Hidden Mercies (26 page)

It seemed like he’d been asleep only a few minutes when Rocky started barking like crazy. He wasn’t particularly worried. The sun had not yet risen. Perhaps the girl had returned and was going back to her bedroom the way she’d come out.

He went back to sleep, but a few seconds later, there was a knock on his door.

He jumped out of bed, yanked on some jeans, grabbed Rocky’s collar, and opened the door. Claire stood there wearing a robe. Her hair hung over one shoulder in a loose, nighttime braid. There was a wild look in her eyes.

“Have you seen Maddy?” she asked. “She shares a room with Sarah. Sarah woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom and couldn’t find her big sister. She came to get me. I checked and Maddy’s bed has not been slept in.”

He checked the clock. It was 2:15. “Rocky woke me up and I saw her climbing out her window and down the oak tree. A car picked her up. She was dressed
Englisch
.”

Claire’s expression went from fear to accusation. “And you didn’t
tell
me?”

“I figured she was on
Rumspringa
and you were turning a blind eye while she went through her ‘running around’ time.”

“I don’t ‘turn a blind eye’ when it comes to my children!” Claire said. “That might be some parents’ choice, but not mine! I watch and I pray and I teach! You should have told me!”

“It was none of my business.”

“How could it not be your business when you see a child endangering herself?” Claire said. “It should be everyone’s business!”

“You’ll have to excuse me. I’ve seen boys in uniform only two years older than Maddy engaged in house-to-house combat in Iraq.”

“It’s different with girls,” she said. “They can be so silly and trusting at that age.”

At that moment, her pager buzzed.

Claire yanked it from her robe. “I don’t recognize the number.”

“Here.” He handed her his cell phone. “Use this.”

Claire put her hands behind her back and shook her head. “I do not know how to use this device.”

“Give me the number and I’ll make the call.”

After the first ring, he tried to hand it to Claire, but she put her hands behind her back.

He put the cell phone to his ear.

“Hello?” a young girl’s voice whispered. “Claire?”

“This is Tom,” he said.

“This is Maddy. I—I need a ride. I’m, um, locked inside an upstairs bathroom.”

He did not bother to ask why she was locked inside a bathroom. He was afraid he knew. “Where is the house?”

She gave hurried directions.

“Stay where you are. Keep the door locked. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

“Please hurry,” she begged as he hung up.

“Where is she?” Claire said.

“I’ll show you. We need to go.”

“I should get dressed.”

He hated to say it, but it was necessary. “I don’t think we have time.”

He jerked a T-shirt over his head, wondering if he should bring his revolver with him. If Maddy needed muscle to get her out of there, he didn’t have it. On the other hand, it would probably scare Claire to death if she saw him carrying a gun.

His guess was that his Rossi would be overkill. It was probably nothing more than a
Rumspringa
party anyway, and he wasn’t particularly worried about a bunch of drunken Amish teenagers getting violent, so he decided to risk it. Just to be on the safe side, he slipped the paratrooper knife into his pocket.

“Stay here, Rocky.” He started to close the door and then changed his mind. Something told him it might be a good idea to have the dog along.

“Where is she?” Claire asked as they sped away.

“Maddy gave me directions to the old Tinker house near Fredericksburg. I used to be friends with a boy who lived there. I know where to go.”

When they arrived, the house was derelict, and it looked like it had not been inhabited for many years. Nearly all the paint had peeled off the once lovely home.

The house certainly was not empty tonight. Dozens of cars were parked around it. Loud music poured out of broken windows. Someone had rigged lights to a generator.

“Please stay in the car, Claire,” Tom said. “Keep the door locked. I’ll leave Rocky here with you.”

Claire nodded and huddled deeper into her robe, her eyes glued to the scene before her.

Rocky looked at him from the backseat and whined.

“Stay here,” he said. “Protect Claire.”

He knew the dog had no idea what he was saying, but he thought there was a chance Rocky would be a deterrent if someone tried to get into the car. Small chance of that happening, but still . . .

As he entered the house, he worked his way past several couples who apparently thought they were dancing but appeared to be basically holding each other up. There was no furniture. Old mattresses and sleeping bags were scattered about.

