Gathering Shadows

by Nancy Mehl

  As Reuben walked a few feet away from the porch to get good reception on his phone, Dad took his place in the rocking chair next to me. “Why are you under suspicion?”

  I told him about Paul’s earlier visit and his concerns about my involvement in August’s death.

  “That’s ridiculous,” Dad fumed. “Are you sure you want this man to help us? He doesn’t sound very intelligent to me.”

  “I think he’s our best bet,” I said quietly. “I don’t want to blow this. We can’t alert the Fishers that we’re on to them.” I smiled in the dark. “Good work, by the way. If it wasn’t for your tenacity, I’d have given up and gone home.”

  “I want Ryan back as much as you do, Emmie. Maybe more.”

  “Can you imagine what this would do to Mom? If we brought Ryan home?”

  “If this boy is your brother, he won’t be the Ryan you know.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that he’s lived with the Fishers longer than he lived with us. His personality won’t be the same. He won’t be . . . our Ryan.” Dad sighed. “At least it seems the Fishers are good people. That makes me feel better.”

  “They may be victims too. Just like Ryan.”

  “I know. We need to get all the facts before we accuse anyone of kidnapping.”

  “But if they’re completely innocent, why did they leave?” I asked. “They know this Elijah isn’t their son. Maybe they think they love him, but keeping a child that doesn’t belong to you isn’t love.”

  My father was silent.

  “I’m not talking about you, Dad. Let’s stay focused on Ryan.”

  “All I’m saying is that we should reserve judgment until we have the truth. Right now all I want to do is find my son.” Dad rubbed his eyes. “I need to tell him how sorry I am for failing him. For not being the father I should have been. And I need to apologize for the last words I said to him.” He dropped his hand and looked over at me. “I guess I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing. To Ryan, to you, to your mother.”

  “God forgave you a long time ago, Dad. We will too. All you can do is try to make amends and move on. Our reactions belong to us—not to you. I just listened to a sermon that meant a great deal to me. The pastor pointed out that we can’t move forward with our lives by looking behind us at the past.”

  My father didn’t respond. We sat in silence until Reuben stepped back up onto the porch.

  “Paul’s on his way. He wasn’t too happy about my call. I think he was already in bed.”

  “Speaking of being in bed, I wonder if I should wake up Zac,” I said. “He doesn’t like to be left out of the loop.”

  Reuben smiled. “You talk about Zac as if he were your brother.”

  I chuckled. “On the way up here, I was ready to strangle him. Now he really does feel like family. Weird.”

  “He seems like a good kid,” Dad said. “I like him.”

  “Let him sleep,” Reuben said. “We’ll catch him up in the morning. He’s been through a lot.”

  “Okay, but you can take the blame for it if he gets upset.”

  “I’ll take that responsibility.” Reuben yawned widely. “I think we should put some coffee on. We may be up for a while.”

  “I’ll do it,” I said. “Won’t take long.”

  I got up and went to the kitchen. After watching Esther prepare coffee in her old percolator, I was pretty sure I could handle it. My coffeemaker at home was certainly easier to deal with, but I actually preferred the taste of the coffee brewed in the ancient pot. I rinsed it out, filled it with water, put the metal basket inside, and added two scoops of coffee to it. Then I put on the lid, set it on the stove, and lit the burner. Just to be sure, I waited around a few minutes until it began to percolate.

  By the time I left the kitchen, Reuben and Dad had come inside and were sitting in the living room. Dad was talking about the official investigation into Ryan’s abduction.

  “Coffee’s brewing,” I said. “Shouldn’t be long.”

  Reuben nodded distractedly. “Lyndon,” he said, “can I ask you something else?”

  Dad straightened up in his chair. “Sure. What is it?”

  “Tell me again about the man who was blackmailing you.”

