by Becki Willis
“I know he was in the hospital on more than one occasion. And one time, they took him to York, to see a specialist. It’s clear to me that the Toad took advantage of a parent’s desperation and forced my grandfather into doing his bidding.”
“I agree. So concentrate on the years 75 through 80. If it comes down to it, I have a face-recognition program we can use to scan photographs. Maybe we’ll find the Toad in some of the magazine covers and newspaper shots. Big wigs like him usually like to steal the show.”
“You may as well get me a refill now; we have a long day in store.” Taryn couldn’t help but groan.
“Your second cup is in the microwave, waiting to be reheated.”
They worked in tandem for most of the day. Breaking only for lunch and an occasional coffee, they spent the majority of the day in front of the computers. Bryce worked off his desktop, while Taryn pounded away on the borrowed laptop.
“I hate to tell you this, but I’m done.” It was close to five o’clock, and Taryn’s eyes threatened to cross. She had a kink in her back and her shoulders sagged. She stood to stretch, her knees almost giving way.
“You lasted an hour longer than I would have wagered,” Bryce acknowledged. “Good job.”
“Thanks.”
“You’re pretty good at research.”
“What do you think a legal assistant does? We do all the legwork—and screen time—so that the lawyers can dazzle the juries and rake in the big bucks. All in a day’s work.”
He chuckled at her apt description and stood from behind his desk, resisting the urge to stretch his own aching muscles. To her surprise, he handed her a set of keys.
“What are these?”
“I’d like for you to take my car. Drive it back to the farm and leave your car here.”
Her breath caught in her chest. “Do you really think that’s necessary?”
Bryce shrugged, but his easy demeanor didn’t fool her. “Call it an experiment. I’ll follow behind at a distance, but I won’t take the farm road. I’ll make a point for your car to be seen out and about. If someone follows, I’ll know.”
“If you’re sure…” She still looked uncertain, so he sweetened the pot.
“Did I mention it’s a Corvette?”
She brightened immediately. “I see the brilliance in your plan.”
“I thought you would,” Bryce replied with a smug smile. He gave an exaggerated hand roll. “After you.”
“I thought you’d never get home!” Susannah chided, the moment she realized it was Taryn behind the wheel of the sports car. “Where have you been? And where did you get this car?”
“Is it yours?” her brother Carl wanted to know. He walked around the sleek model, admiring its curves and shiny chrome accents.
Taryn sighed. It seemed that even Amish men fell for the allure of a sports car.
“I’m sorry if I worried you,” she told the exasperated young woman. “I had business to attend to, and I didn’t know how to reach you. You’ll have to give me your cell phone number.” She turned to the man still circling the vehicle. “And no, it belongs to a friend. We swapped cars for the day.”
“He came out on the short end of the stick!” Carl proclaimed.
“Probably in more ways than one.” She only hoped Bryce was safe, acting as bait for the white car.
“Would you like to have dinner with us?” Susannah invited. “You can tell us all about your day.”
Taryn readily accepted the invitation, for two reasons. One, she was famished. And two, she knew that with such an unruly and noisy brood, her inquisition would fall by the wayside. Dinner with the Zook clan was no time for complicated questions and answers.
It was another loud and delicious meal, but she declined offers to stay for coffee and pie. She really was exhausted.
She called Bryce as soon as she returned to her room.
“I saw your earlier texts,” Taryn said. “Still nothing?”
“Yes, and no.”
“What does that mean?” she demanded.
“No sign of the white car, but I did pick up a tail. It was a blue Toyota Camry.”
“So what do you make of that?”
“You want my honest opinion, or do you want to sleep easy tonight?”
“Both. But tell me anyway.”
“I don’t think we’re dealing with a novice. They knew to switch cars, to throw you off.”
“Did they see you? Did they know it wasn’t me driving?”
“That depends. Are you ever known to wear a big, floppy hat?”
Taryn burst out laughing at the image his words inspired. “I would have loved to have seen you!”
