Simple Choices

by Nancy Mehl

  “Well, the town is certainly thrilled. How do the more conservative Mennonite residents respond to you?”

  John sat down again and began to clean Papa’s palm with disinfectant and a large cotton ball. “Great. They have no problem with me at all. I think a long time ago some Old Order Mennonites may have gotten their medical services through their local area oversight committee. But as far as I know, that doesn’t really happen anymore.”

  “So everything’s smooth sailing?”

  He turned around and grinned at me. “I didn’t say that. I’m still not used to having my bill paid in food.”

  I laughed. “What kind of food?”

  He turned his attention back to Papa who smiled up at me. “Anything you can think of. Baked goods, meat, corn … Last week, one woman tried to give me a beautiful quilt her mother made. I turned her down. I couldn’t take something that meant so much to her.”

  “Gracie,” Papa said, frowning, “have you found your grandmother’s wedding present yet? She’ll be very upset if I don’t make sure you get it.”

  I shot John a quick look. “No, Papa. I haven’t found it. But let’s not worry about it right now, okay? We need to get your hand taken care of. Then we’ll find Mama’s gift. Okay?”

  Papa nodded slowly. “Okay, Gracie. But I can’t have Essie upset with me.”

  I patted his shoulder. “I know. I know. We’ll look for it when we get home.”

  “Okay. Well, am I gonna keep my hand, Doc?”

  “I think you will, Mr. Temple.” John finished wrapping gauze around Papa’s hand and secured it with tape. “Gracie, I’m sending some bandages home with you. Just keep the cut covered and clean. Change the bandages once a day. In a few days it should be fine.”

  “We will,” I said. “Are you ready, Papa?”

  “Yes, I believe I am.” He frowned and rubbed his stomach. “Are we late for dinner? I’m getting hungry.”

  I smiled at him. “We had to leave lunch because you cut your hand. Let’s get back to the restaurant, okay?”

  “Why yes. That sounds good.” He held out his other hand to John. “Thank you very much, Doctor. What do I owe you?”

  John shook Papa’s hand. “Nothing, Mr. Temple. All I did was clean out your cut and put a bandage on it. I have no intention of charging you for something so trivial.”

  Papa studied John for a moment. “Well, it isn’t trivial to me, son. And I think you can call me Joe now.”

  John smiled. “Thanks, Joe. I appreciate it.”

  Papa continued to stare at John for a while. His forehead was wrinkled in thought, and I was almost certain it was because of John’s resemblance to his father. I took his arm, attempting to get him out of the office before he made the connection. “Come on, Papa. Let’s let Doctor Keystone go back to work. We need to get to the restaurant before someone decides to toss out your peach cobbler.”

  Papa’s eyes widened. “Can’t let that happen. Let’s get moving, Gracie girl.”

  I laughed and waved good-bye to John. When we stepped out onto the sidewalk, the heat was invasive. As folks in Kansas say, “It’s not the heat, it’s the humidity.” Today it was both. I led Papa across the street and into Mary’s. My father got up when he saw us and then came over to take Papa’s arm and help him to the table.

  “I hope Jessie kept Papa’s cobbler warm,” I said. “He’s still hungry.”

  “It’s waiting for him in the kitchen,” Dad said. “Along with yours.”

  Papa smiled at his son. “Good for you, Daniel. Waste not, want not.”

  Dad smiled. “I know, Papa. You taught us that very well.”

  I was just about to sit down when I heard someone call out my name. Pat had just walked in the front door, and he waved me over. I excused myself and hurried over to meet him.

  “It’s about time,” I said. “Where have you been?”

  “I’ve been a little busy. Didn’t you get my message?”

  “Yes, but I really need to talk to you. It’s important.”

  He glanced quickly around the room. “I need to speak to you, too. Can we go outside for a moment?”

  His grim expression caused a shiver to run down my spine. I gazed back at the table where Jessie had just put my cobbler on the table again. After catching my father’s eye, I held up my finger as a way to let him know I was going outside and would be back soon. “Okay, let’s go,” I said to Pat.

