by Becki Willis
Bryce leaned back in his chair and studied her with his dark, brooding eyes. He felt that protective urge kicking in again. He wanted to protect her, to spare her from the pain she felt. He could see it there in her face, and in her stunning violet eyes. He phrased his question as gently as possible.
“Have you considered the fact you may never know? That you may have to be satisfied simply knowing their names?”
“I have.” She settled those violet eyes upon his. She took a deep breath and said matter-of-factly, “But that’s not good enough.”
“Taryn—”
“Hear me out. If it was just me, just for my own sake and my own curiosity, I might come to terms with it.” She saw the pointed look he gave her and admitted with a sheepish smile, “I said I might, okay? I might be content, knowing their names and the fact I have extended family. Okay, medical backgrounds would be nice, because you just never know, but it’s more than that.”
The smile fell away, and she grew serious. “If this is what we think it is—and we both know it is—then a crime was committed. The toad man coerced Manuel King into doping his stock. No doubt, the Toad made thousands, if not millions, of dollars on the scheme. And it wasn’t just the horses. He was doping Manuel’s wife, supplying her with the cocaine he got her addicted to. It was all highly illegal and highly unethical. And if we’re right about the other—”
She paused while the server brought the check and splashed a refill into their water glasses. Once he was gone, she leaned in closer and continued in a hiss, “If we’re right about the rest of it, the Toad murdered Rebecca. We can’t just let that go, Bryce. I can’t just let that go.”
“I don’t have to remind you. We have no proof. No name. We don’t even know if the Toad is still alive.”
The fire that flashed in her violet eyes was a sight to behold. Bryce felt the heat sear him, all the way to his soul. His heart turned over in his chest, struck as surely by the blaze as if zapped by lightning. It settled a bit off-kilter, clumsy with its erratic pulse.
“You didn’t bring the contract. Are you quitting, before you’ve ever begun?” she spat.
“I never said that. I just want you to have realistic expectations.”
She remained stiff. “Understood.”
“I don’t want you getting hurt.”
She softened at his comment, but her eyes still glowed with the dying embers of ire.
“I’m a big girl, Bryce. I’ve had plenty of experience in the getting-hurt department. I can handle it.”
Two hours later, back in her room, she wasn’t so sure.
Chapter 26
My dearest Lillian,
Do you remember that game we played as children? We would spend hours, spinning foolish dreams of what our future would be like. The farmers we would marry and the children we would have. How could we have known, all those years ago, in all our innocence, the life our Gott would choose for us? Such unschuld we had!
If I have a girl, I will name her that. In our Deutsch, it does not sound pretty. But I heard the name once, in Greek. So I shall name a girl-child Taryn, for her innocence. A boy-child will be called Andre. It is the name of his father, and it means courage. Courage is all I have left. Even my faith fails me now.
I beg your forgiveness, sweet sister, for what I must tell you. My landlord knows a young couple who will make excellent parents for my sweet child. Though it breaks my heart, I have signed the proper papers, giving my most precious possession to these people. It is the hardest thing I have ever done, but it is the only way. The toad made it clear. If my Ahndray comes for me, he will find me in a grave. For myself, I do not worry. For our child, I am terrified. The man cannot know of our bobbli. I must protect this innocent life from the warts of such evil.
If I do not return, my landlord will mail this letter. If you are reading it, please know I adored you, and our Plain life there on the farm. I’m sorry I ever teased you, calling you my shadow. I would give anything to turn now and see your precious face behind me.
I know you do not understand. Why I left. Why I must give my baby to strangers. Why I cannot return. Why we must say our final goodbye in this way.
That secret, I shall take to my grave.
Please, remember me with fondness and think of me now and again. Think of me when you see the violets in the field, waving in the wind. That will be me, sending my love.
Forever sisters, Rebecca
“Hello?” His voice was coarse, frogged with a second drink and the first stages of sleep.
Bryce had gone home and had a whiskey, straight up, before falling into bed. He had a full day planned for tomorrow, dedicated to Taryn’s quest for answers.
At this point, he wanted them almost as badly as she did.
“Bryce?”
“Taryn?” He sat up in bed, coming instantly awake. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. No. I’m sorry. I woke you, didn’t I?”
He could hear the quiver in her voice. “It’s fine. What’s wrong?”
“I read the last letter. Bryce, there’s no doubt in my mind. The Toad had Rebecca killed. Whether to keep her quiet or to keep her father in line, I’m not sure. But this was a goodbye letter.” Her voice broke. “She was murdered, Bryce.”
He rubbed a hand over the buzz of dark hair. “Let’s think this through, Taryn. If she was killed, how did she mail the letter?”
“She left it with her landlord, with instructions to mail it if she didn’t return.”
“That doesn’t necessarily mean she was murdered. She may have left town in a hurry or been slow in returning.”
“It was mailed in February. Plenty of time for her to come back, or to call and say not to mail it.”
“Maybe she forgot.” It was a lame excuse, but all he could think to say. Maybe he was still more asleep than he thought.