  He took a deep breath, trying to pull up painful memories. I could tell the past was still raw and tender. “He told me he knew the nurse who helped me switch babies that night. Before she died, she told him what she’d done. I guess she felt guilty about it.” He shrugged. “At the time, she sure didn’t seem to have a problem. In fact, she said she was happy to send Emily to a good home instead of into foster care. I guess over the years, she changed her attitude.”

  Reuben frowned. “Something about that story bothers me.”

  “What is it, Reuben?” I asked.

  “What kind of a friend is at your bedside as you’re dying? Who is the person you share your deepest secret with?”

  His question took me aback. I looked over at my father.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Someone very close.”

  Reuben nodded. “Like a boyfriend or a husband.”

  “You might be right,” Dad said. “But what does it matter?”

  “It matters,” I said, answering for Reuben, “because we might be able to discover who this man was.”

  “It wouldn’t change anything.”

  “I know that, Dad, but if we can find—what was his name?”

  “Mac,” my father said slowly. “He called himself Mac.”

  “If we can find Mac, we may be able to prove the link between Ryan and the Fishers.” I held my hands out, palms up. “If they’re innocent, this could prove it. And if they’re not . . .”

  “Going after him will definitely bring attention back to Ryan and to us,” Dad said. “Do you want to be in the national spotlight again? You saw what happened to that family in Salt Lake City.”

  “Of course not,” I said gently. “But don’t you think it’s time for the truth? All of the truth? The most important person now is Ryan. Proving that the Fishers were unwilling accomplices in his abduction could keep his current family intact.”

  “It’s worth the risk,” Reuben said, staring at me. “You’re the investigator. Investigate.”

  “I haven’t done a lot of actual investigating, but I’ll do my best,” I said. “Dad, do you remember the name of that nurse?”

  “How could I ever forget? She changed our lives. Her name was Marian. Marian Belker.”

  “Okay, I’ll see what I can find out about Marian. I’ll look through Social Security death records. Old obituaries. Maybe I can find something that will lead us to Mac.”

  “She worked as a nurse,” Dad said. “Can’t you check hospitals in Illinois to see if she’s listed?”

  I nodded. “Sure, but I’m not certain that will tell us what we need to know, although it might at least give us her last known address.”

  The smell of coffee reminded me about the pot on the stove. “Reuben, why don’t you help me with the coffee?”

  He stood up and stretched. “Sounds good. I’m so tired I can barely keep my eyes open.”

  I headed toward the kitchen, and he followed me. “Where are the cups?”

  I pointed toward the cabinets. “Over there. You get cups and saucers, and I’ll get sugar and cream.”

  “You got it.”

  I found the tray Esther used for carrying coffee and food. I put the sugar bowl on it and got the cream out of the refrigerator. Reuben brought the cups over to me.

  “That was really sharp,” I said, “thinking about Mac’s relationship with Marian Belker. It should have occurred to me.”

  He put the cups down on the tray. “No, it shouldn’t have,” he said, taking my hand. “You’ve been through a lot of emotional upheaval. Right now, you’re just trying to hang on.” He raised my hand to his lips. “I’m really proud of you.”

  “What are you talking about? I haven’t done anything to be proud of.”

/>   He kissed my hand. “You’re wrong. Most people would be a basket case by now, but you’re keeping yourself together. You’re still kind and generous. Even with your father. After what he told you, you could have gone ballistic. Ordered him out of your life. Shut him out completely. But instead, you’re trying to work through it. Understand him.”

  I shook my head. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. After this is over, I’ll probably have a complete nervous breakdown.”

  “I don’t believe that. But I do believe you’ll find a way to make your relationship with your father and mother stronger than ever. That’s the kind of person you are. I’m also confident you’ll have your brother back soon.” He kissed me gently. “You’re a very strong woman, Wynter. Stronger than you realize.”

  “I hope you’re right.” I gazed into his eyes. “But if I decide somewhere along the way to fall into a million pieces, will you help pick me up and put me back together?”

  He smiled and kissed my nose. “Always.”

  We were interrupted by a loud knock on the front door. Reuben quickly grabbed another cup and saucer, picked up the tray, and we both hurried to the living room. We got there just as Paul Gleason was coming in the front door.