  I followed him out the door and down the steps. He finally stopped next to one of the wooden rails where residents who rode horses or drove buggies into town tied them up. He leaned against it and stared at me, his arms crossed. “Look, I know how you’re going to react to this, but I want you to try to keep your cool.”

  A prickling sensation spread across my scalp. “Is—is it Hannah?” I croaked out.

  “No, we still haven’t found Hannah, but the police have found the girl who went missing from Topeka. The one they believed was abducted by her boyfriend. She wasn’t with him at all. Thankfully, she’s fine. Just took off on her own for a while.”

  “That’s wonderful news.”

  “We also found the other girl. The one who got into that red truck.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe there wasn’t some kind of crazed serial killer running around Kansas after all. “Okay, and what’s her story?”

  “She was in the middle of a cornfield about ten miles from here.” He hesitated a moment, his eyes locked on mine. “She’s dead, Gracie. She was murdered.”

  Chapter Twelve

  I guessed I swayed a little because Pat reached out and grabbed me by the shoulders. “Come over here and sit down,” he ordered. I lowered myself to the edge of the wooden sidewalk behind us. Truth was, I did feel a little dizzy.

  “You say she was murdered? How—how do you know that? Could she have died accidentally?”

  He sat down next to me. “No, Gracie. She’d been strangled, and there was evidence she’d been bound for several days before she was killed.”

  “Do they have any idea who did it?”

  Pat took off his hat and ran his hand over his closely cropped hair. “There are some things about this killing that match several others across the country over the last several years. The FBI thinks it might be the same man. He’s never been in Kansas before, but he may be here now.”

  My eyes filled with tears that trickled down my face. My previous relief over the absence of a serial killer in the area evaporated. “But—but that means Hannah …”

  “That means absolutely nothing as far as Hannah is concerned,” he said gruffly. “I still think Hannah ran away. It’s just a coincidence that it occurred at the same time. Believe me, I’ve seen this happen before. There can be a couple of similar circumstances in cases that cause concern during a situation like this. But it doesn’t mean they’re connected.”

  I started to ask him how he could possibly know this seeing he was just a sheriff over a small county in Kansas, but then I remembered that he used to work in an area that probably gave him a lot of experience dealing with awful crimes. “But Pat, this is a serial killer!” I cried. “Hannah looks just like the girl in Topeka. How can you possibly tell yourself that these disappearances aren’t related? The truth is that Hannah may have been abducted by the same man!”

  He stared at the hat he held in his hands. “If the girl in Topeka was killed by this guy, and that hasn’t been confirmed yet, he doesn’t stick to blonds. Remember that the other two girls are okay. It’s just a coincidence they all had blond hair like Hannah. There’s no real link between the murdered girl and Hannah.”

  “But I have proof she was taken against her will.”

  He frowned at me. “And what would that be?” The impatience in his voice made it clear he was beginning to get frustrated.

  “I found her bracelet on the road out of town.”

  He shook his head and sighed. “And how does this tell me she was taken against her will?”

  I slowly explained
the entire thing—about how the bracelet couldn’t have slipped off her wrist. And how it had to be a message from Hannah that she was in trouble. Throughout my entire diatribe, his stoic expression didn’t change. Surely I was getting through to him, but I couldn’t tell. Finally I stopped talking and waited for his reaction.

  “Look, I’ve already turned over the information about Hannah to the Kansas Bureau of Investigation so they can determine whether or not Hannah’s case could be related to the others. Finding a bracelet that may or may not have been owned by Hannah isn’t going to change anything.”

  “But it’s proof …”

  “No, it isn’t proof,” Pat said, his tone sharp. “It’s just a bracelet. The KBI isn’t going to find this evidence compelling.”

  “Well, maybe they would if they ever hear about it.” I wiped my face with the back of my hand.

  Pat took out his handkerchief and started to hand it to me.

  “No thanks. I think I’m through. For now anyway.”