Her voice dropped to little more than a growl. “You haven’t read the letter, Bryce.”
“Then bring it over in the morning.”
“I’m sitting outside your house.”
“What?” he asked in surprise. He went to the window and peeked out the shade. Sure enough, there sat her car. His sigh was weary. “Come on in.”
Taryn hurried up to the door, watching over her shoulder. She didn’t think anyone had followed, but it was hard to know. This was all new to her.
The door opened, and Bryce motioned her inside. He didn’t look pleased to see her, but he led her past the kitchen, into what was his den. The wood was aged and the furniture masculine. The dim lighting made the close quarters feel that much more intimate, with him in a t-shirt crinkled from sleep, soft sweat pants, and absolutely no shoes on his feet. Taryn barely noticed.
“Can I get you anything?” he offered, vaguely indicating the bar opposite the fireplace. It was stocked better than his refrigerator.
“A shot of whiskey and a Valium.”
He shot her an inquisitive look.
“Kidding.” She drew a shaky breath, sank into a leather armchair, and muttered, “Marginally.”
Bryce opened an under-counter cooler and pulled out two bottled waters, handing one of them to her. “Try this, instead.”
She took a long draw of the cold refreshment, surprised to find that it helped.
“I think someone’s following me,” she blurted out.
“What! What are you talking about? When did this happen?”
She scrunched her face, trying to recall. Her days were running together.
“Was that just today?” She pressed the cold bottle against her temple. “Yes, when I came back from having coffee with you. I couldn’t be certain, but I thought a white car followed me from town.”
“Did you get a license number?” he asked sharply.
“No. But it was a white—or light—car. A Nissan, I think. Sporty model. I didn’t go back to Lillian’s. I drove past her road on purpose and pulled in at a roadside stand about a mile away. The car went on, but I think it came back tonight.”
“I knew I should have driven you home!” He cursed mildly.
She shook her head. “Not then. When I left to come here. And someone called my cell.”
His command was sharp. “Let me see your phone.”
She pulled it from her back pocket and handed it over, knowing it would do no good. “Won’t help. Unlisted number. I already checked.”
“Did they say anything?”
“It was low, and garbled. Like they used an electronic filter. I think they said, ‘go home.’”
Taryn stood and paced the floor. “I had just finished the letter, and I was crying so hard I could hardly answer. I may have misunderstood.”
He looked at her questioningly.
“It’s a hard letter to read. I—I was so upset. I couldn’t just sit there in my room, and I didn’t want to disturb the family. I decided to go for a drive, to clear my head.” She turned and retraced her steps. “I admit, I wasn’t paying a lot of attention. I think I saw a car down from the driveway, parked alongside the road. I didn’t think much about it, since it’s not all that late.
“I was almost to the stop sign, turning onto the adjacent farm road, when my phone rang. I was still crying, and trying to drive, and maybe I didn’t hear correctly. But a car came up from behind, and it scared me. I turned toward town and sped up, and they kept coming. They were getting close to my bumper, so close I couldn’t see their headlights anymore. We went around a curve and there was a truck coming in the other lane, and another behind it. The car behind me backed off.”
“And then what happened?”
“Thank God, there must have been an accident somewhere.” She realized what she had said and clamped her hands over her mouth. “I didn’t mean that. Not the way it sounded. But I started seeing all these emergency vehicles. To be honest, I don’t know what happened to the white car. I put the pedal to the floor and drove like a bat out of hell. The car didn’t keep up.”
She missed the smile playing on his face. She had turned again, to plop down into the chair.
“Here,” she said, thrusting the letter at him. “See if this doesn’t just break your heart.”
She finished her bottle of water as he read, and then took to torturing her hair. It stuck up at odd angles, but neither cared.
Bryce looked up from the handwritten heartache, clearing the emotions that had gathered there in his throat.
“Heavy stuff,” he agreed gruffly. “Tough to read.”
Taryn stared into the fireplace, its hearth cold and empty on a summer night. Much like her heart.
“Did you know,” she said, fighting to keep her voice steady, “that Lillian lost her first child? A little girl that she named Taren. With an ‘e.’” Unshed tears swam in her eyes as she directed the bright shimmer toward Bryce. “Both sisters named their daughters after innocence. Or the loss, thereof.”
“So your birth mother gave you your name,” he noted softly. “She must have asked your adopted parents to keep it.”
“This is all so confusing, Bryce. And so overwhelming. What do you make of the part about the Toad? He apparently knew Ahndray’s father turned him in to immigration and warned him not to come back. Does that mean he found them after they left the farm? Was he watching them all along? But if so, he would know about the baby. About me.” Her hands roamed through her hair again, mussing it unmercifully. “I’m so confused.”
He perused the letter again, searching for clues.
“Maybe your mother called all bad men toads. I don’t think it has a double meaning in Pennsylvania Deutsch, but you could ask. Maybe she really was afraid of frogs, like Helen said, and related all evil to toads and warts.”