The Tinker place had once been a fine house. A wide staircase beckoned. Maddy said she was locked in the upstairs bathroom. Because of the age of the house, he was fairly certain there would be only one.

One thing he could tell was that this was definitely not a
Rumspringa
party. Amish kids, even when dressed
Englisch,
had a certain look. Someone who had grown up in Holmes County could tell. These were
Englisch
kids. Every one of them. Maddy had no business here at all.

One of the boys said, “Hey! No old men allowed! This is our party.”

Tom saw the pistol grip of what looked to be a Glock 9mm peeking out from the waistband of the boy’s low-riding jeans. He hoped the safety was on. There was a good chance that the kid was going to shoot himself in the leg if it wasn’t.

“I’m looking for a girl named Maddy,” Tom said. “She called and said she wants to go home. Her mom sent me to get her. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Dude.” The boy was staring at his chest. “Chill out. I don’t care if you take the Amish chick home.”

“I intend to.”

“Cool T-shirt, by the way.”

Tom glanced down. In his haste, he had accidently grabbed an Army Special Forces T-shirt, a gift from an old Army buddy. It read,
We Do Bad Things To Bad People.
He’d been careful not to wear it since he came to Mt. Hope.

The kid went back to the party and Tom crept up the old stairs. Wallpaper hung in ribbons, and it was obvious by the rain stains on the wall that the roof needed attention. He was getting a bad feeling. It wasn’t just from seeing the wacked-out kids downstairs, or the ruination of a formerly fine home. He was getting one of those bad feelings that only years of combat gave you.

If he had been in fighting form, he would not have asked for backup, not against a bunch of teenagers. The problem was, he couldn’t box his way out of a paper bag right now. If Maddy truly needed help getting away, he wasn’t sure he had the steam to do it. Not when he was unarmed and there were juveniles here who had guns stuck down their pants.

He paused on the landing and dialed 911. When the operator answered, he quickly gave the address and said, “This is Marine Captain Tom Miller. I’ve come to get a young friend out of a party that might turn bad before I can get her out of here. Could you send a police officer just in case?”

“We’ll send someone over,” the operator said. “Are you and your friend all right?”

“I don’t know yet,” Tom said. “I’m heading up the stairs to where she is, and I’d appreciate it if you’d keep this line open for a few minutes until I can evaluate the situation.”

“No problem,” the operator said. “I’ll send one of our squad cars over right now.”

“Thanks.” He dropped his phone into his pants pocket without turning it off. It was a precaution he hoped wasn’t necessary.

C
laire stared at the ruined house, wondering how Maddy could have allowed herself to go inside that evil-looking place. The longer she sat there, the angrier she got. What in the world had the girl been thinking? She had thought she and Maddy were close. Obviously, she was wrong. Right now she had no idea who Maddy was.

Tom should not have gone in there alone. He was big and could look intimidating, but she knew he was not yet a well man, nor a strong one.

Before he had pulled his T-shirt on this evening, she had a clear view of his bare chest. That sight would stay forever etched in her mind. Tom had been a soldier most of his life, and he most definitely still had a warrior’s body, but the shrapnel had done more damage than she’d ever dreamed. There were multiple scars crisscrossing his chest. She could not even guess how many surgeries he’d endured.

Claire had seen something else before Tom had put on his shirt. On his left breastbone, directly above his heart, there was a tattoo. She did not approve of tattoos, but if a man had to have a tattoo, she could not imagine choosing a better one. There were no frills, pictures, or fancy swirls. Tom’s tattoo was just seven bare, stark words.

For those I love, I will sacrifice.

It would be hard not to love a man who had chosen those words above all others to write permanently above his heart.

And now because of her foolish, foolish niece, that valiant man was going into that derelict house filled with who knows what, and he was doing it all alone.

What would Abraham have done under the same circumstances?

She was afraid she knew exactly. Nothing until the child came home. Then, no matter how scared and contrite Maddy was, there would have been punishment.

Everything within her wanted to go inside that house in case Tom or Maddy needed her, but Tom had told her to stay here in the car, with the doors locked, and she had been trained to be obedient.