“Hang around. Same place, same time tomorrow.”
She chose to focus on the positive, rather than the danger aspect. “So I get to keep the ‘Vette? Because I have to tell you, I think my cousins may have left a little drool on the hood. And just to be clear, I may have left a bit on the gearshift. That is one sweet ride, my friend.”
He didn’t share her playful mood. “To be on the safe side, I think you should stay at the farm tomorrow. Continue your online search from there. If anyone’s trolling the sites, the searches will come from a different IP address.”
“I suppose it’s just as well,” Taryn sighed. “I think Susannah conned me into helping make pickles tomorrow. Or maybe it’s jelly. To be honest, I’m so tired I didn’t really pay attention. I just agreed.”
“Well, you might need to know the difference,” he pointed out. She could hear the humor in his voice this time.
“Good point, but it will have to wait until tomorrow. Good night, Bryce.”
“Sleep well.”
It was a nice thought, but it didn’t pan out.
Her phone rang at twelve, two, and five. Each message was the same.
“Go home,” the electronic voice warned. “Don’t say you weren’t warned.”
Taryn tried to concentrate on the jelly-making process, but her nerves were frayed, and her mind was fuzzy with lack of sleep.
“Four cups of sugar, Taryn Clark,” Lillian stressed for the second time. “Stir it in slowly, like die Grossmammi showed you.”
“I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’ll make a mess of it and ruin your whole batch.”
“Nonsense. Simply pay more attention to your work.”
“I’ll try,” she promised.
“Won’t you be proud to take some jars back to your friends, and show them what you have learned?”
“Yes, of course. And it will make a nice thank-you gift for my neighbor. She’s been watching my duplex while I’m away.” She smiled, imagining Josie’s face when she presented her with the jelly, made in part by Taryn’s own hand. And Molly! She couldn’t imagine what her friend’s reaction might be. She suspected Molly was one of those people who just assumed food was produced at the grocery store.
The kitchen door swung open and Deborah came running in, her face flushed with excitement.
“Deborah!” Lillian rapped sharply. “What have I said about slamming the door?”
“I’m sorry, Mamm, but we just had another customer stop off the road. He bought one of Grossdaadi’s carvings, and a jar of pickles. And he gave me this extra!” She held out her palm, showing a crumpled five-dollar bill.
“My, we are certainly getting gut business these last few days,” Lillian said. She gave her niece a pleased smile as she washed the last of the strawberries. “You have brought us this good fortune, Taryn Clark.”
Taryn faltered, dumping the sugar too quickly into the boiling water. It landed with a plop, sending a purl of liquid heat to splash up onto her hand. “Oh!” she cried in surprise.
“Whatever happened? Are you okay?”
“Please, can you take over?” Taryn quickly handed the long-handled wooden spoon over to her aunt.
“You should run cold water over that,” the eldest of the Zook women advised. She set scalded jars onto the counter top, in anticipation of the sweet, tangy goodn
ess soon to fill them.
“And wrap it in clean cloth,” Caroline added.
“You know what? If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go up to my room and take care of this,” Taryn said, already edging her way toward the door.
Let them think her hand truly pained her. They didn’t need to know that it was her heart troubling her the most.
That, and her guilty conscience.
Before she even reached the deck, her phone rang. She looked down in dread, afraid she might see an unknown number. So far, the ominous messages had come from two such callers. She was relieved to see Molly’s number on her screen, until she heard her friend’s reason for calling.
After a brief chat, Molly got around to her message, “I was calling to tell you that a man dropped by the house yesterday. Said he was a former client of the firm and wanted to speak to you about a job offer. I gave him your number. I hope that was okay?”
“How did he know to come to your house? Who was he? What did he look like?”
“Uhm, older guy, I think with gray hair. Didn’t catch the whole name. Smith, I think it was. He said he pulled up at your house, just as I was leaving. I noticed that your ivy looked a little droopy when I watered it Friday, so I dropped by with some plant food. Anyway, he followed me, thinking I might be you.”
