.
SIX DAYS AFTER Moe’s murder, Matt still had no leads. He leaned back in his chair at the sheriff’s department with his hands clasped at the back of his neck. “There doesn’t seem to be a clear link between Moe Honegger’s murder and the Schwartz deaths.”
“Other than they were both poisoned with strychnine,” Blake said. “Come on, that’s a clear connection. Not the most common method of murder.”
“Copycat? It’s well-known about the poison,” Matt suggested. He pulled the computer keyboard toward him and called up a screen. “There has been only one homicide in the past ten years—a spousal murder.”
Blake looked up. “And now Reece is back in town and we have another. That has to mean something. Was he ever suspected at the time of the Schwartz murders?”
Matt’s gaze met his partner’s. “He was a detective at the time of the first murders, so no.”
“And he eloped with the only daughter. You think that ever would have happened if the parents were alive?”
“He was with Hannah when her family was killed.” Though Hannah had said he was late. But late enough to have done the deed?
Blake dropped into a chair. “Think about it. He could have helped Long dispose of the quilts, then rushed to meet her at the bridge while the strychnine did its work. We know he was in the area, because he met Hannah at the bridge. The house wasn’t far.”
“Frankly, I don’t know why the quilts were taken. They’ve never been sold.” Matt scratched his head. “It doesn’t make any sense. If we could just find those quilts.”
“They might have been taken as a trophy. You know how some killers take something belonging to their victims.”
“Maybe.”
“He was
in the area. It wouldn’t have taken long to load the quilts. They could have been in the back of his truck all along while you were searching. You must have suspected something.”
If only he’d been that observant. Matt shook his head. “I didn’t. I noticed how distracted he was, all worried about Hannah. When he ran off with her, I realized it was because he was crazy in love with her.”
“Weird, don’t you think? An Amish girl like that.”
“Yeah.”
“What’d she ever see in Reece? She’s a looker under those shapeless clothes and scraped-back hair.”
Matt had noticed too. Long ago. “You’re a married man. You’re not supposed to look.”
“I’m married, but I’m not dead.”
Matt wanted to ask if Blake was having an affair as Gina suspected, but maintaining a partnership with his brother-in-law had become a balancing act.
Blake’s face changed as though he’d suddenly been struck with a thought. “What if they did it together?”
“What?”
“Maybe Hannah wanted out from under her parents’ thumb and talked Reece into doing the deed. Or she did it so she could marry him.”
“It would be unusual for anyone Amish to be involved in a violent act.”
“But not unheard of. Wasn’t there some guy in Ohio who killed his wife or something?”
“Yeah, anyone can snap.” Matt rubbed his eyes. “I followed that idea for a while back then, but I was never able to tie Hannah to the purchase of poison. Everyone talked very highly of her. There was no evidence linking her to Long except the fact that they were neighbors. And to tell you the truth, I just don’t buy it.”
“We can check into her background—see what she’s been doing in the ten years she’s been gone.”
“Focus on Reece. I think that holds more possibilities.” Still, Matt didn’t want to believe that either. The guy had been his partner. And a foster brother. Reece had a temper at times, but didn’t everyone? Hannah said he’d beaten her. Maybe you never really knew someone, who they were inside.
Just like the partner sitting right across from him. He had to bring this out in the open between them. “How’s Gina?”
“Whoa, where did that come from? She’s fine.”
Matt pinned Blake with his stare. “She thinks you’re having an affair, Blake. Tell me straight up. Are you?”
Blake looked away. “What if I said I was?”
Matt sagged back in his chair. He hadn’t wanted to believe it. “Who?”
“Vanessa. Your sister-in-law.”
Matt bolted upright. “You’ve got to be kidding. She’s a man shark, buddy.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know how it happened. It just did.”
Matt clenched his fists. “You idiot! This will kill my sister.”
“I know, I know. I’m in a mess. She’s pregnant, so what can I do?”
Matt found no pity in his heart for his partner. “You’re stupid if you believe that. Vanessa is playing you, man. She came by my house today.”
Blake scowled. “What was she doing there?”
“Looking for some containers of clothes and shoes. I gave them to the Salvation Army.”
“She’ll be steamed. What’d you go and do that for?”
“I don’t run a storage service. I told her at least six times to come get them. She moved out of the place over six months ago, and it’s been rented out since then. She had plenty of time to get them. Man, you’re stupid if you can’t see you’re giving up gold for pot metal.”
Blake wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Look, if she says she’s pregnant, I believe her.”
“Yeah, right. She doesn’t like kids.”
“I’m trying to figure things out, okay? My marriage is important to me.”
“Not important enough to keep your pants zipped.” Matt’s voice vibrated with anger.
Blake flushed. “Just shut up. It’s none of your business.”
“Look, we’ve been friends a long time, Blake. And this is my sister we’re talking about. I want the best for both of you. And that’s not Vanessa.”
“You don’t know her that well.”
Matt rolled his eyes. “Please. She was a thorn in my flesh for the seven years I was married to Analise.”
