LITMIR.BIZ

       TWO

      Paul pushed his gun back into the holster and yelled for the paramedics.

      “I have a child here! Possibly injured.”

      He opened the door, stepping back to let it swing upward. The dome light came on, causing the little girl’s eyes to squeeze shut. She whimpered and curled into a tighter ball. The poor little thing was scared to death. Who did she belong to? And how on earth had she gotten into the back of the car?

      “It’s okay, little one,” he crooned softly. “I’m going to help you. What’s your name?”

      No response. She didn’t even look up.

      Paul heard shuffling feet, and the male paramedic stepped up beside him, only his eyes showing the level of his concern. In a job working with those who were injured or dangerous, you learned quickly to remain calm at all costs. That was the only way you survived. Paul knew from experience that bad things could happen when you didn’t. When you lost control, who knew what sort of damage would result? When the man started to climb into the back of the SUV, the child drew back in terror.

      “Let me.” Sydney, the female paramedic, moved forward and climbed in, making soothing noises. The girl still pulled back, but her distress seemed to lessen. When Sydney moved toward her, the girl whimpered but was calm enough for the woman to examine her.

      He felt someone at his side and knew without turning that Irene was there. Of course. Why would she do what he asked and remain in the car? After all, he was only the chief of police. It wasn’t like he had any authority. Not with her, at any rate. Even if she didn’t like him, she knew him too well to be intimidated by his authority.

      “She has Down syndrome.”

      “What?” He looked at the little girl again.

      “You see her eyes, and her face—I’m a special-education teacher, remember?” Irene’s voice was hushed, soothing. A mother’s voice. “Oh, she’s beautiful. And so scared. Paul, is that blood on her dress?”

      Sydney beat him to it. “Yes, but I don’t think it’s hers. I can’t seem to find any visible bleeding injuries on her. But she is dehydrated. When she opened her mouth, her tongue was white and seemed dry. Her eyes seem a little sunken, too. I wouldn’t rule out abuse, either. She needs to go to the hospital.”

      “How is it we didn’t hear her before?”

      Paul wanted to know that, too.

      Sydney tilted her head. “My guess? She was either momentarily stunned or the noise from everything else drowned out the sound.”

      Paul had another thought, one that chilled him. “Or she’s been conditioned to make no noise.” Irene and both paramedics looked at him, startled. Maybe even a little confused. But he could see the dawning horror as the meaning of his words sank in.

      “You mean she might have been punished for making any noise.”

      He nodded. “Yeah, that makes the most sense to me. Sorry to say.”

      Sydney moved to pick up the child. The little girl backed away, eyes flaring wild. The male paramedic—Trey?—tried to reach in and get her. Immediately, she went into a frenzy, shrieking and biting.

      “Oh, hey, don’t do that!”

      Irene moved forward. Paul reached out a hand to caution her to stay back, then felt his own jaw drop when the child launched herself out of the car and into Irene’s arms. Her little arms wound up about the woman’s neck and clung tight. Almost strangling Irene. Her grip looked painful, but Irene didn’t flinch. She held the child securely in her arms, murmuring comforting sounds. The child settled down.

      “I guess I’m going to the hospital, after all.” She smiled at the girl. Her eyes were sad. Paul could almost see her thinking. Some mother somewhere was missing her baby. Suddenly, her gaze flashed back up to Paul’s. “Oh, my! I was in my client’s house for almost an hour and I forgot to lock my car. When I got in, I didn’t even look back there. Paul, I think that this baby was from that house, the one where the man who was shooting at me lives. I remember thinking I heard a child cry out when I was there.”

      Paul shook his head. Not in disagreement, but in horror. “I wouldn’t be surprised if this sweet little thing was kidnapped and he was shooting to stop you from getting away with her once he realized she was gone. But now I have to see how she got there.”

      He stepped back to allow them to move past him to the ambulance.

      “I need to call this in, see if we have any reports of missing children from the Amish community.”

      “Would Rebecca know?”

      Sergeant Miles Olsen had recently gotten engaged, and his future wife’s family was Amish. Rebecca had left the Amish community years ago before she was baptized, allowing her to keep her ties with her family. She was also deaf, and sometimes communication with her family broke down. “I’m not sure. Somehow, I doubt it. And I also need to check with the officers at the scene.”

      Paul returned to his car and made a call to the station. As he’d expected, there were no reports of any young Amish children vanishing in the area. Considering the discomfort most Amish felt at the idea of involving the police in their community problems, he wasn’t surprised.

      His next call should have been to child services. He hesitated. If there was someone willing to shoot Irene to keep the identity and location of this child secret, he didn’t feel comfortable letting her stay with a regular foster family, who wouldn’t have the means to protect themselves and the other children in their care. No, for the moment, this was still police business.

      And that brought another concern to the front of his mind. Irene would be in the hospital, but when she left, would that man still be after her? Things obviously weren’t on the up-and-up, and she had gotten a very clear view of him. Not to mention his house and the vehicles. Would he come after her again?

      And what about that sweet little girl? He called the station again. Remembering the girl’s reaction to Trey and himself, he asked for Sergeant Zerosky, fondly known as Sergeant Zee. She picked up, and he sent her over to the hospital to keep watch. He knew she’d protect both Irene and the child.

      He pushed the button on his radio again to speak with the officers on the scene.

      “There wasn’t much to find where the shooting happened. Some glass. Tire marks,” Sergeant Gavin Jackson reported. “We’re back at the house where the shooter lived. It’s a mess. And Olsen found blood on the floor of the back bedroom. I can’t tell how recent. It’s dry. It’s gonna take us a while longer to process this scene.”

      “Okay, this is a possible kidnapping, and maybe even a murder case. I have a child in custody, presumably kept in that house, who was then stashed away in a vehicle. She’s on her way to the hospital right now. While you’re processing the scene, keep your eyes peeled for anything that might help us to identify a small Amish girl. Oh, and Irene says she probably has Down syndrome.”

      “Irene? Jace’s sister?”

      “Yeah. She was visiting a nearby home. And the child was in her car when she came out—not that Irene noticed at the time, with that maniac chasing

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