“That’s all he said? That he knew me from the firm? How did he know to go to my house?”
“I don’t know, Tar. I didn’t ask a lot of questions. He seemed like a nice-enough guy, and it’s not surprising that you would have job offers. You’re an excellent legal assistant.”
“Okay, Molly. Thanks for calling.”
“Are you trying to rush me off the phone?”
“Sorry, but I burned my hand making jelly. I need to put something on it.”
“Wait. You made jelly? Don’t tell me you’ve turned Amish on me!” her friend hooted.
“You can’t just turn Amish,” Taryn fairly snapped. “Look, Mol, I need to go. I’ll call you later, okay?”
“Sure. Take care of your hand. Oh, and bring me some of that jelly!”
Her friend’s laughter still echoed on the line when Taryn punched end.
She immediately tried Bryce, but the call went to voicemail. She sent him a text, instead.
I’m getting worried. They know I’m here. Customer traffic off the road has picked up in the last few days. Yesterday, someone went to my house in Philly. I suppose when they didn’t see my car here, they thought I went home. They don’t know I won’t give up so easily.
When he didn’t readily reply, Taryn took care of her hand. Tired from her restless night, she lay down across the bed and dozed.
She heard her phone bing sometime later. She saw a text, but it wasn’t from Bryce.
Roses are red, violets are blue.
You can hide, but I’ll find you.
Chapter 28
“Mamm says to tell you, you will have dinner with us again.”
Young Deborah delivered the message to Taryn’s door, on her way to help Pete herd chickens before nightfall.
Taryn’s smile was wistful. “I’m not sure I’ll be good company this evening, Deborah. But I appreciate the invitation.”
“I don’t think it was an invitation,” the girl said, slowly shaking her head. “It was more like a summons. You didn’t hear the sound of her voice.”
“Oh.” She had noticed that Lillian’s mood had been rather sharp today. It was so unlike her normally cheerful and easy-going aunt. Taryn worried she had something to do with it. “In that case, I would love to come.”
“Ooh, I think I hear another automobile! Maybe someone else will give me extra money!” The youth took off in excitement, before Taryn had an opportunity to warn her about talking to strangers.
Instinct told Taryn to stay out of sight, but curiosity drove her to the edge of the stairs. She peeked around the corner. Just as Deborah said, a maroon pickup eased up the driveway and came to rest behind Bryce’s borrowed car.
Effectively blocking me in? The sinister thought whispered through her head, urging her to stay hidden there in the shadows.
She watched as a tall, broad-shouldered man gracefully exited the truck. Her knees sagged in relief when she recognized Bryce.
“Bryce!” she called, waving to get his attention. “I’ll be right down!”
She ran back to the room to grab her phone and to pull a brush through her hair. She didn’t bother to wonder about that last action. She hurried back across the deck and down the stairs, only to find Deborah finalizing a sale.
“This young lady is quite the salesman,” Bryce informed her, but his dark eyes twinkled as he indicated the brown bag in his arms.
“So I see!” Taryn laughed. “Deborah, this is my friend, Bryce. Bryce, meet Deborah. She’s the young artist I told you about, and the queen of the chicken coop.”
The girl looked pleased, but like any good Amish, she was quick not to take credit for her talents. “It is God’s gift, shared through my humble hands.” She stashed the small assortment of jellies and jams, woodcarvings and handicrafts, into a large plastic tote, stowing them away for the evening. Tomorrow, they would come out again, in hopes of enticing more Englisch buyers.
Young Pete raced from the house, dashing past the gardens in the direction of the chicken coops. “Rooster’s out!” he called over his shoulder.
“Sorry, I must help him.” Deborah said hastily. In no time, she dashed across the yard and caught up with her younger brother.
“So. That’s the family, huh?” Bryce asked in amusement.
