Lancaster County Reckoning

by Kit Wilkinson

  Thomas frowned down at her, his face darkening with suspicion. “But you are Jesse’s daughter?”

  She nodded. “But no one knows that. I only just found out myself.”

  The Amish man shook his head up and down as if he understood her words, but Darcy felt like he didn’t believe her. She could hardly blame him. She had trouble believing it herself. After years of being told her father was dead, it had been a shock to have Jesse contact her.

  “Okay. Let’s just concentrate on Uncle Jesse,” he said.

  “He’s your uncle?” Did that mean this man was her cousin?

  “No, but lots of people call him that around here. When I was a kid, he didn’t like us calling him Mister.”

  “Oh.” Darcy tried to slow down her breathing. It was hard to imagine this massive, intimidating man had ever been a child.

  She’d rarely seen such an imposing figure, so tall and strong, dressed in black trousers and a green button-down. Dark curls spilled out from under his hat and his beard—if you could call it one—was made of thin, sparse stubble, shaved clean to the edges of his broad face. No mustache—which she had heard was the Amish way. His wide brown eyes had golden flecks around the pupils, which seemed to pulse as he stared down at her. He was a Goliath of a man, one continuous string of muscle. If he had been around earlier, whenever the attack had taken place, she doubted anyone would have touched Jesse.

  Poor Jesse. She knelt beside him and held his hand. Thomas sat opposite, his eyes closed. She guessed that he was praying as she saw his lips move in silent speech from time to time. She was thankful he asked her no more questions.

  And he’d been right. It wasn’t long before help arrived. The EMS workers quickly strapped Jesse on a gurney and started him on fluids. She and Thomas followed the gurney to the ambulance, and watched as it was loaded inside.

  On the one hand, she was thankful for Thomas’s presence and his ability to answer questions she couldn’t—about any medical conditions Jesse had and whether he was allergic to any medications. But on the other hand, she couldn’t help resenting him just a little for knowing her own father so much better than she did herself.

  When the ambulance was ready to drive away, she and Thomas looked at each other.

  “I’m going to follow. You want a ride with me?” she asked.

  “Are you sure?” he said hesitantly.

  Was he kidding? After that phone call, she wasn’t exactly keen on being alone. She nodded.

  Soon, they were at the hospital. The hours blurred together as they waited for news on Jesse’s condition.

  Small groups of Amish men and women came through the waiting area. They would talk quietly with Thomas, glance her way once or twice then leave. Thomas stayed on one side of the room. She chose to sit at the other side. She didn’t want to talk or meet more Amish people. She didn’t want to explain who she was or why she was there.

  And certainly she didn’t want to talk about the phone call. She didn’t even want to think about it. That hard robotic voice and the person who, unaccountably, knew her. Knew who she was. And knew her connection to Jesse. Someone who, if they really were connected to the attack against Jesse as they’d implied, had almost killed her father. The thought of it sent a shiver down her spine.

  She shook away the terrifying thoughts. Right now she just wanted some news about her father. Was he going to live? Was she going to find out why everyone had lied to her for so many years? Or was Jesse going to leave her almost as quickly as he had come back into her life?

  “I’m going to get a coffee. Could I get you one?” Thomas stood over her. His long dark curls, freed from his black felt hat, which he twisted nervously in his hands, sprung around his tanned face.

  “Sure.” Darcy reached in her bag for money.

  “No. It’s on me,” he said. “But why don’t you come down to the cafeteria with me? It will be good to sit in a different seat for a few minutes.”

  He hadn’t seemed interested in talking to her in the hours up to now. Why the change? Realization struck as she recalled watching him speak quietly to a doctor at the end of the hall a few minutes earlier.

  “You’ve had news?” Darcy stood so quickly her head felt light.

  Instead of answering, Thomas nodded toward the elevator bank. She followed him out of the waiting area, into the elevator, then down the hall to the cafeteria. She wanted news of Jesse. Even if it meant talking to this stranger.

  “Thank you for the ride to the hospital,” he said, handing her a hot cup.

  “Of course,” she said. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  They sat opposite each other at one of the cafeteria tables. Darcy stared into the black liquid, watching steam swirl up from the cup. She took a drink. It was bitter and stale, and as it hit her stomach, she was reminded that she’d skipped breakfast and hadn’t had a chance to eat lunch.

  “So, how is he?” she asked at last. She had a feeling that the news wasn’t going to be good or he would have already told her.

  “They are operating on him.” Thomas’s voice was quiet and strained with emotion. “But...apparently there’s some internal bleeding and they are having a hard time stopping it.”

  “So what does that mean?”

  “They are going to try another procedure. If it works, it will stabilize his condition.”

  “And if not?”

  “If it doesn’t work...then they don’t expect him to live through the night.”

  “What?” Darcy had not expected good news but she hadn’t expected anything as bad as this. “That can’t be. There must be something we can do. Maybe we need a second opinion?”

  She pushed away from the table, fighting tears of rage and fear. Thomas grabbed her gently by the wrist. His hand felt strong and warm as he pulled her back to her seat.

