directing him toward the sitting room. Two rockers sat in front of a wood-burning stove, where the tourists were supposed to relax after a day of sightseeing. Not where she was supposed to discuss her ex-husband, who had escaped from prison.
This is too crazy to comprehend. Like a nightmare come true.
The U.S. Marshal leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “You are one of the strongest women I know. It took a lot for you to come forward to testify against Fox in my sister’s trial. I’m grateful.”
Her stomach twisted at the personal nature of his comment. After she escaped, Brian had killed Zach’s sister. Zach didn’t owe her his gratitude. If she had been braver sooner...
“I didn’t have a choice but to testify.” She measured her words, fighting back a groundswell of emotion, guilt riding the crest. If she hadn’t escaped from Brian, he might not have killed his sister.
You would have been the one he killed...
Heather dragged a hand across her hair and blinked her gritty eyes. Every fiber of her being ached with exhaustion. Frustration. Regret.
“I’ve put everything into this place. I have nowhere else to go.” Even she could hear the fight draining from her argument.
“The sheriff’s deputy told me you have two sisters.”
“How did he...? Of course...” Heather slowly shook her head. Quail Hollow was a small town. Despite having kept to herself—except for getting to know Ruthie’s family—since she moved into a nearby apartment to start renovations, the residents still knew her story. She didn’t truly believe she could be a Miller in Quail Hollow and not have people know about her past, but she had hoped to live a quiet life. So much for that. “I can’t move in with one of my sisters. I’m not going to put either of them in danger. I can’t.”
“A relative. Someone Fox doesn’t know about.”
“My father moved us away from our family. We’ve lost all ties. Last I heard, my two uncles and their families moved to another Amish community. I suppose I’m the only Miller foolish enough to live in Quail Hollow.”
“Friends?”
“I never stayed anywhere long enough to establish friendships. And the friends I had before...”
Pulse thudding in her ears, she slowly turned to meet Zach’s steady gaze. “I was married to the man. He knows everything about me. I’m not safe anywhere.” Her voice cracked over the last word.
“You may feel that way, but I can take you to a safe house.”
“You’re asking me to run?”
“I know.” The look of compassion in his eyes spoke volumes. He knew what he was asking her to do.
“What will happen to this place when I’m gone? If I run, Brian wins. Again.” She bowed her head and threaded her fingers through her hair and tugged, frustrated. But even as she made the argument, her resolve was fading.
“It’s only temporary.” His smooth, calming voice washed over her. If only she could believe that.
“I hid for ten years from Brian.” She lifted her gaze, wondering if he could read in her eyes the blame she felt for not coming forward. For not stopping Brian before he had a chance to meet, marry and then kill Zach’s sister. As irrational as that thought was, it always came back around to haunt her. In the long chain that had connected Brian Fox to Zach’s sister, Jill, she had been a pivotal link.
“The difference this time is that every law enforcement agency in New York State is searching for this guy. It will be temporary. He’s not living as a free man.”
“You can stay with me.”
Both Zach and Heather spun around to find Ruthie walking into the sitting room holding two mugs of coffee. “You’ll be safe at my home.”
“I couldn’t,” Heather said, accepting the coffee from her Amish friend.
“Wait,” Zach said, “that’s not a bad idea. Fox wouldn’t know to search for you there. You’ve only recently become friends, right? There’s no way Fox would make the connection.”
“Yah, well, my mem and Heather’s mem were friends a long time ago.”
“I can’t imagine Fox would connect the dots,” Zach said.
“I can’t put Ruthie in danger.”
“No one will know you’re there.” Ruthie’s eyes shone brightly, the eagerness of only the young and the innocent. “You can even wear my Amish clothes. We’re about the same size.”
Heather’s eyes widened at the young woman’s suggestion. Heather might have thought Ruthie had watched a lot of TV to come up with such a crazy plan, but that obviously wasn’t the case. She was just a clever young woman.
Zach leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. His golf shirt stretched across his broad chest. “It’s not a bad idea.”
“You live with your parents?” Zach asked.
“My mem. My dat died last year. Now it’s just the three of us. I have four older sisters, all married and living nearby. My little sister is fifteen.”
“I can’t imagine your mother would be happy with having an outsider in her home.” Maryann had been nothing but kind and welcoming to Heather, but she wasn’t so sure about this. This involved some level of deceit: pretending to be Amish. Would Ruthie’s mother go for it?
Ruthie planted her hands on her hips. “She won’t mind. My mem and your mem were best friends. She’d want to help you. I know it.”
Surprise trapped a response in Heather’s throat.
Zach pushed to his feet. “It’s worth asking.”
A throbbing started in Heather’s temples. “What if he follows us there? I can’t... I just can’t.”
Zachary paced the small space between the rocking chairs and the wood-burning stove. “We can take extra precautions to make sure Fox doesn’t follow us back to Ruthie’s home.”
Heather stared up at him, worry lining her pretty eyes. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“I’m not letting you stay here.” Zach winced at the way he’d framed the words. He suspected Heather wouldn’t take kindly to being forced to do anything. He stopped pacing and sat down on the rocker across from hers. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not going to force you into anything. However, it’s against my better judgment and all my training to leave you here. Fox has been here.” He pointed in the general direction of the graffiti on the wall. “Please let me—” he looked at Ruthie “—let us help you.”
He shifted to catch Ruthie’s attention. “Do you know the workmen here?”
“Yah, Sloppy Sam is a gut friend.”
“Sloppy Sam?” Zachary couldn’t help but smile. Then he turned to Heather. “You hired someone named Sloppy Sam to do home renovations? Seems like a risky move.”
Shrugging, Heather mirrored his smile and flicked a quick glance at Ruthie. “Sloppy Sam came highly recommended.”
“A lot of Amish have nicknames because so many people have the same name. I know—” Ruthie lifted her hands and held up her fingers. “I know at least seven Samuels. And trust me, Sloppy Sam is a very fine craftsman. He got his nickname when he was a little boy. He tended to enjoy his meals so much that his father kept calling him sloppy. It stuck.”
“Well, maybe Sloppy Sam can give you a ride home in his wagon. You can talk to your mother, run the plan by her, then I’ll see to it