Toxin Alert

by Tyler Anne Snell

  Aria, who’d stepped aside to call her fiancé, joined him when she was through. Her slight frame often got her mistaken for a teenager in just the right light. It was one reason she fought so hard to be taken seriously. But everyone on TCD knew that she might have been small, but she was mighty. Now, though, she looked like they all felt—frustrated.

  “If the CDC or CSI missed anything, whatever it was didn’t have a shelf life long enough to still be around now,” she said. “Everything has been cleaned up so well that you can’t even tell anything happened.”

  Aria motioned to the pasture they were overlooking now. A worn red barn stood just behind them. The same red barn where Isaiah Yoder had been first examined by the doctor.

  She was right, though. The light dusting of snow blanketed the ground, hiding any evidence that twenty-four cattle had died on the field less than two days before. And the beautiful scenery around the farm? It hadn’t changed a lick.

  It was still beautiful, breathtakingly so.

  The air was cold and crisp and highlighted the contrast between the white snow and the evergreen trees. No traffic could be heard bustling by and there wasn’t an ounce of light pollution. Just stars in wait, ready to shine.

  It was a simple, natural beauty.

  Which made the attack that much more of a slap to the senses.

  “I don’t understand why anyone would do this in general,” Selena said, sidling up to Carly. She leaned against the fence and breathed out a sigh. “Never mind to a community whose whole spiel is about wanting to live closer to the land.”

  “Which makes whoever is behind this particularly malicious.” Whatever tension there was between Selena and Axel was gone for the moment as he followed up to her point. He leaned against the fence, also taking in the same view. “They poisoned the land that this community cherishes,” he said.

  Carly shook her head, not to disagree but a small and futile attempt to distance herself from the present...and her past.

  She rolled her shoulders back to try to move even farther away from the now-rising ache and tried to focus on the sunset.

  A hush fell over the team around her.

  TCD had become family to Carly in the last three years, but she couldn’t guess at what they were individually thinking as they all stared out across the field.

  It wasn’t until the sun was down and darkness invaded the world around them that they packed into their vehicles and left Potter’s Creek.

  If they had known they were being watched, they might have gone much sooner.

  Chapter Four

  The Castle in the Trees Bed & Breakfast was, as one would guess, surrounded mostly by trees. Just outside of the Potter’s Creek town limits, it was a shock against the evergreens with its light blue paint, bright white porch columns, faded dark roof that was partially steepled over the two-story parlor, and warm florescent lights, pouring from the windows to let everyone know that, while it was near Amish country, it wholly embraced electricity.

  It also wholly embraced the Christmas spirit.

  Wreaths with fake holly were pinned above every window and door while icicle lights hung about the railing along the wraparound porch. Three Christmas trees were situated around the first floor and, from the road leading up to the inn, two of those could be seen through the windows.

  It was all very festive and merry.

  The newcomers who had just gone inside were not.

  Dressed in their winter coats and boots and badges and guns, they were not at all what Amish country warranted.

  Not at all.

  “I need you to keep an eye on them.”

  The voice belonged to a man who didn’t have a badge, but he did have a gun. It was in the waistband of his pants, hidden by his coat, but the woman knew it was there. So did the young man next to her. They both had seen it the first time they’d met him and the few times he’d thought to remind them of it.

  They all stood together some distance from the inn they were observing, far enough away that they could not be seen.

  “While they’re here and when they’re in Potter’s Creek,” he continued, eyes like a hawk on the men and women disappearing into the inn. A woman hesitated and looked at the bicycle leaning against the front porch stairs. Then she turned her gaze out to the woods.

  The man didn’t flinch as she swept over their hiding spot past the tree line.

  “That one,” he said when the woman finally went inside. “That one might be trouble.”

  “They will all be trouble,” the young man whispered. She reached out and touched his wrist to quiet him, but the older man already had decided he didn’t like the note.

  “They might be trained but they’re out of their element here.” He stroked his beard. Then he was smiling. He did that a lot. It never brought anything good with it.

  “We stay ahead of them and we stay off their radar. And we do that by you two telling me everything you can about them and what they’re doing. Got it?”

  The bed-and-breakfast twinkled in the distance. The woman adjusted the strings on her bonnet. She nodded.

  “Good,” he said. Then that smile was back. “Because we all would really hate for you to break our deal, now wouldn’t we?”

  It wasn’t a question for her to answer.

  It was only another excuse for him to hear his own voice.

  When he left them between the trees, she wanted so much to go home.

  But he was right.

  They had a deal.

  One she would not break.

  “You will search their rooms tomorrow while they are gone,” she ordered the only other person in the world who knew why she wouldn’t betray the other man.

  He rubbed his bare chin, a habit he’d picked up in the last few years.

  “And what will you do?” he asked, his voice so quiet the wind could have taken it without a fight.

  “I will protect us.” She stood up straight and felt darkness in her heart, as ugly hate replaced her profound guilt. “Even if it means hurting them.”

