Dana R. Lynn - Amish Haven

The marshals tried to convince her to change her mind. She wouldn’t budge. Tyler tried to talk with her, too. Every time he moved toward her, she glared at him. Finally, he seemed to get the message. He wasn’t happy about it, but she didn’t care. He’d made his choice when he’d let them go. She quickly squelched any pity she might have felt for him.

They couldn’t hold her against her will. She knew it, and they did, too. Nor could they force her to go into the witness protection program. That didn’t stop them from giving her disapproving frowns. She ignored them all.

Strangely, while their frowns didn’t bother her, Tyler’s silence did. The way his eyes followed Bethany around. He stuck close to his daughter.

Annabelle couldn’t take it. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he really was concerned. A sliver of guilt tried to wedge itself into her mind. Guilt that she was going to be separating a father from his daughter. Maybe forever. She shoved aside the guilt. She didn’t have time for this.

She walked into the kitchen to demand that they either put her and Bethany in a taxi, or take them home.

She never got the words out.

Marshal Mast, who’d insisted she call him Jonathan, leaped to his feet as his phone went off. Not the phone he’d been talking on throughout the day. Annabelle figured that was his work phone. This one had to have been his personal phone. Especially since it was playing a popular song for the ringtone.

“Celeste?” he blurted into the phone.

She watched, amazed, as the calm US marshal paled. Her brow furrowed. Hopefully it wasn’t too serious. Instinctively, she glanced at Tyler to see his reaction. His eyes were narrowed as he watched the marshal. Obviously, he had no clue what was going on, either.

That could have described their whole situation. It was surreal.

“Okay, honey, relax. Do what the paramedics tell you. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Jonathan’s finger trembled as he disconnected the call. “Karl, you’re in charge. My wife just went into labor at the shopping mall. They are taking her to the hospital in an ambulance.”

“She’ll be okay, Jonathan.” The female marshal she’d met earlier, Stacy, stepped forward. “We know what to do here.”

He nodded, then rushed to the back of the house. Within minutes, he ran past them and out the front door. She heard his car start up and pull down the lane.

“Remember when Bethany was born?”

Annabelle jumped. When had Tyler moved up beside her? She had been so fascinated by the escaping marshal that she hadn’t seen Tyler moving.

Memories of happier times flooded her brain. She smiled. “I thought I was going to have her in the car.”

“Me, too! I was terrified. I’m still shocked I didn’t get a speeding ticket.”

She turned to face him. As she did so, she noticed for the first time the corner of a gauze bandage peeking out from the sleeve of his T-shirt. “What happened to your arm?”

He hesitated. “Wilson Barco shot me. While I was running from him.”

Her blood ran cold. No way. She needed to get her daughter away from him. Even as she cringed at being so coldhearted, she hardened her resolve. She had to put Bethany first. There were some things her daughter shouldn’t be exposed to. Bullets were one of them.

Something of what she was feeling must have shown on her face. Tyler hastened to explain. “It’s not a bad wound. Seriously. I need to keep it clean for a few days, but it should heal fine.”

She shook her head. “Tyler, I know what you’re trying to do. And I’m not changing my mind. If someone doesn’t drive me home, I’ll call a cab. I’m sorry you’re in this mess. I truly am. But it’s your mess. And I don’t want any part of it.”

She turned her head away so she didn’t see his reaction.

Karl Adams wasn’t happy. “Look, Annabelle, if you won’t go into the witness protection program, will you at least let us drive you to your mother’s house? It would be safer than driving you to your own house.”

Annabelle thought about it. What did she really need to get from her house? It would be nice to have her own car, but it wasn’t worth their lives. Nor did they desperately need anything from inside the house. She already had some bags packed from when Karl and Stacy had picked them up.

“I will agree to that. A marshal may drive us to my mom’s house.”

Karl visibly relaxed at that. It was a safer and smarter decision, and she knew it.

In a remarkably short time, Annabelle and Bethany were in a car with a younger marshal, heading to her mother’s house. Talk was scarce on the drive. Although the marshal, Rick, seemed like a nice man, Annabelle’s stomach was in knots. What if she was making a mistake? She clenched her teeth, refusing to second-guess her resolve.

A couple of times, Rick tried to engage her in small talk. She did her best to answer but found herself distracted.

After an hour or so, she allowed herself to lean against the door and close her eyes. Every time she would begin to drift off, though, a noise or the motion of the car would jerk her awake, her pulse racing.

The third time it happened, Rick glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Ma’am, it’s not too late to turn back. We would keep you safe.”

Shaking her head, she sat up.

“Thank you, Rick. I mean it. But I really think we’ll be fine at my mother’s house.”

Even as she said it, Annabelle suppressed a shudder.

Recalling the events of the past two days, she wondered if she would forever be looking over her shoulder.

E xhausted was too weak a word to describe how Annabelle felt as Rick finally pulled into her mother’s driveway Thursday evening.

Nerves had her continuously checking her side mirror to make sure that no one was following them. A couple of times, she got spooked by a car driving too close. Rick took no chances, to her relief. If he thought a car was suspicious, he would turn off the road, or see if it would pass them. Every time, the cars would pass them or keep going straight. It didn’t help her relax. The danger was still very real.

When they were an hour away from her mother’s house, Rick allowed her to call her mother on a burner phone.

“If they are tracking you, using your cell would be too dangerous.”

Her mother didn’t pick up. The answering machine kicked on. “Mom, are you there? Mom?”

“Annabelle? I didn’t recognize the number.”

“I know. Listen, I’m going to be at your house in an hour. A friend is driving me.”

The last hour of the trip dragged on and on.

Her mother was up waiting for them. Annabelle had told her as much as she dared on the phone. She didn’t mention Tyler. Even if she wasn’t going into witness protection, he was. It wasn’t a good idea to broadcast that information, even to her mother. Instead, she told her that someone had been bothering them at home and she needed a safe spot for a few days, so that she could figure out her next move.

Rick waited until she was inside before he left.

“Thanks, Mom.” Annabelle leaned into her mother’s arms as she stepped through the door. Bethany hovered at her side, blue eyes bleary with sleep.

Nancy Schmidt kissed her daughter’s cheek. “You know you’re always welcome, sweetheart.” She turned to her granddaughter. “Bethany, do you have a hug for your grammy?”

Bethany lifted her arms to her grandmother, yawning as the woman pulled her close. “Tired, Grammy.”

“You should have invited your friend in for a few minutes.” Curiosity burned in Nancy’s eyes.

“He couldn’t stay,” Annabelle replied, not meeting her mother’s eyes. Thankfully, the older woman allowed the subject to drop.