Shielding the Amish Witness

ONE

She’d put thousands of miles between herself and what happened, but she hadn’t been able to erase the horrific memory of watching her friend die. It had played through her mind during every one of those miles, like a movie stuck on a never-ending loop.

All her fault. Cheryl was dead because of her.

The fear stalking her since she’d left New York showed no sign of easing as she crossed into Montana. Because she knew what Vincent was capable of. He’d proved it by killing his wife in cold blood without a single hint of remorse.

Faith had prayed that the terrible things she’d read in her late husband’s note would turn out to be a cruel joke, but the rage on Vincent St. Clair’s face when Cheryl confronted him with the evidence had annihilated that hope, and it confirmed he was the monster her husband wrote about. And so much more.

If you’re reading this, then Vincent followed through with his threat and killed me...don’t let him get away with it, Faith.

She swiped the back of her hand across her tired eyes and focused on the road in front of her. She was barely hanging on and still couldn’t wrap her head around the truth. Vincent was Blake’s older brother. Both were decorated police detectives. How was it possible they’d been on the take for years?

Since she’d found the note Blake had taped to the bottom of his desk, Faith had existed in a state of shock. The first person she’d thought to call was Cheryl.

Faith jerked the car onto the shoulder of the road and screamed into the confines of its interior. Pounded her fists against the steering wheel. If she hadn’t been weak—hadn’t called her friend for help—Cheryl would still be alive.

The horror of watching Vincent shoot his wife at point-blank range would forever be imprinted in Faith’s mind. If Vincent had been ruthless enough to kill Cheryl simply because she’d seen the evidence Faith’s husband had accumulated, then what would he do to Faith if he caught her? She’d grabbed the evidence and run, started the car and flown from the garage. She’d been so certain Vincent would shoot her dead right there, but God had protected her. She’d gotten away, but she’d been looking over her shoulder ever since.

I’m so sorry. A broken sob escaped. Her heart drummed away the seconds while she glanced around at the isolation of the countryside and shivered. Sitting still was dangerous. Thirty-eight hours ago, she’d barely escaped with her life. But it wouldn’t end there. Vincent knew she had evidence that would put him away for a long time. He’d follow her to the ends of the earth to silence her.

Faith eased the car back onto the road and punched the gas. Staying alive meant quickly getting the car out of sight. Vincent was aware of the type of vehicle she drove. He’d find a way to locate her. Every second she was out in the open, her life was in jeopardy.

Her gaze landed on the cell phone in the cup holder, and a terrible truth dawned. As a detective, Vincent would know how to track her phone. He could be following her now.

Faith grabbed the phone and powered it down, praying it wasn’t too late.

She topped a hill. The snow flurries that had begun almost from the moment she crossed the state line continued to strengthen. An early spring storm was approaching.

Her fingers dug into the steering wheel as she drove through the deteriorating weather. More than anything, Faith hated bringing this nightmare to her sweet Amish grandmother. If there had been any other option, she would have chosen it instead.

A set of headlights struck the rearview mirror, momentarily blinding her. Faith whipped around in her seat. She hadn’t seen a soul in hours. The wide-open territory surrounding the Amish community of West Kootenai was sparsely populated. There were few travelers. Especially after dark. Especially in this weather.

Her stomach plummeted. Was it Vincent?

You’ll never get away from me... Vincent’s parting words had felt more like an omen.

Tension bunched between her shoulder blades while she strained to see more details on the vehicle beyond the headlights.

As far as she knew, her husband and Cheryl were the only ones who had knowledge of her Amish past in Montana.

After she moved to New York, every time she mentioned once being Amish, she’d get asked dozens of questions about why she left. In the end, it was just easier to keep that part of her life secret.

Had either Cheryl or Blake mentioned her past to Vincent?

Please, God, no.

She picked up her speed while keeping close watch in the mirror. The vehicle topped the ridge behind her, its pace normal for the conditions.

She blew out a shaky breath, nerves shot. It was probably someone who had gotten trapped in the storm like her. Her grip relaxed on the wheel. She’d been jumping at shadows since leaving New York.

The car’s headlights picked up the sign nailed to a tree by the side of the road announcing the different shops found in the West Kootenai community. Almost home. Just a little bit farther.

A wealth of childhood memories rushed through Faith’s mind. For more than twenty years she’d longed to come back. With no other choice available, she believed God’s hand had guided her throughout every mile of this frightening journey.

The Silver Creek Bridge appeared through the swirl of snow in her headlights. So many of her early childhood memories were tied to this creek. Her grandfather had taught her how to fish here. They’d searched for gold along the banks of the stream.

A smile played across her face at the way her grossdaddi could make anything seem like an adventure to a young child.