  * * *

  NOAH MILLER WAS an early riser.

  Carly should have expected as much. He owned and operated a farm with minimal staff to cover him when he was gone. He also had mostly grown up Amish, a lifestyle that required hard work. Unless he’d left the community to shirk a hard work ethic and an early rise-and-shine time, the limited information Carly had on him showed a man who had every reason to be punctual, erring on the side of early.

  Yet when she looked up from her chair out on the inn’s porch, one hand hovered over her notepad, the other around her coffee thermos, she still was surprised to see his truck coming up the drive.

  Never mind the trickle of excitement that danced within her.

  Noah was a mystery tucked inside another mystery and, for the life of her, Carly couldn’t get past the urge to want to dig a little deeper. She had always been a curious creature. It was one reason why Alana had said she would make an excellent agent when the offer first came her way.

  That and her extensive knowledge of biochemical weapons.

  He put the truck in Park and exited the vehicle with a small, polite smile. Though there was nothing polite about the thoughts that joined her trickle of excitement at the sight of him.

  His long dark coat was on but open, showing a red-and-black flannel button-up that was tucked into his dark jeans, cinched together by a belt with a silver buckle that shone. All items of clothing fit him and fit him well. It was by no means flashy compared to what Carly saw on the daily in Traverse City, but compared to the muted, no-frills clothing of the Amish, it made the man stand out.

  It also didn’t hurt that Noah was undeniably good-looking. Carly thought she might have overplayed his classic good looks from the day before but, as he approached the stairs of the front porch, she mentally confirmed she had, in
fact, maybe underestimated their impact. Though, without his cowboy hat on, his long, tousled hair gave him the added appearance of being more rough-and-tumble than before.

  It was a stimulating sight.

  And 100 percent not the right time.

  “Morning,” Noah said. He shook the paper coffee cup in his hand a little and motioned to the thermos she was holding. “I came with a peace offering of coffee but I see you’re already drinking.”

  Carly tucked her notepad into her jacket pocket and tried her best to continue to look normal. Most people didn’t realize how often they were offered coffee, but Carly noted every time it happened to her. It was one reason she always traveled with one or two of her thermoses.

  Carly Welsh always made her own coffee.

  No exceptions.

  “A peace offering?” she said in return. “Normally those come after you’ve done something that someone else won’t like. What exactly have you done that I won’t like?”

  She gathered her phone and coffee and mentally went through her room upstairs to try to remember if she’d left behind anything she’d need or if she’d forgotten to lock the door. Her badge and gun were already secured on her belt and in the holster at her hip. When they were on a case, she rarely was caught outside of their accommodations without either.

  “It’s for me saying I wouldn’t help yesterday,” he replied, as they walked to his vehicle. “You were only trying to do your job.”

  He went to the passenger side of his truck and opened the door for her. If Carly wasn’t holding her coffee and her phone, she might have commented on the move. As it was, she accepted the courtesy and slid into the seat.

  “But you ended up agreeing to help in the end. Which I appreciate, but I am curious why you did. You seemed pretty determined the first, and second, time you said no.”

  Noah sighed before closing her door and seemed to keep the sigh going until he was behind the wheel again. The cab of the truck was warm. He deposited the extra coffee in the cup holder next to his own.

  “The way Isaac and the others were treating you rubbed me the wrong way. Then I realized I wasn’t doing much better. Plus, I might live just outside of Potter’s Creek, but the town is still my home. Someone starts attacking it like this and we all should be doing our part to help.”

  “Not to mention three farms have been targeted so far and you, too, happen to own a farm.”

  He nodded.

  “There is that,” he admitted. “I have more reasons to help rather than decide to mind my own business. Speaking of—” the engine came to life but he pulled a piece of paper out of the center console before reversing “—I did as much digging as my brand of shovel would allow yesterday and got the list you wanted.”

  A different kind of excitement started to get Carly’s blood pumping.

  The excitement of a lead.

  Only two, by the looks of it.

  “You warned me that it would be a short list,” she said. “This is definitely a short list.”

  “And honestly it’s more than I expected to get.” He gave her a quick look. “You do have some knowledge about the Amish, right? They aren’t exactly known for grudges, violence and driving people to murder.”

  “It’s the people we never suspect of maliciousness that usually are the most capable of it. That’s what makes the surprise that much worse.” Carly felt her mood darken. “We can’t write anyone off just because they seem like a good person.”

  Noah whistled.

  “I thought it was innocent until proven guilty.”

  Carly rolled her eyes. She’d stepped into that one.

  “In my line of work we’re not here to sentence the bad guy, or even to put him on trial, we’re here to find them. To stop the bad guys.”

  To make sure they don’t hurt anyone ever again, she wanted to add.

  But Carly could feel the cynical side starting to seep through her words. She didn’t want to delve into the nitty-gritty of her past cases, or her life for that matter, so she was ready to let that thread of the convo lie.

