The Search

by Shelley Shepard Gray

  “Please, Daed?” she asked. “You need to tell me that I’ll be happy with Micah. That he’s the right choice for my future.”

  “I can’t do that. You will be the woman living by his side, Frannie.”

  “But it was like this with Mamm, right? Didn’t you have doubts about Mamm and you?”

  “You sound like you want that to be the case!”

  “Well, no. But maybe . . . yes.”

  “I was anxious to marry your mother. I wasn’t torn between two women.”

  His voice was so gruff and stiff, Frannie felt her cheeks flush. Put that way, her actions were shameful. She should know what was in her heart .

  As he watched her sort through her confusing thoughts, her father laughed. “Oh, Frannie. You’ll always make me smile, that is a fact.”

  “Daed—”

  “The fact is, you don’t need me to tell you a thing. You and God will make your choice soon enough.”

  “It doesn’t feel like it’s going to happen soon.” She knew she sounded petulant, but she couldn’t help herself. She was so tired of fumbling with her emotions. “I’m not very close to making up my mind, either.”

  “I disagree. I, for one, would guess that you’ve already made your choice.”

  “But . . . ”

  “I am not the detective or the sheriff, daughter. You don’t need to conceal the truth with me.”

  She hung her head. “See how confused I am? At least tell me what you’re thinking.”

  He stared at her hard. For a moment, she was afraid that she’d been too flighty, that he was simply going to get up and leave and wash his hands of her. But finally, he spoke. “Micah is Amish. Micah admires you. He is a good man and hard worker. He will be a good father. A good companion.”

  All of that was true. All of those reasons were accurate and correct. Her heart sank. Her father was leaning toward Micah, and she needed to wrap her mind around that and realize that he was exactly right. “So Micah is the one?”

  Holding up a hand warning her to be quiet, her father continued. “Though Micah has many mighty fine qualities . . . I do not feel that he is the man for you, Frannie. And once more, I believe you know that.”

  Her heart stopped for a second, then started beating again as pure adrenaline coursed through her. “Daed? Truly?”

  He nodded. “Take it from me, daughter. Mourning a spouse ain’t easy. But it would be far harder if I didn’t feel that my marriage to your mamm was one of the best things that had ever happened to me. I have mountains of memories to hold close and keep me warm on frosty nights.” He paused. “Frannie, you do not want to marry a man who doesn’t make you think that. And I don’t believe that Micah makes you feel that way. Perhaps Luke isn’t the man for you, right now, either. But one day he might be. Or, one day you will meet someone new who is your perfect fit.”

  While she sat, stunned by his sudden willingness to reminisce, he continued. “Don’t give in just because you are anxious to be in love. You have to let things happen in their own time.”

  “What should I do?”

  “I’ve said enough, child. Now it’s your turn to make decisions.” With a grunt, he got to his feet and stretched. “I think I’ll head on home now. You have your hands full here, and I have a need for some peace and quiet.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “You mean you want to sit somewhere without a girl asking you to figure out her love life?”

  “Oh, I didn’t say that now, did I?” Tenderly, he ran a hand down her jaw. “You are not doing as poorly as you seem to think, Frannie. Believe in yourself and God will take care of the rest.”

  As she watched her daed walk out to his buggy, she realized the challenge of the last few days had taken its toll. Even though it wasn’t much past eight o’clock, she walked up the stairs and knocked softly on Jack’s door.

  He opened immediately. “Anything wrong?”

  “Not at all. I just wanted to tell you that I am going to go to sleep now. But I know it’s early. There’s some turkey and ham in the icebox, and fruit and other things on the counter. Please feel free to eat whatever you’d like.”

  “I’ll do that. Thanks.”

  She smiled over her shoulder, then made her way to her room. She barely remembered closing and locking her door before lying down on the bed and shutting her eyes.

  Chapter 25

  “A good aim in life isn’t enough. You have to pull the trigger.”

  SHERIFF MOSE KRAMER

  The buzz in the police station was both grating and completely familiar.

  Luke walked through the maze of desks and cubicles slowly, stopping often to shake hands and catch up on news.

  “Hey, Detective Reynolds!” Teresa in records called out. “Long time, no see. How’s your bum leg?”

  “Better.”

  “Good to hear. It’s been quiet without you.”

  As he smiled his thanks, Scotty, one of the sergeants who’d been with the CPD forever, clapped him on the back.

  “So, you back for good now?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve got to go check in with the captain.” He glanced at Captain Sullivan’s closed door and wished he could delay the inevitable. Within the hour, Sullivan would be handing over his orders and Luke would be back in the thick of things.

  His trip to Crittenden County would turn into just a memory.

  Scotty turned his head to one side, looking him over like he was a suspicious dish at a potluck. “You seem different.”

  He felt different, too. “Must be because I’ve been used to just sitting around all day.”

  “In front of the soaps again, huh, Reynolds?” another coworker said with a smirk.

  Luke waved off the jab, as well as most of the trash talk that was happening around him as he continued his way to the captain’s office. It felt good to be back. The energy in the room invigorated him, made him feel more alive, like all of his senses were now on high alert.