“Only part. Just wait about twenty minutes, when Lillian rings the dinner bell. They’ll come pouring out from the barns and the fields, like a mini army, dressed in aprons and suspenders.”
He peered down at the bag he held. “Have any need for apple butter and fresh peach preserves?”
She shook her head. “’Fraid not. I helped put up strawberry jelly today. I have the battle scars to prove it.” She held up the tiny pucker of red skin as proof.
“So it was jelly, not pickles.”
“Right. Why don’t you put that bag in the truck and we can sit on the gazebo? And whose truck is that, by the way?”
“Mine.” He saw the confusion that crinkled her forehead. “What? You think I drive that flashy car around when I’m on a stakeout? That’s for play. The truck is for work.”
“And my car?”
“Parked out of sight.”
She waited for him to stash the bag, tangible proof of young Deborah’s sales prowess. They walked together to the gazebo, admiring the lush yard in the waning hours of daylight.
“Great yard,” Bryce commented. “The Amish are known for their elaborate lawns and gardens. Makes you wonder where that ‘pride is a sin’ mantra comes into play.” He dipped his head closer to hers and stage-whispered, “You know they try to outdo their neighbors.”
“Lillian would no doubt say it is a tribute to God and the wonders of his grace.”
He eyed her with a curious look. “You’re really getting into this Amish lifestyle, aren’t you?”
Taryn led him across the boardwalk, to the gazebo extending over the pond. The swing sagged as they took their seats. “Do I think they’re good, honest, hard-working people? Yes. Do I think they would do anything to help a neighbor? Or a stranger, for that matter? Yes. Do I think I could ever live the way they do, working from dusk to dawn with few of the luxuries of modern-day life? Absolutely not. I admire them, but I don’t envy them.”
“Well said.”
They were quiet for a long moment, watching the ducks splash in the water and the grasses sway in the gentle breeze. It was a peaceful time of day, heavy with the settling of overhead clouds and the sounds of cattle lowing during evening milking. Taryn detected the measured clip-clop-jingle of a horse-drawn wagon approaching. Peter, no doubt, or Samuel, coming in from the fields after toiling all afternoon in the hot summer sun. She could hear the squawk of the chickens and
little Pete’s exasperated cries as he tried to corral them. Taryn smiled, imaging the sight that must be.
When her eyes roamed over to the adjoining King Farms, the smile dimmed. She took a deep breath and turned to her companion. “Why are you here, Bryce?” she asked quietly.
There was nothing rude in her inquiry. Bryce understood her concern.
“I heard back from my old Navy buddy. As it turns out, he actually knows Ahndray Lamont. He’s bought horses from him before.”
“You’re kidding! What a crazy coincidence!”
“Not according to my buddy. He says your father is well known for raising the best horses in the south of France.”
“Does he know him personally? Does he know anything about his personal life? Does he have a wife?”
He answered in the order she asked. “Yes. Yes. No. Tabor—my friend—does know him. He’s been in his home before and had dinner there, several years ago. He says there’s no wife, or girlfriend. Apparently, your father is more the solitary type.”
“So this is good news, right? We’ve established a solid connection. Why did I think you came bearing bad news?”
When he didn’t answer, Taryn frowned. “Oh. I get it. That means Rebecca never made it out. She didn’t make it across the ocean to find her true love and to live happily ever after.” The news saddened her, but hardly surprised her.
“I learned a bit about his father.”
It was the way he said it.
“And there it is,” Taryn mumbled. “The bad news you came to deliver.”
“It’s news, at any rate.”
“So give it to me.”
“It seems that Ahndray’s mother had a long-term affair with an American businessman. Even though the man has a wife and family here in the States, he had a second home there, with her. When Ahndray was old enough, his father arranged for a work visa to the United States and paid for him to come here. He didn’t acknowledge him as his son, but he did take him on as an apprentice, of sorts.”
“Sounds like a swell dad.” Taryn’s tone was sardonic. “Especially the part where he later has him deported.”