“He got there in time to run them off.” A slight smile lifted her lips. “Always the rescuer.” She wanted to tell Matt her suspicions about Reece, but maybe it was anger and bitterness, not truth, that made her wonder if Reece could have been her parents’ killer. The more she’d thought about it over the years, the more convinced she’d become.
She eyed Matt. Would he even believe her? “I’ve wondered if Reece had something to do with the murders. Especially after he began to demonstrate his violent side.”
“Long was seen making the cookies,” Matt said.
“What about the symbol on the wall and the quilt?”
“What about it?”
“How did that relate to Cyrus? And what was his motive?”
He shrugged, but uneasiness flickered in his eyes. “I don’t know. We never found a motive or a connection to the peace symbol.”
“Well, I researched it. Wait here a minute.” She got up and went to the bedroom, where she dragged out the folder she’d kept all these years. When she got back to the living room, she opened it and flipped through it. “Here. I found the symbol and the Greek word. The word was anathema.”
“Anathema. Weird word. What’s it mean?”
She knew what it meant firsthand, but she kept her tone cool and clinical, though it took major effort. “It’s a person or thing cursed and devoted to destruction. It can also be a formal ecclesiastical curse involving excommunication. Early on, the Catholic Church adopted the word anathema to signify the exclusion of a sinner from the society of the faithful, but it was pronounced mostly against heretics. And it can mean something that is completely destroyed for the glory of God. I think it’s someone who hates the Amish.”
“And the peace symbol?”
At least he was listening. She flipped to another page and pointed to the symbol. “It’s a peace symbol, like you said. But it’s also called Nero’s Cross. In this case, I think it’s meant as a warning to Christians. Nero used it to symbolize the destruction of Christianity. I think the killer meant it as a warning to exterminate my family.”
His eyes widened. “You mean the symbol we use for peace began as a hate symbol against Christianity?”
She nodded. “It was a visual representation of the way Nero crucified Christians upside down.”
Distaste twisted his mouth. “That’s sick. How did a hate symbol become associated with peace?”
“I don’t know, but let’s get back to the murder. It fits, Matt. Our people have been victims of misguided people for centuries. I don’t expect you to understand.”
His hand closed on the folder. “Can I look at this stuff?”
She didn’t want to let it go. It was the accumulation of years of searching. “Just be careful with it. Could you make copies and get it back to me tomorrow?”
He rose with the folder in his hand. “I’ll go one better. I’ll go to the office and make copies and bring it back tonight.”
He was more perceptive than she’d realized. And kinder than his gruff voice let on. She remembered Reece had taken credit for getting the younger man on at the sheriff’s department. “You knew Reece on the force, right? You were partners?” she asked.
Matt went toward the door without meeting her gaze. “I knew him.”
She caught up with him in the hall. “How well did you know him?”
“Well enough, but that has nothing to do with the investigation.”
Her warm feelings toward him vanished. “It might if it interferes.”
“I’m a professional. My personal life doesn’t intrude on my job.”
She stood her ground when he started to step past her. “If that’s true, then what are you hiding?”
He folded his arms across his chest. “It’s not a big deal, okay? He was a foster kid that my grandmother raised. He came back to visit her sometimes, and I met him there. I was a punk kid with an attitude, and he tried to help me.” His frown deepened. “Which made it hurt all the more when he ran off with you without a word and stole my gun.”
Hannah didn’t hide the surprise in her voice. “Trudy Beitler is your grandmother? Reece talked about her a lot. He said she was wonderful.”
“Have you met her?”
Hannah shook her head. “Her daughter Irene was my mother’s best friend, though.”
“Irene’s Englisch.”
“My mom was Englisch.”
“You’re kidding!”
She shook her head. “She met my dad when she was eighteen. Actually, Irene introduced them. Mamm always said he was worth more than any TV set.” She smiled at the memory. “It doesn’t happen very often. The Amish are always a little doubtful that anyone who has lived in the world can make that change, but my mom showed them.”
“Did you ever meet my aunt Irene?”
“She saw me in a store one day and came up to ask if I was Patty’s daughter. I didn’t know who she meant for a minute. Everyone I knew called Mamm Patricia. Irene told me about their friendship. I saw it in action a few minutes later when Mamm saw her and came to chat. Mamm was so glad to see her. She even shared some news no one else knew but me and Datt.Were you and your aunt close?”
He shook his head. “Nope. She raised my sister, Gina, though. Your mom didn’t ever go see her?”
So did he understand the pain of losing parents too? “Datt would have been upset with her, and Mamm never wanted to rock the boat. Her parents were dead and her only sister had moved to Maine, so there was no Englisch family left in town. My mother left that life completely behind her.”
“Her friendship with Irene too?” Matt asked.
“I guess so. She wasn’t part of my life growing up. Does she still live here?” Maybe she’d reach out to Irene, find out more about her mother’s life.
“Yep. In the same house.”
“Did you live with your grandmother instead of your aunt?” she asked, curious if he’d answer the question.
He shrugged. “When I was eight, my dad hanged himself. My mom decided she wasn’t cut out for motherhood and vamoosed. I haven’t seen her since.” His voice crackled with hostility. “My aunt couldn’t handle a rambunctious boy.”
Her maternal heart gave a pang. “A child should know his mother. Matt, have you learned anything about the girl in the picture?”
He grabbed hold of the doorknob. “When have I had time to look? I’ve been chasing after your cats.” His gaze shuttered. He opened the door and exited.
She stared after him. Why wouldn’t he help her find the child? His demeanor changed every time the subject came up.
THE OLD PICKUP caught air over the potholes in the road. Reece forced himself to slow down. The old truck couldn’t take that much abuse. The Schwartz farm was just over the next hill, and he could barely make out its windmill from here. But his target this evening wasn’t Hannah. He pulled to the side of the road and watched the neighboring house.
Ellen Long had to be home, because her black car was in the driveway. He’d wondered why she didn’t go to Moe Honegger’s funeral. Had she remarried? He’d never heard. A light flickered on in a downstairs room as twilight fell, additional confirmation that the woman was inside. Reece let the truck roll forward and turned in behind the Saturn.
A dog barked at the loud screech the truck door made when he opened it, but it didn’t come to challenge him. Too bad. He was in the mood to kick something. Nothing had gone as planned so far. Hannah wasn’t staying at her family farm, and he’d lost track of her. He hoped Ellen Long might shed some light on the situation. Of course, all he really had to do was grab the kid, but it wasn’t as easy as he’d thought. Taking her from under Matt’s watchful eyes would be difficult. Besides, things weren’t quite in place. It was one thing to grab the kid and Hannah, and another thing to escape with them before Matt ran him to the ground.
He couldn’t tell himself why it was so important that he find Hannah. After all, once he had the kid, Hannah would come to him. But his soul craved the sight of her. He’d been lonely the last five years, and not a day went by that he didn’t long for her. He saw himself in her eyes as strong and powerful. Only Hannah had ever truly loved him. She was the linchpin that kept his life together. After she left, everything had gone sour for him.