  He stuck the piece of cloth back into his pocket. “Look Gracie, I’m not going to lie to you. The KBI has no interest in Hannah’s disappearance. There are certain signs they look for. Hannah’s case doesn’t have any of them.”

  “Like what?” I demanded.

  He sighed. “I’m not going to tell you what they are. Why don’t you just let the people who are experienced in this sort of thing do their job? You need to concentrate on your wedding.”

  “I know about the red truck—and the weird bumper sticker.”

  His eyes widened. “And how did you hear about that?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  He glared at me like I’d just committed a felony. “Okay. Did anyone see Hannah picked up by someone in a red pickup with a ‘weird’ bumper sticker?”

  “Well no, but …”

  “But nothing,” he said. “There is no evidence whatsoever that ties Hannah to the guy they’re looking for.”

  I could feel my temper rise. “What kind of evidence, Pat? What do you need to believe she’s been kidnapped?”

  “Something a lot more solid than your feelings and a lost bracelet.”

  I shook my head. “It’s all I have.” I looked into his eyes. “How about going the extra mile because we’re family? Does that mean anything to you?”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “I don’t care. Nothing will make me give up on Hannah. Nothing.”

  Pat sighed. “Gracie, I’m not giving up on Hannah. That’s ridiculous. But my years of work in law enforcement tell me this girl ran away. I can’t just ignore that.”

  “I’m not asking you to,” I said emphatically. “All I want you to do is open up your mind to the possibility that something else could have happened to her. Share what you know with me. Let me in, Pat.”

  He scowled at me. “You’d make a great interrogator, you know that? I swear, if you breathe a word of this to anyone else …”

  I held up my hands in mock surrender. “I won’t. I promise.”

  Pat scanned the area around us, looking to see if anyone else was in earshot. When he seemed satisfied, he leaned in closer. “It would be nice to find the truck. No one is completely sure what the bumper sticker says, but there’s a bear on it.”

  “A bear? So the killer is a hunter?”

  “Or he loves the zoo,” Pat said sarcastically. “I have no idea why there’s a bear on his bumper sticker.”

  “Okay, but at least that helps. Is there anything else?”

  Pat blew his breath out slowly. “Well, there’s the way that he kills his victims, but you don’t need to hear about that.”

  I didn’t argue. He was right. I didn’t want those kinds of images in my head.

  Pat put his hat back on his head and stuck his finger in my face. “If you tell anyone else what I just told you, I’ll find something to charge you with and lock you up until the day of your wedding.” He shook his finger several times for emphasis. “And I mean that.”

  I pushed his hand down. “So is that it? A bear on a bumper sticker? You put me through all that for something so insignificant? How are we going to find Hannah with nothing more to go on than that?”

  Pat shrugged. “Believe it or not, I’ve had cases with even less. At least it’s a start.”

  “So the FBI is investigating every man with a red truck?”

  “No, of course not. But they are tracking the ones with violent criminal records who have attacked women.” He sighed and shook his head. “The problem is that his truck’s been mentioned in the media. Chances are he’ll dump it.”

  “That means authorities wouldn’t have anything to tie him to the murders.”

  “That’s not true. They have solid DNA evidence.”

  “Oh great,” I said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of my tone. “Don’t they actually have to find a suspect before they can test for DNA?”

  Pat rubbed his eyes, and I realized for the first time how tired he looked. “I know. It’s not much, but right now it’s all we’ve got.” He pointed at me again. “You stay out of this, understand? If you think you have any more evidence, you come to me and me only. All the KBI needs is some little red-haired girl sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  “Seems to me they need all the help they can get,” I retorted. “We have no idea how much time Hannah has left.”

  “I’ve told you from the beginning that Hannah isn’t part of this,” Pat said in a low voice.

  “But the bracelet. It just doesn’t make sense.”

  “Look, could you trust me just a little? Hannah ran away. She’ll find out she can’t make it on her own and come home. Just concentrate on your upcoming nuptials. Really.”