  “I’m not sure what I’m doing here,” he said with a scowl. “Couldn’t this wait until morning?”

  “No,” Reuben said. “As I told you on the phone, it’s important. There are some things we’ve kept from you. Things you need to know.” He pointed toward the couch. “Have a seat. This could take a while.”

  Paul glared at him. “So you’ve been lying to me?”

  “Not lying, really. After we explain, I hope you’ll understand why we kept quiet.”

  Paul glared at him. “If we weren’t friends—”

  “I know. You’d throw me to the floor, slap handcuffs on me, and haul me off to jail forthwith.”

  Paul’s annoyed expression relaxed a bit, and the corners of his mouth twitched. “Hardly,” he said. “I was thinking more of walking out on you.”

  “Just give us a few minutes. I think you’ll change your mind.”

  “Does it have anything to do with August Metzger’s death?”

  “Good question. I wish I had the answer.”

  Paul walked slowly toward the couch, his reluctance showing in every step he took. After he sat down, I poured him a cup of coffee and put the cream and sugar within his reach. As he picked up his cup, I had to wonder if this was a mistake. Ryan was so close. The voice from my dreams echoed in my head. Would I finally be able to answer his calls for help, or would this decision send him out of my reach forever?

  Chapter

  Twenty-Two

  “So that’s what’s going on,” Reuben said. “Everything we know.”

  Paul sat silently through Reuben’s detailed recounting of Ryan’s disappearance, my discovery of a picture that led me to believe he might be in Sanctuary, and everything that had taken place after that. When Reuben finished, Paul just stared at him. What was he thinking? Did he believe us?

  “I’m trying to understand this,” he said finally, “but it’s difficult.” He turned his eyes to me. “Why didn’t you just contact us when you got here? We could have investigated immediately and saved everyone all this upheaval.”

  “Because I wasn’t certain the boy in that picture was Ryan. It was just a photograph. Not enough to go on. My family lived for years under a microscope. Opening that up again for no reason . . . I couldn’t take that chance. I had to be sure.”

  “After Wynter arrived,” Reuben said, “and realized the kind of town Sanctuary is, she didn’t want to bring us unwanted attention. As you’re aware, we have some residents who don’t need the media to show up here.”

  “If Elijah Fisher really is Ryan Erwin,” Paul said solemnly, “there may not be any way to stop that.”

  “But why?” I asked. “The case is cold. No one cares about it anymore. Isn’t there a way we can just settle things quietly?”

  Paul shook his head. “I don’t think so. I can’t cover up something like this.”

  “Even if it has nothing to do with August’s death?” Dad said.

  “I’m not so sure that’s true,” Paul replied slowly.

  Reuben carefully studied his friend. “What do you mean? Do you have reason to suspect otherwise?”

  Paul leaned against the back of the couch, his features tense. “Look, the file full of papers we found in August’s room contained copies of newspaper articles. Some of them had to do with the abduction of babies from Missouri hospitals.” He locked his gaze on me. “Others had to do with the kidnapping of your brother, Miss Evans.”

  I was stunned by this revelation. August had kept my real name in his billfold, but it hadn’t occurred to me that it was associated with Ryan.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just don’t understand.”

  “I don’t either,” Paul said firmly. “Is there something else you aren’t telling me?”

  My father and I looked at each other. I saw the warning in his expression. Before I could say anything, Reuben spoke up.

  “Someone sent the same clippings to Wynter while she was here—the ones about the babies, I mean.”

  Paul frowned. “Why? Why was August interested in these cases? Is that what got him killed?”

  The three of us stared at him silently. What could we tell him? What truths should be avoided?

  “Look, Deputy,” my dad said quietly. “I don’t want to drag up things that aren’t important to this situation.”

  “If you want me to help you, you need to tell me everything you know,” Paul said. “If it doesn’t pertain to the case, I’ll keep it to myself.”