“She just made you mad over Caitlin.”
“Is that what she told you? Ask her how she mocked her own sister after two miscarriages. Or the way she talked about Caitlin as though she were some piece of trash not worthy to be part of our family.” If the woman was going around bad-mouthing his family, he’d strangle her. “Let’s not talk about her.”
“You brought her up.”
“My mistake.” Matt pulled the mouse toward him and began to look at the evidence again. At least solving crimes was something he understood.
FOURTEEN
“The Drunkard’s Path Quilt is a symbol of the journey. To the Amish, their journey is to live a life pleasing to God. They believe you can’t know your path will end in heaven and that it’s presumptuous to think you can. The decision is up to God.”
—HANNAH SCHWARTZ,
IN The Amish Faith Through Their Quilts
Quilting calmed her. Occupied by a needle and thread, Hannah’s hands had finally quit shaking after Reece’s appearance. She studied the block in her hands. The quilt was taking shape. She tied the Triangle Quilt to the three things the Amish held dear: God, their families, and their communities.
Hannah loved the colors. Each set of two rows featured the dark and light opposites of each other—dark blue and light blue, dark green and light green, dark red and light red—all against black triangles that caused the colors to pop. This was the quilt that had to be on the cover of the book. No one could understand the Amish faith without understanding how those three elements shaped their culture.
“I heard from FOX & Friends,” Angie said. “They were so impressed with their interview, they want to come here for a show. Tape you in the kitchen with some traditional Amish food, film the house and greenhouse, that kind of thing.”
Hannah laid the quilt piece in her lap. “No. I told you no publicity while we’re here.”
Angie rolled her eyes. “Hannah, you have to do this! Do you have any idea how huge this is? We can’t turn this down.” She folded her arms across her chest. “I already told them yes. They’re coming next Friday. Your aunt will let you come out there. And it would be good publicity for your cousin’s greenhouse.”
“Luca doesn’t want publicity. No one here does. Don’t you get it, Angie? We are content with what God gives us.” Or she used to be. When had the desire for more crept in? When the first awestruck reader e-mailed her? When she made her first TV appearance?
“You owe it to your publisher. You can’t turn down something like this. It could translate into tens of thousands of copies sold, Hannah. This is just too big. After this is over, if you want to step back and take a break, I’ll go along with it. But we can’t turn up our noses at this.”
Maybe Angie was right. Didn’t she owe it to her publisher to do everything she could to sell the books? But she wanted to be sensitive to her family’s beliefs. How could she walk that tightrope? It was hard enough being an outsider. After just a few days of this treatment, she could see why some came back to the Amish faith. She missed the love, the community.
“All right,” she said. “But tell them they can’t tape Aunt Nora or any other Amish person.”
“If you explained it to Sarah, maybe she would let us tape the children. They’re so cute.”
“No, absolutely not! I won’t even ask her.” Hannah shuddered at the thought.
“Okay, fine.” Angie’s voice held disgust as she stood. “I’m going to run downtown. I need to email your publicity shot.”
“Could you drop me at Aunt Nora’s? I really need to talk to her about this whole mess, see what she knows.” Hannah rubbed her head. “Oh wait, it’s Monday. She always goes to visit her friends on Monday.”
&n
bsp; “You need to work anyway.”
“I need some inspiration. There’s a quilt fair going on at the dime store two blocks over. I think I’ll take a look.”
Angie frowned. “I’m not sure it’s safe.”
“I’ll be in a crowd. Call me when you’re ready to come back and I’ll meet you at the curb.” The cats entwined themselves around her ankles, but she booted them out of the way, then grabbed her purse and joined Angie at the door, locking it behind them.
Angie let her out in front of the dime store, then drove on. Hannah stopped to glance at the quilts in the window. The traditional solid jewel tones shimmered against the black background. Looking at them made her want to keep working on her own, just as she’d hoped.
She slipped into the busy store and made her way to the back, where other women were admiring the quilt display. Some were only for display, but she stopped beside a stack of quilts for sale. Her hand smoothed the top one, its cotton fabric soft and lustrous. She lifted it aside and began to sort through them. It was a habit she couldn’t stop. The hope of finding one of her mother’s never left her.
After reverently looking through the stacks, she realized there was nothing of her mother’s here. Someone had those quilts. Their disappearance was the one piece that didn’t fit in the puzzle she’d stitched together convicting Reece of the crime. If he’d killed her family, what had he done with the quilts? If he’d sold them, they would have turned up on the market somewhere. She’d been everywhere, looked online and at flea markets, studied other museums’ collections. Not one had ever come to light.
Her obsession with finding them had infuriated Reece. Had he kept them from her deliberately to exert control over her?
She made her way back into the fresh air. Surely he wouldn’t have destroyed something so valuable, but she had no other explanation. She was so lost in her thoughts, she nearly collided with a figure on the sidewalk. Strong hands gripped her shoulders and steadied her. She looked up into Matt’s face.