  However, Noah wasn’t ready to let it go.

  “I wouldn’t call myself a natural optimist but, even to me, that sounds like a grim outlook to have for people. Do you really think whoever did this is from the Amish community?”

  That was a question Carly and the rest of the TCD had been repeating during their shared meal at the inn the night before...and a few times before everyone went to do their own tasks that morning. It was out of character for the culprit to be Amish but, then again, without more information they couldn’t rule anyone out.

  “I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t pursue every potential lead,” she said, careful with her words. “I can’t count how many times I’ve heard people say they thought they knew someone after that same someone did something horrific.”

  “Like when you see friends, neighbors and coworkers during interviews about a shooter or serial killer.”

  Carly nodded.

  “Exactly. Most people never see it coming. And only the lucky ones can wonder about it all later.”

  Out of her periphery she saw Noah shake his head.

  “I just can’t imagine someone from Potter’s Creek killing. Especially with something like anthrax. They’re humble and quiet as a whole.”

  “And Ted Bundy was a charming man,” Carly hated to point out. “Monsters don’t always look like monsters. Mostly they just look like normal people.”

  Noah let out another long sigh.

  It gave Carly a few moments to readjust in her seat, trying to find a modicum of relief from the vise tightening in her chest.

  Then it was time to focus on the paper in her hands. Not spout philosophy about good versus evil in modern society.

  “So you have two people here that might want to do harm to the community?” she asked. “Are their houses a part of the tour?”

  He took the turn out of the inn’s long drive and pointed toward Potter’s Creek. Some snow stuck to the ground but it was balding in most places, showing sprouts of dark brown and green here and there. The cold was still around, but Carly figured without checking her phone for the temperature that it was a little warmer than the day before based solely on the fact that her nose was neither cold nor runny. Still, she had her black beanie tucked into her inner jacket pocket just in case her ears became too cold.

  “Only one,” Noah answered. “And he just so happens to be our first stop.”

  Chapter Five

  The Zook homestead housed a family of six and, compared to the five farms that were in Potter’s Creek, was small. That didn’t take away from its appeal, though. The eldest Zook still living had watched his father build the simple cottage and, through time, had made additions to it to accommodate his growing family. That family now comprised Vernon and Sarah and their children Katie, Annie, Eli and Mervin.

  Carly ran her thumb over the ink on the paper Noah had given her.

  It was a small, subtle movement, but Noah couldn’t help but appreciate the sight.

  Carly was unlike any other woman he’d met so far, from her bite, her blatant skepticism and her pinpoint focus on the mystery she was trying to solve. She was keeping him on his toes less than twenty-four hours after appearing in Potter’s Creek.

  Which was why he was in Potter’s Creek on a Tuesday morning, pulled over on the side of the road and staring at the house in the distance.

  Because he sure would have been flat-footed and on his farm right now if the FBI agent wasn’t currently riding shotgun with a badge on her belt and a crinkle in her brow.

  “So Eli is our person of interest,” she surmised after Noah had given her a quick set of facts about the family.

  Among their numbers and names, he’d also noted that they were one of the few families who had made a living in a trade rather than farming i
n Potter’s Creek. Vernon Zook was a carpenter and had gone into business with a neighboring family five years prior. He was also one of the few Amish who had a separate shed structure out back that utilized electricity strictly for power tools, an uncommon but accepted practice given his vocation.

  Noah nodded. He put on the truck’s flashers and shifted to Park, cutting the engine. While Noah had gotten her the list and was her tour guide, he wasn’t going to be a part of the equation when it was time to ask more pointed questions.

  Right now Noah’s only job was to drive her through Potter’s Creek and call out facts about the Amish community. He wasn’t eager to offer anything more.

  Potter’s Creek already had mixed feelings about him. It was probably better not to align himself completely with the investigating FBI. By the glares and stiff answers he’d gotten the day before while making the list, they were tolerating him but in no way appreciative of his presence.

  The feeling’s mutual, Potter’s Creek.

  “Yep. That’s where you’ll find Eli and his family,” he said. “He’s sixteen and, word is, has a temper.”

  “A temper?” Carly repeated, tilting her head a little to the side. “That’s not uncommon for a teenager. Or for most adults. I personally have a temper when my caffeine runs low.”

  Noah could agree with that.

  “True but apparently his temper ran a little too hot last month when Isaiah Yoder’s daughter, Rebecca, also sixteen, wouldn’t consider Eli for a courtship. Instead she started dating one of the Haas boys after turning him down.”

  Carly tilted her head to the other side in question. Her blond hair shifted at the movement, its waves softening her severe look just enough to make him wonder what she liked to do in her free time. Surely it wasn’t riding with strangers with a gun strapped to her side.

  “And since both the Yoder and Haas farms were affected, him being angry at getting rejected makes him a suspect?”