by Debby Giusti
Where would that leave Zeke? Alone again. Broken. He would go back into the castle Becca had mentioned, but he would never again be able to venture outside the walls he had built to protect his heart. Not if he lost Becca.
* * *
Becca entered her bedroom, still surrounded by the nervous glow she had felt standing in the moonlight with Zeke. He had almost kissed her. The memory of his closeness warmed her from head to toe but also frightened her. What if she loved another man? Could that be?
She clutched her hands to her heart. Did the past matter when the present offered such promise?
Even if her memory never returned, she had today and tomorrow and the days going forward.
With her spirits bolstered, she almost laughed. Sleep would be hard tonight due to the promise of what life could be, no, would be in the days ahead.
Zeke had loved Irene, but he had told her more than once that Irene was in the past. Becca was here and now.
She twirled around the room, her full skirt billowing out. In her mind’s eye, she imagined herself dancing with Zeke.
She stopped. Did Amish people dance?
Why didn’t she know the answer?
There was so much she had forgotten and so much she needed to learn again. Surely with Hattie’s and Zeke’s help, she could master the nuances of the Amish faith. Not knowing if she had been baptized, she would have to talk to Zeke’s father. She hoped that would not be a problem, especially if she wanted to be fully Amish.
Again she smiled, thinking of Zeke’s words. Amish men only marry Amish women. Was he assuring her of what the future could hold for both of them?
Her euphoria was short-lived as her mind started firing other thoughts so fast her head spun. The bloody carpet, the knife, running through the woods, and being chased again the next day and later in town.
How could she be dreaming of Zeke when such confusion surrounded her? She needed to think through everything she had learned so far.
If she had worked with the housekeeping department, she might have stumbled upon the bloody carpet. Someone could have walked in on her when she was cleaning that night and then chased after her because of what she had seen.
What about the actor in town who had grabbed her arm at the cattle auction? Was he somehow involved with what had happened?
If Vanessa Harrington had been kidnapped, a ransom would be demanded from her husband or perhaps from the studio, which could be the reason they wanted her disappearance to be kept quiet.
The men on the ledge by the waterfall had talked about the scene they planned to set. A movie scene or the scene of the crime?
She sighed and rubbed her hand over her forehead. If only her memory would return.
EIGHTEEN
Becca slept fitfully. The next morning she woke before dawn and hurriedly dressed and descended to the kitchen to help Hattie with breakfast.
“What is wrong, dear? You look like you did not sleep last night.”
“I... I had a lot on my mind.”
“Of course. Pour a cup of coffee. Caffeine will perk you up.”
Becca feared she would need more than caffeine to brighten the day, but she dutifully retrieved a cup from the cabinet and filled it to the brim.
The first sip was bitter, but she forced another sip and then another as if the coffee had medicinal properties. Thankfully, some of the tension she had felt through the night eased.
“I’ll get the butter and milk.”
“Make sure you put on a wrap. The temperature has dropped.”
Becca pulled a sweater from the peg by the door and hurried outside. Zeke approached carrying an armload of wood.
“Winter has arrived along with snow.” His expression gave no hint that he had struggled through the night.
Becca smiled seeing the falling flakes. “I’ll tell Hattie.”
“I am going to town after I do the chores. I want to talk to the deputy about what we found.”
“Yesterday you said law enforcement didn’t need to know about the carpet unless an investigation was opened.”
“According to the almanac, the snowfall will be heavy. I need to tell Mike Frazier what we found while we can still find the rug.”
“But—”
“I will not mention your name, Becca.”
“You wouldn’t have been searching for the carpet if not for me. How will you explain that to the deputy?”
“Mike and I climbed the mountain in our youth. Exploring the cliffs and boulders was a favorite pastime. He will not think it strange that I found something on the ledge.”
“If you’re sure he won’t want to talk to me.”
“I am not sure of anything, but I will discuss the carpet with him and not the woman staying at my aunt’s house.”
“I’ll stay here with Hattie.”
“Do not forget the quilting she mentioned. I know it is important to her.”
“She can go alone.”
“Which is not wise. There is safety in numbers, yah?”
“Two women would not be much of a match for a couple of muscular guys.”
“That is the reason I want you to go to the quilting. The widow Shrock lives some distance from town. No one will look for you there.”
Zeke took the wood into the house while Becca grabbed the butter and milk from the ice-cold water.
She glanced at the falling snowflakes and tried to imagine her childhood. She closed her eyes. For a split second, a scene flashed through her mind. She had come inside on a snowy day to get warm. Her grandmother had hot cocoa and homemade sugar cookies waiting for her.
The memory buoyed her spirits.
“I remember my grandmother,” she announced as she hurried inside.
Zeke turned to look at her. “Just now?”
She recounted what she had seen.
“Such good news,” Hattie enthused.
“I could see Mammi and felt her loving gaze. She had gray hair pulled into a bun and her kapp sat on her round face.”