  “Dr. Jamison is one of the best ER doctors in the Northeast. He and his team are doing all they can. It’s in God’s hands.”

  Seemed more like Jesse was in this doctor’s hands, not God’s. And she wondered why one of the best doctors would be working all the way out here. But she couldn’t muster the energy to ask.

  Darcy slumped back into the chair. She felt so out of place and helpless. And confused. It wasn’t like her at all. “It’s just that... I don’t know how to deal with all of this. I just found out my father has actually been alive all this time and now he’s...well, beaten almost to death. I just wish there was something I could do to help. And yet, I don’t even know if it’s my place to help or if Jesse would even want me to.”

  “It’s okay. It will all get sorted out. These things take time. The doctors are doing everything they can to save him. Plus, I know Jesse pretty well and I can tell you for sure and certain that he is a very strong man.”

  “I just hate doing nothing. Just sitting here and waiting.”

  “Well, there is something you can do. Something we all can do.”

  “What’s that?” She lifted her head.

  “We can pray.”

  “Oh.” Pray? Really? Darcy looked away and tried to keep her facial expression neutral. It wasn’t that she thought praying was stupid. It just wasn’t for her. “Of course... I guess I was thinking of doing something more active and practical, maybe, like finding who did this to him.”

  “Ja, well, one thing at a time. Plus, I’m sure the police have been notified about the beating. They will look for whoever is responsible. There is no need for us to go anywhere until Jesse’s condition is stable.” There was a lovely lilt to his voice. He had a faint accent that she hadn’t noticed before. “If Jesse were awake, he would be praying. That I am sure of. But you would know that, of course, since you’re his daughter, ja?”

  Darcy swallowed hard. She put her elbows on the table and surrounded the warm cup of coffee with her hands. “I only met Je
sse a few weeks ago. And we mostly talked about me.” She regretted that now.

  “But you are his daughter?” He stared out at her from under a wisp of dark curls. He tilted his head, focusing hard on her face. “Truly Jesse Troyer’s daughter?”

  Strange emotions flowed through her. “I’m afraid so. And I understand your surprise.”

  He grinned, revealing a beautiful set of white teeth. “Ja, it is a surprise. But truly, if I hadn’t known Jesse for the past twenty years, I would not question ye so many times. You have his eyes, for certain.”

  In spite of herself, Darcy smiled a little, remembering meeting Jesse for the first time and feeling that shock of recognition when faced with those unusual dark gray eyes she’d seen in the mirror every day of her life.

  “But it is just that, well...he never mentioned you,” Thomas said.

  “No one ever mentioned him to me, either.” Darcy rubbed her temples, thinking back to when she’d first met Jesse at the coffeehouse just a few weeks ago. “I grew up with my grandparents—my mother’s parents—in northern Virginia. I was told my parents had both died in a car accident right after I was born. There were newspaper articles and everything, showing the crash. Turns out half of it was a lie. The crash did kill my mother...but my father was alive all along.

  “I mean, I don’t have any legal documents to show you as proof of paternity. Jesse talked about getting them if I wanted him to. But at this point I wasn’t really sure where this whole thing was going. And anyway, he had proof enough for me—pictures of me as a baby. And pictures of my mother. Pictures of the three of us together. And he had this locket. My mother’s locket. She always wore it. It’s around her neck in almost every picture I’ve ever seen of her.”

  Darcy lifted the beautiful silver necklace off her collarbone to show him. Thomas looked at the locket then turned away. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Whether he believed her or not. His stoic face hid his emotions. Calm strength was all he allowed her to see. But she didn’t really care what he thought of the situation. Thomas was just a neighbor. She was Jesse’s daughter, his own flesh and blood.

  After a long moment of silence, Thomas looked back at her with faraway eyes that were hazy with sadness. “Jesse did talk about your mother. He spoke of her often to me.”

  “Yes, my grandparents talked about her all the time. She was amazing,” Darcy said, thinking of all the comparisons they’d made when raising her. Comparisons she’d never lived up to.

  Thomas sighed. “So how did you find out? How did you and Jesse meet?”

  “Jesse wrote to me.” She smiled. “An old-fashioned letter. He told me who he was and he sent some pictures. One of them was a picture I had seen before in my mother’s things.”

  “That must have been strange.”

  “Yes, at first. But then I became curious. I asked my grandparents about it. About him.” A sharp pain stabbed at her heart. “But they wouldn’t tell me anything, except that my mother was dead and that it was his fault. They told me if I wanted to go down that road of getting to know my father, that I would have to do it alone.”

  “I am truly sorry.” Thomas’s eyebrows pressed together, his brown eyes examining her carefully. “Family... Well, we should always be able to count on family.”

  “It’s okay. My grandparents have always been a little...different.” Cold. “But actually what they said only confirmed to me that Jesse was telling the truth. So I met with him. And when I saw him, I knew. Jesse is definitely my father. I just wish...” I’d known about him...

  Tears started to well in her eyes. Thomas reached across the table and patted her hand.