Everything within her wanted to go inside that house to be at the side of the man who was trying to protect her niece, but she was wearing her nightclothes and had no head covering. She had been trained that no respectable Amish woman could ever go out in public dressed as she was. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Rocky.” She ruffled the dog’s white fur, glad Tom had brought the dog along. It was a comfort having the animal with her.

She realized that her hair had come completely loose from its braid. She started to rebraid it when her attention was caught by something lying in the driver’s seat. She picked it up. It was the knife Tom had stuck in his pocket when he thought she wasn’t watching.

He now had no weapon upon him, and probably did not know it.

She disapproved of carrying weapons, but she most definitely approved of Tom.

No matter how she was dressed, or the fact that Tom had
told her to stay in a locked car, her girl was in there, and Tom. She could not make herself sit here one second longer.

She had just unlocked the door and stepped outside when she heard two gunshots, saw an upstairs window shatter, and heard a girl scream.

Her fear for Tom and Maddy gave her bare feet wings as she raced toward that house, a prayer on her lips as she burst through the door. She didn’t notice that Rocky had leaped out of the car and was racing behind her, the new red leash trailing behind. She just ran.

•   •   •

Tom knew he was in trouble when he topped the staircase and saw a young man with a shaved head trying to pry open a heavy oak door.

“I told you to unlock it!” the young man shouted.

“I called some people.” The girl inside was sobbing. “They’ll be here any minute.”

“
Your
people?” The boy laughed. “
Amish
people? What do you think they’re gonna do? Hold hands and pray?”

Tom knew that there was an excellent chance that he was not going to get out of this mess without trouble. That tire iron the man was using and the muscle behind it were no joke. Hopefully the police would get here before anything happened to her or to him. Bluster and that paratrooper knife were the only weapons he had right now.

“
I’m
her people, boy,” he said. “And I’d thank you to leave her alone.”

The kid whirled, and his mouth dropped open in astonishment when he saw a six-foot-tall Marine standing in front of him. Tom had not planned it, but he hoped he looked enough like a soldier that the kid would decide he was more of a menace than he was.

“Where did
you
come from?” the kid said.

Tom kept his voice calm and deadly. “Most recently, Afghanistan.”

This kid was no Amish boy on
Rumspringa
. Had he been, there was a chance he might listen to reason, but there was no Germanic lilt to his voice, no telltale white line around his neckline to indicate that he had recently traded his bowl haircut for an
Englisch
one.

Even more worrisome was the fact that he was beginning to grasp the tire iron as though he intended to use it as a weapon.

“Do it.” A tall, skinny boy with no shirt and more tattoos than sense emerged from what had once been a bedroom. “You can take him.” Tattoo-boy leaned against the open doorjamb and crossed his arms.

“Think about what you’re doing, son,” Tom said. “An underage Amish girl who’s so frightened that she’s locked herself in a bathroom isn’t worth going to prison for. Let me take her home and you’ll never see or hear from me again.”

The boy with the tire iron hesitated and looked at the tattooed boy for direction.

Tom reached to pull out his paratrooper knife just in case . . . and discovered it wasn’t there. Somewhere between here and the car, it had managed to fall out of his pocket. The only weapon he had to protect Maddy was his damaged, bare hands.

Tattoo-boy’s eyes darted to something directly past his left shoulder.

He whirled just in time to see the low-trousered kid who had accosted him earlier point that Glock straight at him.

Adrenaline was a wonderful thing. Although his body was not strong, there was nothing wrong with his brain, and it went into overdrive. It felt as though time slowed
down as he focused on how to get Maddy and him out of this alive.

The boy was a lefty, which complicated things. He grabbed the kid’s left hand, and redirected it away from his body, but before he could gain total control, the kid got off one shot that blew out the window at the end of the hallway. Tattoo-boy ducked back inside the room and tire-iron-boy hit the floor as Tom and the kid wrestled over the gun. The kid pulled the trigger one last time before Tom used his larger body and superior height to shove the kid off-balance, and then he was able to wrest the gun away. The second bullet had buried itself in the drywall beside the bathroom. With his thumb, Tom released the magazine, allowing the remaining ammunition to drop to the floor where it could do no damage. He realized at that point that he had managed to get gun-boy’s arm shoved behind his back in a position that God never intended an arm to go. Martial arts training was a wonderful thing.