“Her kapp?” he asked. “Your grandmother was Amish?”
“Of course. Didn’t you know I was Amish?”
“I thought this, yah, because of the clothing you wore when you arrived, but there were so many things you did not remember about the Amish way.”
“The amnesia blocked it all from my memory, but it’s coming back, Zeke. It’s all coming back.”
“You look relieved,” he said.
“Relieved to have learned something new.”
Hattie smiled. “Soon we will find that house where your grandmother lives.”
“I was a young teen. A lot could have happened over the years. My grandmother could live far from here. My parents and I could have been visiting.”
“Did you see your parents, as well?” Zeke asked.
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
“The next memory. It will come.” Hattie’s eyes twinkled. “In the meantime, we are family here, Becca, and you are included, as well.”
Becca warmed at the comment about family. It was true, she felt part of this household. If only she could truly be family. Standing in the large inviting kitchen gave her a sense of home and acceptance. She was drawn to Hattie’s faith and her love for the Amish way and the plain life. Her habits of hard work and concern for others were rubbing off on Becca. She had started to feel that same sense of commitment to provide nourishing food and a clean and tidy house. After the vision of her grandmother, Becca felt even more at home in this Amish farmhouse filled with love.
She blushed at the thought of having her heart filled with love, as well. Love for Hattie, but also—was it love?—for Zeke. Such a good man who was concerned about her and her well-being. The best part was knowing she was Amish. Sharing that faith made all the difference.
“I knew you would
start to remember,” Hattie enthused. “Gott has brought you here to us for a reason, a very joyous reason.”
Becca hoped the reason had something to do with Zeke.
* * *
Although nervous about meeting the older Amish ladies at the quilting, Becca was even more nervous about Zeke talking to the sheriff.
“Please don’t tell Mike Frazier anything more than is necessary,” she pleaded as Zeke pulled the buggy into the widow Shrock’s drive. Zeke hurried around the buggy to help Becca and Hattie down.
“And be careful,” Becca whispered to him, not wanting to frighten Hattie. “If the men on the ledge saw you with me, you might be a target, as well.”
“I was well hidden in the woods. Besides, the Englisch think all the Amish look alike, with our matching clothing and black hats. No one will recognize me.”
Still she was worried and stood watching as he rode out of sight.
“Come, dear.” Oblivious to Becca’s concern for Zeke’s safety, Hattie motioned her toward the house. “With the snow, we are a small group today. You will enjoy the ladies and they will enjoy meeting you.”
Hattie’s comment proved true. The four ladies were delightful and made Becca feel instantly at home.
She enjoyed the sewing as well as the chatter that flowed all the while the women quilted. Little bits of news were spiced with laughter and shared along with the stitches.
“Mattie King has taken to her bed,” Annie Shrock said. “Her daughter fears it is the flu.”
“So many are sick now,” another lady added. “Have any of you learned what happened to Susan Mast?”
Becca glanced up at the name Caleb had mentioned, the woman in housekeeping.
“Her husband says only that she is infirmed, but her daughter told my granddaughter that she had an accident coming home from work.”
“At the movie studio?” another asked.
“Yah. She works at night. The roads are dark. It is not good for a woman to be alone on the mountain.”
“We did not have problems before the movie studio arrived,” Hattie said. Her four friends nodded.
“Did someone run her off the road?” came the question.
“This is what I heard.” The hostess pulled her needle through the cotton. “Susan’s buggy ran into a ditch and turned over. Evidently she was left for dead.”
“How terrible.”
“Yah. Her husband was worried and went looking for her, which probably saved Susan’s life.”
“Gott provides,” an older lady intoned. Heads bowed in agreement.
Annie Shrock frowned. “I do not understand why her husband would not talk about the accident.”
“He is a man of few words. Perhaps that is the reason.”
“Perhaps.”
Becca kept sewing and tried to keep her voice on an even keel. “Does Susan live close by?”
“Hers is the house that sits back from the road, just around the first bend when you travel up the mountain from here. You will pass the Mast farm as you and Hattie return home, Becca. You cannot miss their red barn with two silos.”
The conversation switched to other people who were sick and to a woman who had given birth to twins.
Becca nodded at the news but kept thinking of Susan Mast and the buggy accident. Had she been run off the road as the quilter surmised and if so, why?
If the housekeeper had witnessed something she should not have seen, Becca wanted to talk to her. Perhaps she and Susan had something in common.
NINETEEN
Mike Frazier listened attentively to Zeke’s mention of the stained carpet.
“Usually I wouldn’t take the time to look at a discarded rug, Zeke, but you and I go back a long way. If you’re concerned, I’m willing to check it out.”
Zeke headed back to the mountain turnoff and waited until the deputy arrived. They parked on the road and hurried along the path he and Becca had taken yesterday.