  “But what about this murder? Abel and Emily will panic when they find out about it.”

  “I’m going over to talk to the Muellers right now. I think they need to hear about it from me before anyone else. Please keep it to yourself for now.”

  I shook my head. “This will terrify them.”

  He grunted. “I’ll assure them that we still believe Hannah’s situation isn’t related.” He frowned. “Besides, I thought you Christian types weren’t supposed to be afraid of anything because you believe God takes care of you.”

  “That’s true. But sometimes it takes time on our knees and our willingness to fight the good fight of faith to get us through the stormy parts of life. Christians aren’t perfect, you know.”

  “Yeah, I know,” he said wryly. “You’re just forgiven. I’ve heard it all before.” He stood to his feet and helped me to mine. “You okay now?”

  “Yes. But why did you come to me about the murder before the Muellers?”

  “I tried to talk to them first, but they’re meeting with someone from Child Protective Services.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Mrs. Murphy? Is that who she is?”

  “You know her?”

  I explained my encounter with the woman outside the restaurant.

  Pat nodded. “Yep, that sounds like her. I’ve had run-ins with her before. She’s good at her job, but she certainly isn’t the easiest woman to deal with.”

  “But why would she be bothering Abel and Emily?”

  Pat put his hat back on his head and pulled the brim down to shield his eyes from the sun. “Someone phoned in a complaint. Said the Muellers’ lifestyle forced the girl to flee from her home.”

  “What?” I sputtered. “That’s ridiculous. The Muellers are wonderful parents.”

  “Well, someone in Harmony doesn’t seem to agree with you.” He held his hand up to stop any further protests. “Look Gracie, give Mrs. Murphy a chance. She’s actually pretty fair-minded.”

  “She could use some better people skills,” I muttered. I turned and stared over at the church. Abel and Emily’s car was still there along with another car that most probably belonged to the infamous Mrs. Murphy. “I’ll bet it was that nasty-minded Esther Crenshaw who called in. She’s got her nose in everyone’s business, and
she’s always ranting on and on about how wrong the Mennonites are about everything.”

  Pat grunted. “I thought Christians weren’t supposed to judge others.”

  I snorted. “Unfortunately, some of us don’t seem to have gotten the message.” I looked at him carefully. “That’s the second time you’ve made a snide remark about Christians. Christianity isn’t based on what Christians do, you know. Every time I hear that old excuse I recognize it for what it is. A cop-out. It’s not hard to figure out that we’re called to follow Christ, not each other.”

  Pat’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean it’s a cop-out? A lot of people out there aren’t interested in your religion because you people say one thing and do another.”

  “Hey, it’s not called Gracieanity, you know. Christ alone is our example. We’re trying to become as much like Him as we can, but it’s a process. None of us will reach perfection in this life.” I stuck my finger into his chest. “And you’re smart enough to know that. That’s why I said your excuse is a cop-out.” I grinned at him. “The good news is that Jesus will even take someone as ornery as you.”

  Pat tried to glare at me, but his mouth quivered and he ended up laughing. “You’re something else, Gracie Temple. If anyone could get me to darken the door of a church, it would be you.” His voice softened. “But don’t count on it, okay?”

  I shrugged. “I’ll keep praying for you anyway.”

  “You do that.”

  I gave him a quick smile before changing the subject. “Pat, I’d like to check on Abel and Emily after that woman is finished. I need to make sure they’re all right.”

  “Not until I’m done,” Pat said sternly. “You wait until I’m gone to pounce on them.”

  I started to protest his use of the word pounce when we both turned our heads at the sound of a car door slamming. The dark sedan parked next to Abel’s car took off slowly from the church. It pulled into the street and started coming our way. I saw Mrs. Murphy behind the wheel. She stared at me as she drove past.

  “That’s my cue,” Pat said. “You get back inside with your family. And remember what I said. Keep your mouth shut until after I leave the church.” He glared at me. “Do you understand me? Not a word.”