  “Hey, now, I am certain that he had a reason for not getting in touch with you sooner. And if I know Jesse, and I think I do, then he had a very, very gut reason.” He gave her hand a quick squeeze, then slid his hand back to his side of the table. “Jesse—your father—is a gut man. A man of God. And he is strong. I am praying that God will let him stay with us a bit longer. We cannot change the past, but you can still have a future together as father and daughter.”

  The tears started to spill over. Darcy tried to hold them back. She didn’t want to cry in front of this stranger. She covered her face with her hands.

  Thomas stood. “We should go back now. The police will probably be here soon.”

  Darcy felt the blood drain from her face. She did not want to talk to the police. She couldn’t imagine that she knew anything which would be helpful. And what if no one believed that she was Jesse’s daughter? “Oh...but I don’t know what to say to them...like I told you I don’t have any real proof that he’s my father.”

  “It is going to be okay, Darcy. Just tell them what you told me.”

  “Do they know about the phone call?”

  “I haven’t spoken with them yet. But I hope you plan to tell them. It may help them find out who did this. Isn’t that what you want?”

  “Of course it’s what I want. But how can I explain what the man said to me? Not to mention, no one really knows I’m Jesse’s daughter. What if Jesse doesn’t want anyone to know?”

  “I don’t think you can keep being Jesse’s daughter a secret any longer.” He smiled. “You have nothing to fear from Jesse’s friends. I know that much. Which makes me wonder why—”

  “Why he kept it a secret?” she said, finishing the question for him. “I don’t know. It’s not a topic you just jump right into the first time you meet your father.”

  And now he might die and she would never know.

  Darcy closed her eyes. Thomas was right. There was no escaping her identity any longer. She was the daughter of a man who had been attacked for hiding something. And the man who had committed—or commissioned—the attack was now after her, unless she turned over something she knew nothing about. It was all so cryptic and horrifying. She didn’t know what they wanted and if Jesse didn’t wake up and give it to them then...

  What did they have planned for her?

  THREE

  “Chief McClendon.” Thomas shook hands with the Lancaster head of police. They had met before during another stressful time in Thomas’s life, when his own niece had been murdered. And while most Amish didn’t have much to do with government or law enforcement agencies of any sort, Thomas had a healthy respect for the chief. McClendon had always kept his family’s confidences and respected their boundaries. Right now, Thomas had a sense that the chief would be helping him again through whatever was going on with Jesse and Jesse’s long-lost daughter.

  “This is Darcy Simmons.” Thomas moved his eyes quickly between her and McClendon. “And she is...well, she is Jesse Troyer’s daughter.”

  “Oh.” McClendon turned to Darcy, taking in her fancy clothes. “I guess you left the fold.”

  Darcy looked taken aback.

  “She was not born or raised Amish,” Thomas answered for her. “Jesse came to the Ordnung later in life.”

  “Oh, I see.” McClendon frowned. “So I understand Mr. Troyer was badly beaten?”

  “We hope he will pull through, but it’s too early to know his status for certain,” Thomas replied quickly, wanting to keep Darcy focused on the positive.

  She looked well past the point of exhaustion. Her hands shook. Her eyes were swollen. She seemed so horribly...alone.

  “I’ll need to ask you a few questions about your...well, about Jesse,” McClendon said to Darcy. “And about what happened earlier today.”

  She nodded.

  “You add in anything in that might be helpful,” McClendon said to Thomas. “I understand you were both there?”

  “I arrived first,” Darcy said, explaining how she and Jesse had planned for her to come at noon. “When I got there no one answered at the door, and I noticed it was cracked open. Then Thomas came. We went in together and found that someone had to
rn the place apart. Then we discovered Jesse upstairs on the floor. Thomas called 911. And then—then I got this strange phone call.”

  Thomas exhaled a sigh of relief, pleased that she’d overcome her hesitation and decided to share the truth with the police chief.

  “How do you mean, strange?” McClendon asked.

  Darcy quoted the caller verbatim. McClendon scratched his head. “And you have no idea who would have sent you a threatening message?”

  “No.” She shook her head.

  “You didn’t recognize the voice?”

  “It was modified. Computerized. It didn’t sound natural.”

  “Did either of you see anyone coming or going from the area around the house?”

  They both shook their heads.

  “Did you see anything unusual or missing?”

  “It was impossible to tell. The place was wrecked.”

  “Right. We sent a team over to Mr. Troyer’s place to investigate. But they won’t know what or if anything is missing. Then again, based on this phone call you’re telling me about, it seems likely that the caller didn’t find what he wanted at Jesse’s home.”

  Thomas nodded. That made sense. Whatever the man from the phone call was after, he’d probably tried to get Jesse to reveal where it was first. When that hadn’t worked, he’d tried searching the house for it himself. When that failed, he’d threatened Darcy. But how had he known about Darcy? That was still a puzzle.

  “So, you’re from Philadelphia?” McClendon asked her.

  “Originally, I’m from Virginia. But I’ve lived in the Philadelphia area since college. I work as a buyer for Winnefords department store.”

  “You live alone?”

  She nodded. “I have a small town house in the suburbs.”

  “You work in the city?”

  “Mostly. I travel to New York a lot.”

  McClendon flipped through his notes. “Now, what was your relationship with your father?”