Chapter 3
3
All good. Don’t worry.
Reading her brother’s text one more time, Beverly breathed a sigh of relief. Hardy had her. Stephanie would be safe now.
The wait for her brother’s text had felt interminable. But that was on her, not him. She’d been too much on edge, continually reminding herself of everything that could go wrong. Stephanie was a very sheltered young woman. She’d likely been in shock too. Bev had worried that Stephanie would forget all the instructions mere minutes after boarding the bus.
Bev, on the other hand, hadn’t been able to think of anything else.
After making sure that Stephanie was safely on the bus, Beverly had gotten back in her car and headed home. She lived in a townhouse in a new development in Milford. It was close enough to her office in Batavia to make a short commute yet far enough away to give her some space from most of her clients.
She loved her work, but there was no denying that social work was hard. Having a heavy caseload of children in the foster care system felt like the toughest job of all.
Getting a little distance from the clients she served was the only way to stay sane. Or, at the very least, to be able to sleep at night.
Unfortunately, even after getting inside her immaculate, organized space, Bev felt at loose ends. Now that she wasn’t in the moment, now that the image of Stephanie’s hurt expression wasn’t fresh in her brain, she felt ashamed. It felt wrong for her to be sitting in her comfortable home after sending Stephanie away on the bus.
She’d also been thinking about Timothy. He’d been such a sweet, hurt boy when they’d first met. He’d touched her heart so deeply that she’d even considered fostering him herself. After reminding herself about all the other kids she was responsible for, Bev had told herself that he was going to be better off with a family.
He hadn’t been, though. Not really. Some of the homes weren’t all that great, and eventually Timothy had stopped believing that his life would get better.
And now he’d killed a man.
By now they would’ve sent an officer out to look for Timothy Jones. After they talked, Will had promised to stay away from Stephanie’s aunt and uncle’s house. That would keep her family safe for a little while.
So everything was going to get handled. More or less.
Still feeling uneasy, she opened up her laptop, booted up her computer, and wrote a detailed report about what happened. Will would want it, and she was going to need that documentation for herself.
An hour later, she closed her computer. She hadn’t done too much, but she did feel better. She decided to write some more notes—these just for herself. There were several teens she should visit soon. She knew of a couple of boys who were on the brink of following in Timothy’s footsteps.
Timothy’s story could be just the ammunition she needed to scare them straight. At least for a little while longer.
So those were good things. Good things in spite of the fact that she’d probably just made a bunch of very bad choices. For the first time, she’d taken a situation into her own hands and hid a witness.
She should be full of regrets.
So far, she didn’t have a single one. The fact was that she’d lost several kids to that gang. The Broken Arrows had just enough money and power to do reckless things. Dangerous things. Wrong things.
The police might be able to watch for Timothy, but chances were slim that they’d find him easily. The Arrows had connections with other gangs and with folks in Appalachia. It wouldn’t be difficult for him to disappear. And right now, there wasn’t any reason for the cops to protect Stephanie. Not until they found the body.
In the meantime, someone in the gang would’ve found her. That auburn hair of hers was too striking to forget. She’d been standing too close and would be able to not only identify Timothy but describe in detail what she saw.
She knew Stephanie wouldn’t stand a chance the moment the head of the Arrows learned what Timothy had done. She didn’t know Stuart—he’d never been in the foster system—but she had been aware of who he was for some time. Stuart, or “Stew” as he was known, would stop at nothing to keep himself safe.
She might have lost Timothy to the gang, but she was going to do everything she could to save one sweet Amish girl.
She fell asleep on her couch. When the first glimpse of light shining through her open shades woke her up, Beverly knew it was time to face a new day.
It was also time to visit Stephanie’s family.
She chose a modest outfit of loose-fitting slacks and an equally loose top in dark navy. She pulled her shoulder-length hair into a neat ponytail at the back of her neck and headed out to Peebles.
Eventually she turned right and began following her phone’s directions to the address Stephanie had given her. After passing more than one buggy and several fields of sheep, she navigated the final narrow, hilly roads to Stephanie’s aunt and uncle’s house.
It was a tidy white clapboard house with a small arrangement of shrubs near the front door.
No doubt by now they would be worried sick. Bev knew it would have been best if she’d visited Mark and Jo Miller as soon as she dropped Stephanie off at the bus station. But she hadn’t been able to do it. She’d had a strange, uncomfortable feeling hanging over her head all afternoon. It made no sense, but she couldn’t seem to quite abandon the feeling that she was being followed.
