He shook her. “I said be quiet. I’ve got a gun, Hannah. Want me to shoot Matt?”
Hot moisture burned her eyes, and she blinked rapidly. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her frightened tears.
“Good girl,” he crooned. “I’ve missed you, Hannah. The smell of you, the taste of you.”
He nuzzled her neck, and bile rose in her throat at the sensation of his whiskers. A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. He licked that up too. Matt called her name from somewhere.
“Sweet Hannah,” he whispered. “I know you’ve missed me. Our little girl misses her mother. We can be a family, my love, the perfect little unit. Just come home with me now. I’m going to take my hand away if you promise not to scream. Do you promise? Remember, if Matt comes running, he’s a dead man.”
She nodded. If he didn’t take his hand off her face soon, she’d faint. He nuzzled her neck again, then raised his hand from her mouth. Before she could react, he flipped her around to face him. He dragged her tightly against him and buried his face in her neck again.
She managed to get both palms against his chest and shoved hard enough to gain a few inches. “Get your hands off me. You’re a murderer. You killed my parents, and Moe and Aunt Nora. I have proof!”
He pinned her arms to her sides. “What proof?” His voice went harsh.
Now that he was in front of her, hatred swallowed her fear. He was still lying, still manipulating. “The picture you sent. The little girl is sitting on one of my mother’s quilts. That means you had access to them when you got rid of her.”
Now that she was in his presence, she knew. Her soul recognized the evil in him.
“No one will believe you. Besides—” He broke off and shut his mouth. “Never mind.”
“Where is she?” Hannah demanded. She began to strike at him with her fists, but she was no more effective than a kitten pawing at a tiger. Her hands struck his suspenders. “Where is my baby girl?” The words choked off. She could see him smiling in the faint glimmer of light through the trees now that her eyes had adjusted.
“Have you asked Matt about her?”
“What’s Matt got to do with this?”
Before Reece answered, Matt called Hannah’s name again. His voice sounded closer. Reece released her. “Ask Matt if you can meet his daughter. See what he says.” His hands fell from her body, and he melted into the shadows.
Hannah stared into the darkness. Where had he gone so quickly? Matt yelled for her again. “I’m here,” she called.
He broke through the underbrush and found her. “What happened?” He carried the lantern she had dropped. Ajax loped at his feet.
“Reece grabbed me.” Hannah wrapped her arms around herself. The shakes began then, shuddering through her frame. She swiped at the wetness still on her cheek. Disgusting.
Matt lifted the light and came to her side. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Which way did he go?”
“I—I’m not sure.” The darkness and trauma had left her disoriented. “Don’t leave me.” She hurtled into his arms. Before she realized it, she had wrapped her arms around his waist and was nestling against his chest. She fit nicely. His chin just touched the top of her head. She liked the scent of his cologne, something spicy and masculine.
“You’re shaking,” Matt said. He grasped her shoulders and pulled her away. “Let’s get in the house. I want you safe.” He handed her the flashlight and lantern, then returned to fetch Spooky.
She shone the way with the flashlight. Safe. With him she was safe. But she’d thought that once about Reece. She wasn’t a good judge of men.
They were back at the house none too soon for Hannah. Angie had gone upstairs.
Matt pressed her onto the sofa in the sitting room. “You need some water?”
“No, I’m fine.” And she was. In the rays of the sputtering gaslight with home around her and Matt here with her, she knew Reece could never touch her.
Matt sat beside her. “You’re pale.”
“It’s okay. He wanted to scare me.”
His arm came around her and pulled her to him. “What did he say?”
“Nothing, really.” She shuddered. “I told him I knew he’d killed my family. I’m sure the girl is my daughter. The quilt under the child connects him to the murders. Reece had access to the quilts only if he killed my parents.”
Matt stilled. “Anything else?”
She wasn’t about to tell him that Reece had insinuated Matt might know something. Reece had sensed her feelings for Matt and was trying to destroy them. She leaned her head against his chest and fell silent.
Heaven. The scent of his breath, the hard muscles of his chest under her palm as it rested against his shirt—this was heaven as she’d never known it. It had been so long since someone looked at her as if she was a real person.
Hannah realized this emotion she’d been fighting for days was love. Matt was the kind of man she’d always longed for. Peace and safety settled around her until she realized the position she’d put them both in as she sought comfort. She wasn’t divorced.
“Ask him about his daughter.”
Why would Reece say that? Was it only to twist her emotions about Matt up in knots? Did he think Matt wouldn’t want her to see his daughter? She didn’t want to think. She straightened and pulled away from his embrace. He immediately released her. Reece never would have done that. He would have taken it as a personal challenge to force her to yield to him.
“I’m sorry. I’m moving too fast,” he whispered. “I care about you, Hannah. I want to see you, to take you to dinner. Make you laugh. See your hair on your shoulders in the candlelight. When you’re free to do that.”
What woman’s heart wouldn’t be stirred by those poetic words? But maybe he was just practiced at it. Hannah swallowed past the lump in her throat. She should ask him about what Reece had said, but she didn’t want to bring strife into the room with them. She wanted to cup his dear face in her hands and kiss him. But the question had to be asked. She had to know what Reece meant.
“Could I meet your daughter?”
Matt went still, and his smile faded. “Where did that come from?”
“Reece said I should ask you about your daughter. What did he mean?”
The warmth blinked out of Matt’s eyes. He rose from the sofa and turned his back to her. “Who knows what a madman thinks? We’d better get to bed.”
“Could I see a picture of your daughter?”
“I don’t have one with me.” He stood and held out his hand. “Let’s forget tonight ever happened.”
Forgetting about it was the last thing she wanted. Was he hiding something?
TWENTY - TWO
“The Amish Center Diamond Quilt is beautiful in its simplicity. It captures in a lovely image the belief that God should always be at the center of all decisions and life choices, that he is supreme.”
—HANNAH SCHWARTZ,
IN The Amish Faith Through Their Quilts
Matt sponged himself off with warm water heated on the woodstove. He towel-dried his hair with a vengeance, then jerked on jeans and sneakers to dash to the outhouse and back. The sun was peeking through the window as he went back to the sitting room and folded his sheets. He hadn’t gotten much sleep last night with the ferocious thunderstorm that had crashed overhead until early this morning.
He should have known better than to let himself care. All he had to do was keep his distance and wait for Hannah to leave, but no, he’d had to go make a fool of himself. He was weak, and even worse, he was a fool. She had the power to rip his world apart. He needed to keep her at arm’s length. For all his preaching to Blake about the sanctity of marriage, he’d ignored the fact that she was legally bound. Where did the boundaries lie with God? Surely God didn’t want her to go back to an abusive man, one who might even be a murderer.