Once they stepped into the second clearing, Zeke was relieved that Mike had agreed to come with him today. A heavy dusting of snow covered the boulders and ledge, and from the low cloud cover, it appeared the flurries would continue throughout the day, eventually obscuring the roll of carpet.
Leading the way around the boulder, Zeke stopped short.
“Where’s the carpet?” the deputy asked.
Zeke shook his head. “It was here yesterday. Someone must have taken it.”
“Who would want discarded carpet?”
“The person or persons who poured bleach on the bloodstain and did not want the carpet found, Mike. It has something to do with the movie studio.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I saw the same trellis-patterned carpet in one of the movie trailers.”
“I’m not going to ask what you were doing spying on the trailers. At least not now. I’ll stop by the studio and have a look around.”
Mike’s cell rang.
He raised the phone to his ear and narrowed his gaze. “Yeah? Do you have a name? Larry who?” He nodded. “Landers worked at the studio?”
Zeke stepped closer.
“Did you contact the coroner?” The deputy paused as someone on the other end spoke. “I’m headed there now.”
Mike pocketed his phone. “I’ll talk to you later, Zeke. Go home and stay put.”
“What happened?”
“That was one of the security officers at Montcliff Studio. There’s been a death on the property.”
Zeke’s breath hitched. “Who?”
“Larry Landers. I talked to Vanessa Harrington’s husband yesterday. He hired Landers to keep an eye on his wife. Evidently the job was too much for him. Landers hung himself and left a suicide note.”
“Which could have been written by someone else,” Zeke said. “If the movie star is missing and Landers was hired to watch out for her, maybe someone wanted Landers out of the picture.”
The deputy tugged on his jaw. “You don’t think his death was suicide?”
“That is something you need to determine, Mike, but if not suicide, then it has to be murder.”
* * *
Becca and Hattie said goodbye to Annie Shrock and the other ladies at the quilting and hurried outside when they saw Zeke approaching in the buggy. Becca crawled into the second seat so Hattie could sit next to her nephew.
As soon as Zeke turned the buggy onto the main road, he told them about Larry Landers’s death and that he had been working for the movie star’s husband.
“The same man who chased after me in town?” Becca asked.
“The man who stopped by our house and wanted to film on our land?” Hattie added.
Zeke nodded. “Yes to both of your questions. He may have also been one of the men on the ledge when Becca and I found the carpet.”
Hattie tapped Zeke’s arm and then glanced back at Becca. “There is something neither of you have told me.”
Becca explained finding the carpet and the two men talking above them on the ledge before adding, “As Zeke said, one of the men could have been Landers, although it is doubtful if he was working for Vanessa’s husband.”
“He was supposed to watch out for Vanessa,” Zeke added. “Perhaps he became despondent when she went missing and took his own life.”
Becca shook her head. “It does not make sense.”
Noting the approaching bend in the road, she spied the red barn and double silos and tapped Zeke’s shoulder. “Would you mind stopping at the farm. Susan Mast lives here, and I want to talk to her. The ladies at the quilting said she was recently in a buggy accident.”
“The Susan Mast who works at the studio?” he asked.
“That’s right. I want to find out if the buggy crash could have been something other than an accident.”
Zeke pulled Sophie to a s
top near the farmhouse. He helped Becca and Hattie from the buggy, and the three of them hurried to the door.
“Susan’s husband is probably putting out corn and hay for the livestock because of this snow,” Zeke said. “Perhaps we will find her alone.”
No one answered their first knock. Hattie rapped on the door and raised her voice. “Susan, I need to talk to you. It is important.”
A woman appeared at the window. Hattie smiled a greeting and pointed to the door.
Slowly it opened.
“I heard you were sick.” Hattie pushed past the woman and stepped inside. “You know Ezekiel Hochstetler.” She introduced Becca as a family friend.
Susan seemed unsettled and clutched her hands nervously. “I must ask you to leave, Hattie. I have not been well.”
Becca stepped closer. “I worked in housekeeping at the studio.”
Susan straightened her spine. “I know the people I hire, and you are not part of the housekeeping department.”
Becca was taken aback by the answer. “You have not seen me before?”
“Never. Why do you ask?”
“Because your buggy was run off the road and someone left you to die.”
Susan drew her hand to her mouth. “How did you know?”
“Something happened at the studio,” Becca continued. “Vanessa Harrington is missing, and you have information that ties in with her disappearance, which is why you were attacked. They wanted to scare you. Or kill you.”
Susan’s shoulders slumped, and she nodded. “Yah, I fear you are right.”
“Can you tell us what happened the night of your accident?” Zeke asked.
“I saw a light on in the office trailer. Earlier, I had received a note saying the office did not need to be cleaned, but I wanted to make certain everything was tidy. Just because someone did not want cleaning does not mean I could forsake my obligation.”
She looked at each person as if waiting for their agreement.
“This is true,” Hattie confirmed with a nod.