17
Gemma’s aunt blows out the flame in her lantern and turns to close up the cellar. It’s one of those old-fashioned kinds that always reminds me ofThe Wizard of Oz. She wraps a chain through the door handles. The root cellar is under a decent-sized white house. The main part looks historic, with a large wing of additions put on in the last ten years or so.
She brings her hand up to her face, shading her eyes as she watches my car roll by. I take my foot off the gas, letting the car slow a bit on its own before kicking it in reverse and sending gravel flying as I back up. Gemma’s aunt backs away and then turns and runs into the house.
Granted, I’d be leery too if someone stopped and backed up when they saw me coming out of my house, but it doesn’t make me feel any better about Gemma’s well-being. I continue to back up, needing to turn back down the road I was just on in order to get to the driveway.
Going slow, I pull in the driveway and park a safe distance from the house. I kill the engine, put the keys in my purse, and get out, shifting the way my purse hangs across my chest to make sure my badge can be seen, though I’m not sure if that’ll work in my favor or not.
I’ve never dealt with the Amish before, and the local law enforcement here is specially trained in their culture.
“Excuse me?” I call before going up the porch steps. “I’m Detective Ace Bisset, and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”
Shadows move through the house and the sheer curtains hanging in the window closest to me move.
“I’m looking for someone who might have passed through,” I go on. “I just want to ask if you’ve seen them.”
A few seconds tick by before the lock shoots back on the door. With a creak, the wooden door opens, leaving the screen shut.
“Hi,” I say, and take another step closer to the house. I hold up my badge. “I’m a detective with the Philadelphia Police Department. Do you have a moment to answer a question or two?”
“You’re Ace Bisset?” Gemma’s aunt asks, squinting her eyes.
“Yes.”
“Who are you looking for?”
“Gemma Hayes.”
The screen opens and Gemma’s aunt steps onto the porch. “That’s my niece. Is she in any trouble?”
“No.” I take another few steps, and a bad feeling starts to bubble inside of me.
“Is Gemma here?”
Her aunt shakes her head. “No.”
“She left the hospital with you, correct?”
“Correct. We brought her back here hoping she’d find some peace, but when we woke up the next morning, she was gone.”
My people-reading skills are usually great—Gemma is a rare exception, okay?—and this lady is hiding something. Gemma is here. I can feel it.
“Do you have any idea where she would have gone?”
Her aunt shakes her head. “You’re the detective that saved her, aren’t you?”
“Yeah. We’ve met before at the hospital.”
Her aunt puts on a smile. “Right. Would you like to come in? I never really thanked you for saving her life. I just made fresh lemonade and have a pie in the oven.”
“Sure,” I agree, hoping I can find some sort of clue to where Gemma is.
“I’m Beth, by the way. I don’t think we were properly introduced.”
“I’m Acelina, but I go by Ace. It’s nice to meet you again.”
Beth holds the door open for me and leads me into the kitchen. The house is a mixture of new and old. The couch is modern, but there’s not a TV or any sort of electronics in the living room. A large lamp hooked up to a mini propane tank is in the center of the room.