Tires squealed close and the sweet memories evaporated while goose bumps flew up her arms. A massive truck was a few feet off her bumper. She’d been wrong. This wasn’t an innocent traveler. Her worst fear screamed out of her nightmares and into reality.

Vincent had found her. Staying alive was going to take all her skills.

He flipped his lights on bright to intimidate. Faith buried the accelerator and pushed the car to its limits. Her tires spun on the slick road. Even though it was springtime in other parts of the world, here in Big Sky Country, winter still had the community in its grip.

Silver Creek Bridge quickly came up. She had to cross it before he trapped her there.

Her tires connected with the first wooden slat on the bridge. From far too close on her bumper, Vincent revved his engine. Before there was time to have a clear thought, the truck plowed into her full force. Her car lurched forward. Faith’s head flung toward the wheel then snapped backward.

She grabbed the door for support when another blow sent the full weight of her body slamming against her wrist. She screamed as pain shot up her arm. Keeping the car on the road with one working hand was difficult, but she wanted to live.

Her grandmother’s home was past the bridge down the first gravel road on the right, but she didn’t dare lead Vincent there. The next turnoff was several miles beyond. She’d never make it that far. If she drove the car cross country under these conditions, would she survive? Through the swatch of visibility the headlights created, much of the countryside appeared still covered in snow, and the storm was increasing.

Faith fought hard to right the car and keep it from slamming into the guardrail. She punched the gas and tried to put distance between herself and the vehicle that was inches off her bumper once more. The truck hit her again.

Her car spun sideways. Faith screamed and did her best to control the car, but Vincent didn’t let up. He planted the truck’s bumper against the side of her door and shoved. She watched in horror as the truck’s tires coughed up smoke as he tried to force her off the bridge.

Faith yanked the wheel hard to the left in a futile attempt to pull free of the massive truck, but it was useless. Her car’s engine was no match.

She stomped the brake pedal with both feet, but the car continued to inch closer to the guardrail.

The passenger side struck the railing. Metal grinding against metal sounded horrific as the car crumpled on impact. Vincent didn’t let up. The guardrail bent under the pressure of the powerful truck. Faith fought a losing battle. Trapped inside the car there was nothing she could do to prevent it. She was going into Silver Creek.

Her terrified gaze shot to the water below. The creek was close to overflowing its banks and had to be five feet deep.

The railing gave way with a terrible sound of metal snapping and bolts breaking free. Both passenger tires left the bridge. The car hung suspended in midair for the time it took Faith to pull in a fearful breath. Vincent’s gleeful expression would forever be imprinted in her memory. She teetered back and forth for a second longer then plunged into the icy waters of Silver Creek.

The noise of the impact was so horrendous it had her wondering if the car would break into a hundred pieces. Her injured wrist banged the door again. She screamed and blacked out for a second.

Freezing water poured in through the bottoms of the doors.

Faith fumbled with the seat belt latch. It didn’t budge. Not like this. She wouldn’t die trapped inside this vehicle. She’d fight with everything she had to live. Expose Vincent for the criminal he was.

Water continued to rise inside the car. It groaned under the shifting pressure.

Help me. Please, she prayed and jabbed her finger against the latch several more times. The final try released the seat belt. She’d escaped her house with just the clothes on her back and the pieces of evidence she’d tucked inside her purse that would bring down Vincent. She wouldn’t lose them now.

Faith grabbed her purse and phone before they were completely submerged. She shoved the phone inside the purse and closed it before she slung the strap over her head.

It was a blessing the car had manual window cranks because the water had shorted the electrical system.

Faith rolled down the driver’s window and eased through the opening. Immediately, she sank under the water’s surface and tried not to panic. Her feet touched the bottom, and she righted herself. Though her head was above the water, the creek was running swiftly and standing up against the current was nearly impossible.

The cold water took her breath away. From where she stood in the middle of the creek, the bank appeared miles away.

Keeping her eyes on land, she began walking. She’d taken only a few steps when she stumbled on the rocky creek bed and went under the water.

Fighting back alarm, she steadied her feet beneath her. She wasn’t a strong swimmer in the best of conditions, but she’d never make it to the shore like this. There was only one choice. She’d have to swim diagonally to reach dry ground.

One stroke at a time. Her grandfather had taught her that valuable lesson. When she was in the water, panicking was the worst possible enemy. Take each stroke and follow through. Keep your focus on your destination. She sucked in a breath, tried to calm herself and did as he’d taught her.

Where had Vincent gone? She scanned the bridge above. No truck. She hadn’t heard it leave, but she’d been too focused on saving herself.

As the car begin to settle, a sharp crack came from the woods above and close to the road. She recognized the sound immediately from the many times Blake had taken her to the gun range. Gunfire. Vincent was shooting at her. He was determined she wasn’t going to leave here alive.