  It struck him that while he was enjoying seeing all the guys, he really hadn’t missed the frenetic grind that was the heart and soul of a big city police force.

  When he got to his captain’s office, he knocked once and stuck his head in.

  Greg Sullivan saw him and grunted. Putting his hand over the phone’s receiver, he said, “Wait outside a couple. Would you, Luke? Something just came up.”

  “Sure, Cap.”

  Luke sat down in one of the crummy plastic chairs outside the office, the ones that he and the boys had always half taken bets on, wondering who was going to finally break one. They were that rickety.

  As one minute rolled into five and then ten, he let his mind drift to the last conversation with Mose.

  “I need to leave,” he’d said. “Now that we know the DEA is involved in the investigation, you don’t need me involved as well.”

  “I wouldn’t have called you if I didn’t need you, Luke. Besides, the Feds are here to follow the drug money, not to solve Perry’s murder.”

  “It seems to me they’re linked.”

  Mose narrowed his eyes. “Maybe. Maybe not. But we still don’t know who killed Perry.”

  Luke had felt that failing all the way to his toes. He’d been in Crittenden County for almost a month, and he should’ve been able to solve the murder by now. Lord knew, he’d handled far more crimes in Cincinnati at one time.

  Self-recrimination dug deep into his gut. He should have been smarter. He should have kept his mind on his job and what was right.

  He shouldn’t have been so full of himself when he’d arrived, thinking that he could solve everything because he had experience in the big city.

  On a personal note, he’d managed to ruin Frannie’s life, too. He’d become too attached. Made her believe that they could have a relationship . . . when all the time he’d been planning on being rig
ht back here. Shoot, even if she’d been willing to leave her faith, she’d never be happy in a place like Cincinnati. Or being married to a guy who was a cop, working long hours, being frustrated, on edge, and stressed out most of the time.

  But instead of being a man and putting his feelings aside, he’d given in to them and had hurt her in the process. All in all, his visit to Kentucky had been a huge mistake.

  “Luke? Come on in,” Captain Sullivan called out.

  Luke entered and stood in front of the man he’d worked for for the past five years.

  The captain looked him over with a slow smile, then waved him to a seat. “How ya doing?”

  Sullivan’s Irish accent was alive and well. He’d grown up in the East and hadn’t completely gotten rid of either the fast clipped way New Englanders spoke or his mother’s family’s Irish lilt. “I’m fine, sir.”

  “Seen the doc yet? Has she given you clearance?”

  “No. I thought I’d check in with you before I went downstairs.”

  “All right.”

  Luke braced himself, ready to be told to go down and get examined, then to hook up with his partner. But instead of giving those orders, his captain leaned back in his chair. “So, we had a real flurry of phone calls and emails regarding you last night.”

  “Sir?”

  “A DEA agent filled us in on your moonlighting job down in Kentucky.” Sullivan glanced at Luke over the wire rims of his glasses. “Real shame you didn’t feel the need to call in and tell us what you were doing.”

  “I was on leave . . .” He rubbed his leg. “Recovering.”

  “That’s what I thought you were doing. But it didn’t sound that way, Reynolds. The agent I spoke to said you’ve been busy.” Steepling his hands on his scratched, regulation metal desk, he said, “Care to tell me your version of it?”

  The request wasn’t a request at all. It was actually a direct order wrapped in congenial language. With that in mind, Luke attempted to arrange it concisely in his mind. “It all started when I got a call from Mose Kramer. He’s the sheriff down in Crittenden County. We went to the police academy together. He called me up and told me about a body they’d just discovered in an abandoned well.”

  “Tough, huh?”

  “Yes, sir.” Slowly, Luke outlined the case and the roadblocks Mose had been against. He told him about interviewing kids, Perry’s parents, and all those he spoke to but never came out with the complete story. Finally, he mentioned Frannie and her inn, the sunglasses, the DEA agent, Chris, and the drug connection his unit was following.

  “So has this Kramer made an arrest?”

  “No, sir.”

  The Captain frowned. “You still don’t know who killed that boy, do you?”

  “Most likely it had something to do with the drugs.”

  “But that hasn’t been proven.”

  “No, sir,” he bit out, feeling like an even worse failure.

  Captain Sullivan stared hard at him, then at the papers in front of him. Sighed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you need to go on back down there.”

  “Sir?”

  “The agent I spoke to said real good things about you. But he also talked about the community. Amish, right?” When Luke nodded, he continued. “The agent said you’ve done real well integrating yourself into the community. You’ve built trust.”

  “That’s Mose’s doing, not mine.”

  “Maybe. Or maybe it’s your doing, too, Luke.” He drummed his fingers. “This is no surprise, but the reason you’re a darn good detective is that you don’t give up. You inhale information like it’s a cigarette and you’re a nicotine addict.”

  Luke grinned. His captain certainly had a unique way of describing things.

  The captain grinned, too. “I know, poor analogy. But you know what I mean. You’ve got a gift for finding the truth, Reynolds,” he said, his accent turning thicker. “And for whatever reason, you were finding out more than your buddy. You need to stay there and see this through. Both for them and for you.”