It was ridiculous.
Or ... maybe it wasn’t.
She now knew five of the Broken Arrows members. Once, most of those boys had been sweet and had gazed at her with big eyes. She’d placed them in foster homes, visited them, talked to their teachers, and tried to develop a rapport.
But the months passed and their lives never changed—some bounced back and forth between their parents and foster homes while others had simply moved locations every year or two. The boys’ expectations had faded. They didn’t believe in Santa Claus and they didn’t believe in having a future.
Eventually, they didn’t even believe in her. Because she’d failed them. If Stew or Timothy knew it was her car that Stephanie had gotten into, then she would be their link to the girl. Which meant the worst could still happen, no matter how much she tried to prevent it. Lots of things happened that shouldn’t.
Getting out of her sedan, she tried to pull herself together. It was past time.
The door opened, startling her.
A dour-looking Amish man about her height stared at her. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly mild. “May I help you? Are you lost?”
“I’m not lost, but I hope you can help me. I’m looking for Mr. and Mrs. Miller.”
“I’m Mark Miller.” He didn’t step forward or smile.
“Mr. Miller, my name is Bev Anderson. I’d like to speak with you and your wife, if I may.”
“Why do you need to talk to us? You aren’t here to sell us anything, are you?”
“No. Not at all.” She tried to smile.
He did not. All he did was continue to gaze at her with suspicion.
Bev supposed she couldn’t blame him. So far, all she’d done was park in their driveway and ask to speak to them. “I’m sorry, I meant to say that I wanted to speak to you both about Stephanie. Your niece.”
Again, to her surprise, the somewhat skeletal-looking man didn’t move. “What about Stephanie?”
“Well, I’m sure you must be worried sick after she went into town to go to the dollar store yesterday and never returned.”
Mark Miller stared hard at her for a long moment. So long that Bev even wondered if he was going to allow her inside. Just as she was about to turn around, he inclined his head. “Jah, Stephanie did go to the dollar store and never came home again. We haven’t heard from her neither.”
“I have some answers for you.”
A line formed between his brows. “Well, then. I reckon you’d best come in.”
He turned and walked back into the house.
Seeing that he hadn’t closed the door completely, Bev took it as a sign that she was supposed to follow.
Goose bumps formed on her arms, much like the ones that showed up when she was investigating a report that a teacher or minister had filed. It was as if her body knew before her head when she was walking into a bad situation.
Pushing aside a sense of foreboding, Bev entered a dark living room. A lone kerosene lamp was lit in the corner of a sparsely decorated space. She’d been in several Amish homes over the years. Two families in the area sometimes fostered babies when there was an urgent need.
Those families had always been kind. And while their houses were Plain, the feeling inside was anything but grim. Instead, she’d often felt a lively warmth that was contagious. She’d never had a moment’s worry when those families were caring for babies. They would be loved and cared for.
Bev knew that she would never feel that same sense of peace in this house.
Feeling almost panicked, she scanned the area for books or a project. Knitting needles. A basket of toys. Even a desk with letters or a deck of cards. Anything that would give her a better feeling about the home. Anything to show that a functioning family lived on the premises and that Stephanie was an integral part of it.
But instead, all she found was Mark and his wife standing still and silent.
No doubt they were wondering why she wasn’t getting to the point of her visit.
“I apologize,” Bev said with what she hoped was an embarrassed and not irritated smile. “It took a second for my eyes to adjust.”
“You may have a seat on the couch,” Mark said.
“Thank you.” Looking up at the woman, she smiled slightly. “Hi. My name is Beverly Anderson. I’m a social worker.”
The woman frowned. “What has Stephanie done?”
On the way over, Bev had debated about how much to tell Mark and Jo Miller. She didn’t want to share too much, mainly because she didn’t think it was safe for them to know too much. There was a chance that someone from the Arrows would somehow figure out who Stephanie was and decide to make a house call.
However, the couple did deserve to know some modicum of the truth. Though they might be keeping their true feelings hidden, they had to be worried sick about their niece.
Weighing her words, she said, “I met Stephanie when I was in the dollar store parking lot yesterday. She ... well, she got into some trouble.”
Jo frowned. “What sort of trouble?”
“Actually, she isn’t in trouble. It’s more that she saw something disturbing.” Bev felt her cheeks heat. She really was a terrible liar. Clearing her throat, she continued, “I’m afraid she might have witnessed a crime.”