More shots landed all around. Barrel flashes lit up the woods. Vincent scrambled down the embankment. The shots missed her by inches. Faith ducked beneath the surface to keep from being hit. She swam underwater until she reached the opposite side of the car.

Did you really think you could get away? From me? Vincent mocked. There’s no way I can let you live. Cheryl’s dead at your house. I used Blake’s weapon to kill her. You remember—the one he taught you to shoot with. Your fingerprints are all over it. By now, my police buddies have probably found her body. I’ll tell them you tried to kill me too. No one will blame me for taking you down.

Those ominous words threatened to destroy her. Vincent planned to frame her for Cheryl’s death. Her murder would be considered justifiable by his fellow cops.

Where’s the evidence Blake left you? Vincent demanded. Give it to me and maybe I’ll let you live.

There was no way she trusted him to keep his word. Once he had the evidence, he’d kill her.

Using the car as a barrier, she peeked around the edge. Vincent spotted her and opened fire. Faith ducked beneath the water. As she resurfaced, the purse slipped from her head and begun floating away. The clasp worked its way open. It wouldn’t take long for everything inside to be in the creek.

Faith grabbed for it like the lifeline it was. That purse contained her only means of contacting anyone and the hard copies of all the data on the thumb drive along with Blake’s note describing his and Vincent’s crimes.

She’d tucked the drive into a plastic bag inside her wallet and placed it in her purse before she’d called Cheryl. At the time, she hadn’t imagined a scenario such as this. God had planted the notion in her mind. If she lost those items, she had nothing.

Faith dove for the disappearing purse, but the current was too swift, and it floated out of her reach. Another round of shots peppered the water around her, forcing her to retreat. Desperate, she looked around for some means of escape, but there wasn’t one. It was just her and a killer who was determined to bury her at the bottom of the creek. Along with his crimes.

Gunshots—more than one—had Eli Shetler sitting up straighter on the wagon. A short time earlier another disturbing sound had interrupted his tired thoughts. Metal crunching together followed by a loud splash. Something quite large had gone into Silver Creek. Undoubtedly, a car. But that didn’t explain the gunshots. Those worried him the most.

Eli shook the reins hard. The mare picked up her pace.

The bridge over Silver Creek appeared through the snowy downpour.

Though he’d been back in West Kootenai for a little more than a month, everywhere he looked moments from his past abounded. Good times. Bad times. Those he and his wife, Miriam, had spent together reminded him of all he’d lost with her death. Silver Creek was no exception. They’d picnicked here. Taken long walks through the nearby woods to spend time together when they were courting. And he’d loved her so much. Even after two years, he couldn’t believe he would never see her or the baby they’d been expecting again.

Eli stopped the horse before she entered the bridge. Part of the guardrail to the right was missing where a vehicle had plowed through it. The image in his head was unsettling.

A little way down on the opposite side, a pickup truck was parked off the gravel road. Had the driver stopped to lend assistance? While he pondered these things, a half dozen more shots ricocheted from the creek below. This was no accident. Someone was in serious trouble.

Eli grabbed the shotgun he kept for protection when working out in the wilderness and started down the slippery embankment.

Help! A woman screamed at the top of her lungs. Her distressed voice sent Eli scrambling the rest of the way down.

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness below the bridge, the sight in front of him was like nothing he’d seen before. A woman was in the water near a car that was sinking quickly. On the bank nearby, a shadowy figure of a man. He had a gun aimed at the woman.

Where is it? the man demanded. I want what Blake gave you. All of it. Now, the man barked, and the woman jumped in reaction. You should have stayed out of this, Faith. Shouldn’t have dragged Cheryl into it. Now, you’re going to die like her and your traitor husband. He betrayed blood.

Eli was terrified the man would shoot her right before his eyes. Acting on sheer instinct, he charged toward the assailant.

The man whipped around, spotted Eli, and trained his weapon at his head.

That’s far enough. The man scowled as he looked Eli over without lowering the weapon. This doesn’t concern you. I’m a police officer. He reached inside his pocket and flashed a badge too quickly for Eli to read it. This woman is being accused of murder. I’m here to take her back with me.

He’s lying! the female yelled, her pleading eyes latching on to Eli. Something familiar about her startled him. He tried to kill me by forcing me off the bridge. Now he’s shooting at me.

The reality of those words sank in. Why would someone from law enforcement try to kill this woman? Something about the situation wasn’t as this guy claimed.

The man kept his finger poised on the trigger of the weapon. Would a law enforcement officer try to kill a man who had come to assist? Eli had overheard him threatening the woman earlier. The man might be a police officer, but he was definitely not following the law.

Please don’t leave me with him. The terror on her face wouldn’t let Eli abandoned her no matter how much