  “Me? But I’m fine. I don’t need—”

  “You don’t want you to start giving up on things because they are too hard, Luke.”

  Luke tensed. “I’ve never given up on a case because it was difficult.”

  “Okay. Let’s be honest then. I also happened to talk to Sheriff Kramer. He seemed to think you got involved with an Amish woman and you’re scared and running.”

  He was going to kill Mose. Slowly. Feeling his neck turning red, Luke scrambled to regain his pride. “Sir—”

  “And now you’re back here. Hoping to put it all behind you. But you can’t do that. You can’t go searching for clues or love or the truth and not see it to the end.” He smiled softly. “That’s the thing about searching, Luke. Sometimes you don’t like what you find. But you still have to deal with it.”

  Everything his captain said made sense. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

  The captain stood up and grinned broadly. “I know. You’re in love. You’re in love and you’re running scared.”

  “I hope not.”

  “Look, you may be healed, but you still have some medical leave days available. You’re still limping, too, so I don’t think you’re completely ready to give us a hundred percent.”

  Sullivan slapped his desktop lightly, the sound reverberating around the room. “Go on back to Crittenden County and go find what you’ve been searching for. When you find it, give me a call. We’ll still be here.” He frowned. “And I promise you this, we’ll still have cases on file. Murder and mayhem don’t stop, Luke. Not even for you.”

  Luke shook his hand before turning on his heel and walking out. The moment he opened the door, the constant drumming of voices slammed him hard.

  This was what he’d been used to. This constant noise and pressure and energy had been his life. He’d thought it was going to be what he always loved, and what he was always going to need. But then an old friend and the haunting beauty of western Kentucky had made him realize that everything he’d always known wasn’t everything that his future could be.

  That new awareness had been a surprise and humbling, too. It wasn’t easy for a city detective to realize he’d been naïve.

  Now, as Luke heard the voices and watched the constant macho interplay, the ribald joking back and forth that came from living on the edge for twelve hours at time, he realized that it wasn’t for him.

  Not any longer.

  There were two ways to leave the floor. Out through the main doors or down the back stairs. He’d always chosen the first. He’d enjoyed the camaraderie and conversations. Loved getting in everyone else’s business as he passed them.

  But instead of going that route, he turned around, opened the worn, slightly warped door that led to the back stairwell, and slid into the dimly lit passage. It seemed there was always at least one halogen bulb burnt out. The thick walls insulated him, the silence they brought felt right.

  Thinking about how he’d changed while everything else had stayed the same . . . he slowly took the stairs down to the parking garage.

  Less than five minutes later, he was pulling onto the highway, heading south on 71 toward Kentucky, then crossing the bridge over the Ohio River, and realizing . . . his captain had only ordered that he go find what he’d been searching for . . .

  Not that he solve the case and apprehend the murderer.

  Until this very moment, he’d been sure that they were one and the same thing.

  Chapter 26

  “I wish I had tried harder to understand my son. But that don’t count for much now, does it?”

  ABRAHAM BORNTRAGER

  The Schrock Variety Store loomed in front of her like an imposing city skyscraper made of glass. Staring at it made Deborah sweat. She truly wished she was anywhere else in the
world.

  Though she’d been happy to accept Abby Anderson’s invitation to run errands together, Deborah had never imagined that Schrock’s Variety Store was Abby’s destination.

  Through the partly open doorway, she heard a few voices chattering. Children’s laughter. She spied the store’s vast array of merchandise. Until recently, just seeing all the bright items made her feel like an excited child in a candy store.

  Now it only made her uncomfortable. Somewhere inside was Jacob Schrock. “Abby, I’ll wait here while you go inside,” she said. “Take your time.”

  Abby rolled her eyes. “I was afraid you were going to do this.”

  “I’m not doing anything.”

  “Oh yes, you are. We both know that.” Grabbing her hand, Abby tugged. “Come on, Deborah. There is no way you are going to stand out here on the porch.”

  But just like an ornery mule, Deborah didn’t want to be budged. “Abby, don’t push so. I’m perfectly fine sitting on one of these rocking chairs.”

  “Like the old people do on Saturday afternoons?” Abby shook her head. “No way are you doing that.” Lowering her voice, she said, “You’ve got to face him sometime, Deborah. It’s not like you can avoid people you don’t want to see. It’s impossible to do that in Crittenden.”

  Abby had a point. But still, there was no need to be in a hurry to be scowled at. “I’ll see him soon. Maybe at church we’ll talk.”

  “If you’re going to see each other during church services, you might as well talk to each other now.” Obviously trying to hold on to her patience, Abby tugged again. “Come on, Deborah. You know as well as I do that you’ll feel better after you see Jacob again. It’s always the waiting and wondering that’s the hardest.”

  “When did you get so full of wisdom?”

  “Since I’ve been hanging around my Amish grandmother,” she said with a smile. “And since I learned to . . . you know . . . like myself.”

  Abby’s words were heartfelt and simply said. Since Deborah knew how hard it must have been for her to admit such a thing, she let herself be pulled into Schrock’s.