“Maybe,” Taryn said, but her tone was dubious.
“I need to know more about the white car, Taryn,” he said. His tone was stern.
“I can’t think of anything else to tell you. I can’t even be certain it was the same one tonight as this morning, but I think it was.”
“I don’t want you going back to the farm tonight. You can stay here.”
Her eyes flew to his. “I can’t do that!”
“I have four extra bedrooms in this house,” he told her. “Two are set up for guests. You’re staying.”
“But—”
“Give me your keys, and I’ll move your car around back, to my private parking.”
“But Lillian will worry.”
“She won’t even know, until morning light. If you like, you can leave first thing in the morning. But I don’t like the idea of you out on the roads tonight, and I don’t need to drive. I had a stiff nightcap after I got home.”
She should have known he was a stickler for drinking and driving, even in the smallest of amounts.
“If you insist,” she said, but with obvious reluctance.
“I do.”
She pulled her keys from her pocket and watched him leave the room. She idly wondered if he would put on shoes before going out.
He returned shortly, his feet still bare. “All done. Look. I know you’re probably still all keyed up, but why don’t we call it a night? I plan to start early in the morning. You can either stay here and help me scour the internet, or you can go back to the farm. Your choice, but let’s get some sleep, shall we?”
Taryn lifted her head from where it rested against the chair’s high back. “Believe it or not, now that I’ve sat here and relaxed, I think I’m ready to crash.”
“Then let me show you upstairs to your room.”
She trailed him through the stately old house, noting it was in varying stages of revival.
“You have a lovely home.”
“Thanks. I’m doing most of the renovations myself, so it’s a slow go. Do you prefer blue or beige?” Seeing her blank look, he expounded, “Decor. Do you prefer a room done in shades of blue or neutrals?”
“Doesn’t matter, as long as they both have beds.”
“They share the same connected bath, but the blue room has a queen-sized bed. It’s right here.” He turned a knob and pushed the door inward on a large, comfortably appointed room.
“Thank you, Bryce.” She wasn’t so tired that she forgot her manners. “I appreciate your hospitality.”
He gave her a little wink. Tomorrow, it would occur to her that it was charmingly witty and rather attractive, but tonight she barely caught the reference. “Remember that expense account,” he told her. “Just part of the services.”
Chapter 27
The next morning, Taryn had no idea how to contact Lillian. There was a telephone shed erected between Zook Farms and the King property next door, the Amish way of getting around the restriction on use of the telephone. She knew they had a cell phone—something about being untethered to land, and strictly for business purposes, Susannah and Lillian had both been quick to point out—but Taryn didn’t know either number. She decided she would explain her absence later. This morning, she was determined to help Bryce get started on her case.
“Where do we start?” she asked, joining him in the kitchen. She had taken a shower and dressed again in her clothes from last night. Sleeping in her underwear had spared the garments a night beneath the rumple of bed covers, but they were still dreadfully wrinkled.
He looked surprised when she came in. She mistook it for her sans makeup appearance.
“I thought I might as well borrow a couple of traditions from my Amish relatives,” she joked, circling a finger in front of her face, “in case I ever want to convert. Sorry if the au naturel look frightens you.”
“It’s not that. I just didn’t hear you come down.” He continued to pull items from a paper bag, which did make a bit of racket. “I ran over to Kaffi Korner and bought breakfast. Take your pick. Your coffee’s there on the bar.”
She brightened at the sight of her favorite brew. “Wonderful. But you know it will only throw Helen and Katie’s imaginations into overdrive.” She selected a gooey bear claw, adding a banana-nut muffin for its marginal contribution of fruit,
before she thought to add, “Unless, of course, you often buy breakfast for two. Which is totally none of my business, so don’t even bother with an answer.”
“You’re right, none of your business. But the answer is still no. And believe me, they were dying to ask questions. Good thing I moved your car last night. I wouldn’t put it past one of them to drive by this morning, just to satisfy their inquiring minds.”
“I’ve heard about the small-town rumor mills. Guess it’s true, huh?”
“Absolutely.”
They took their selections to the banquette, where Taryn asked, “So, what’s the plan for today? I want to help.”
“I thought we could do a few generic internet searches. Nothing so deep it will set off any alarms. You can get started on that, while I call my Navy buddy.”
“What am I looking for?”
“You can start with searching King Farms. They have a website, so it probably features past winners from their stock. Concentrate on the last part of the 70s. Take note of the races, the jockeys and trainers, and the owners. We can expand the search to the rest of the web, including old newspaper articles and archived magazines. We’ll cross-reference them and see if we can establish a pattern. It’s doubtful, but maybe toad man wasn’t smart enough to cover his tracks, at least in the early years. Do you remember what year your mother first mentioned him?”
“I think it was in the second journal, so she would have been about twelve, I’m guessing. That would have been around 1975, I think. Her brother was already sick by then, and he was buried on her fourteenth birthday.”
“So her brother was sick for quite a while. They must have racked up quite a medical bill, taking him to doctors and what not.”