  “If you want complete honesty from us,” I said, “we want the same thing from you.”

  Paul raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

  “What was it in August’s papers that made you think I had something to do with his death?”

  Paul leaned forward and picked up his coffee cup. It was obvious he was stalling. After a couple of sips, he set it down again.

  “For crying out loud, Paul,” Reuben said with exasperation. “I promised Wynter and her father that you would listen and help us. Wynter’s not a criminal. She’s an innocent person who lost her only sibling as a child. She’s a victim, Paul. Can’t you see that?”

  Reuben’s passionate pleading seemed to have an effect. Paul sighed and relaxed back against the couch. “I don’t know you, Wynter, but I know Reuben. And I trust him.” He studied me for a moment. “I’ll be as candid as I can, but you must understand that I’m in a rather difficult position. I work for the sheriff, and he’s tough. If I say or do something to impede the investigation of a murder, I could get into big trouble.”

  “We would never ask you to do that,” Reuben said. “You should know me better than that.”

  Paul nodded. “I do.”

  “Please, Paul,” I said, “tell me why you thought I was involved with August’s murder.”

  He sighed deeply and ran his hand through his dark hair. “August Metzger lived in a small room he rented from a couple I don’t think you’ve met. The Andersons live about four blocks away from The Oil Lamp. He had very little in earthly possessions, but underneath a floorboard, we found a box with papers, the ones I mentioned. We also discovered his journal. In that journal, your name was mentioned several times. Most of the entries are just your name, along with dates. Some passages don’t make sense. Must be some kind of shorthand only August understood. But the day before he went missing, he wrote ‘In fear for my life. Wynter Evans must know the truth.’ ”

  I gasped. “Know the truth about what?”

  Paul shook his head. “That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it? He obviously thought you knew something, and because of it, his life was in danger.”

  “Wait a minute,” my father interjected. “What if he was saying that his life was in danger, and he wanted to tell her the truth about something?”

&nb
sp; Paul nodded. “That occurred to me.”

  “Look, Paul,” I said. “I can’t explain August’s notes, but I need you to find Elijah before I lose him for good. And without red lights and sirens, please. We can’t allow the Fishers to get spooked.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief when he nodded in agreement. “We’ll tread carefully. I don’t want to accuse them of something they didn’t do. Nor do I want them to disappear if they do have your brother. There are a lot of small rural towns in Missouri. A few are like Sanctuary—private and closed off. Getting lost in one of them is easier than you might think.”

  “Then how do we proceed?” Reuben asked.

  Paul frowned at him. “You don’t. I do. I’ll visit Samuel Fisher myself. I’m sure he knows where his brother is. Maybe the threat of becoming involved in a kidnapping case will convince him to tell me the truth.” He pulled a small notebook from one pocket and a pen from another one. “Reuben, who are Nathan and Anna Fisher close to in Sanctuary?”

  Reuben rattled off several names. The only ones I recognized were Jacob Troyer, the pastor of Sanctuary Mennonite Church, and Sarah Miller, the teacher at the small private school.

  “Why don’t you meet me in the morning about nine?” Paul said. “We’ll talk to these folks. Then, unless we have the information we need, I’ll drive over to Nathan’s place.” He nodded at me. “We’ll find Elijah, Wynter. He can’t be that far away.”

  “Thank you. Does this mean you don’t suspect me anymore?”

  Paul rewarded me with a half smile. “You’re off the hook . . . for now. Just remember that I have to go wherever the clues take me. I have no other choice.”

  “I understand, but I can assure you that I had nothing to do with August’s death.”

  “I’m pretty sure you didn’t, but the best way we can keep you out of this is to find his killer. And some motive would be helpful. Right now, I have no idea why anyone would want to murder this man. He might have been a conspiracy nut, but he seemed perfectly harmless to me.” Paul stood up. “I’ve got to get going. It’s been an unusually long day. I suggest you all get some sleep.” He pointed at Reuben. “I’ll see you in the morning.”