“What kind of crime?” Mark asked.
“She, ah ... well, I believe Stephanie saw a man get attacked.” In a way, that was the truth.
“Why didn’t she come home?” Jo asked.
Bev figured that was a legitimate question. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a good answer for that. “She was so rattled, I invited her to spend time with my parents.” Yep, the lies kept coming, and each one sounded more outlandish than the last. They’d sounded far more believable in her head.
Jo’s eyebrows rose. “Why?”
“Well, she was afraid of what she saw and what might happen if someone followed her home. She doesn’t want to place you in danger. We visited for a while, and next thing I knew, we were on my phone and talking to my parents and they bought her a bus ticket to come stay with them.”
“Without asking us for permission?” Jo turned to her husband. “I do not understand why she would do such a thing. She knows she must abide by our rules.”
With a sinking feeling, Bev knew the lies were going to have to continue. “Stephanie was worried you would be upset. But, like I said, she didn’t want to do anything that might put you in danger.” When Jo still looked confused, she added, “I think Stephanie was worried that you would want her to stay. And that might have made it unsafe for your children.”
“She still should have returned home,” Jo said. “We expect her to help with Charity, Hope, and Evan. And with the laundry.”
“I see.” Well, she was starting to see a lot about Stephanie’s life in this house. Here, she’d done her best to convey that Stephanie was worried about their safety, but her aunt seemed more concerned about her niece shirking her duties. “I’m sure the children will miss her company.”
Jo didn’t reply.
Glowering at Beverly, Mark Miller stood up. “None of your story sounds believable. I think that Stephanie is involved in something sinful. So sinful that you don’t even want to tell us.”
Before Beverly could get a word in edgewise, Mark folded his arms over his chest and turned to his wife. “I warned you that no good would come from us allowing her to go to the store once a month. It is obvious now that she wasn’t going there for only her shampoo and candy.”
Bev stood up as well. “I don’t believe your niece was there to get into trouble. She doesn’t seem to be the type of young woman who would do something like that.”
“I didn’t think you knew her,” Jo said.
“I don’t. I mean, not very well.”
“I find that difficult to believe. Why would a stranger help her?” Mark said as he walked to the door. “Please leave.”
Bev glanced at his wife, looking for an ounce of compassion or worry. Instead, Jo was sitting quietly with her hands neatly folded on her lap. She looked almost bored.
For some reason, that bothered Bev more than the uncle’s bluster.
Still determined to alleviate their worries, she said, “Before I leave, I want to make sure you have a way to get info r mation. Do you have a telephone number?”
Mark shook his head. “We have no telephone.”
“I mean, perhaps you have a phone shanty? Or you know someone who has a number in case of emergencies? When I hear something from Stephanie, I could let you know. I’m sure you’ll be worried about her.”
“When you hear something from my niece who is recovering from a shock at your parents’ home? Who somehow boarded a bus without any of her belongings?” His eyes got colder. “Please see yourself out.”
She walked to the door but paused before exiting. “If I do hear something about her that I think you’ll need to know, I’ll come back.”
Neither of the Millers said a word.
Feeling both relieved to be away from the dour couple and a bit embarrassed, Bev walked down the front steps and got in her car. But before she drove away, she spied three children peeking at her through one of the upstairs windows. Their expressions were somber. Stephanie had lived there. In that dark, silent house with her sullen aunt and uncle.
And suddenly Beverly had a much better understanding of why Stephanie hadn’t put up more than a token fight about leaving her home.
It was because she currently didn’t have much of a home to return to. She wasn’t so very different than many of the children Bev had removed from homes over the years. Or, from the teenagers living in foster care. Most of those had already come to terms that no one wanted to adopt them. They were only biding their time until they were eighteen.
Stephanie wasn’t even all that different from the way Bev and Hardy had been when they were living in the projects in St. Louis. The place they lived had become only a placeholder. Only a spot to reside in until they were old enough or something better came along.
She prayed for Stephanie and Hardy the whole way home. Wished them an easy journey and hoped that her tough-looking and gruff brother would unbend enough so that he wouldn’t scare the poor girl half to death.
Only when she arrived back home did she pray for herself and ask for guidance.
She’d learned that doing the right thing didn’t always make one feel better. Sometimes it brought on a bunch of new worries and doubts and insecurities.
She needed to talk to Hardy.