The Agent's Secret Past

by Debby Giusti

  They passed the farmhouse with the buggies in the front yard and continued on, studying the homes that dotted the sides of the road. The farms were not large by English standards, but each provided ample acreage for the crops and livestock needed to feed a family and cover the cost of necessities as well as the mortgage and taxes for the land.

  “I don’t want to give you the wrong opinion, Colby. The Amish way is not easy, but it has its own rewards.”

  “I can see that. In fact, while Dawson was grilling, he talked about the satisfaction of working the land and providing for his family. There’s something to say about the simple lifestyle. In fact, the Amish way reminds me of the military with its adherence to rules and high moral code. Too few people hold on to virtue these days. That’s something to say for both the military and the Amish.”

  Regrettably, Jacob Yoder and her father were exceptions to the rule.

  Running out of farmland as they approached an intersection, Becca said, “Turn left onto that dirt road. It looks like there’s a farm tucked behind that thicket of trees.”

  Just as she suspected, the thick crop of hardwoods eventually opened into a clearing. A farmhouse, not as large or as well cared for as some of the others, sat in the open space, surrounded by pastures and a small creek. A few head of cattle grazed in a nearby meadow oblivious to the newcomers who pulled into the drive to turn around.

  The absence of power and telephone lines confirmed Becca’s hunch of this being an Amish home. The house’s need for paint brought back other memories from her past.

  A barn sat at the side of the property. The door hung on one hinge and flapped in the wind. Dogs barked in the distance.

  Becca shivered as she studied the landscape.

  “Cold?” Colby asked.

  “I’m fine.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. “You look pale. Is something wrong?”

  She shook her head and wrapped her arms around her waist. Another gust of wind forced the barn door to fly back with a bang.

  Colby glanced at the darkening sky. “Those clouds look threatening. The farmer’s probably at the barn raising. I’d better secure the barn door before the downpour hits.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  Becca stepped from the car and inhaled the damp air that signaled the approaching rain. She studied the landscape. Nothing moved, other than the wind through the trees. Even the dogs were silent.

  Placing her purse strap around her neck, she felt the weight of her weapon holstered inside. No matter how peaceful the setting, Jacob Yoder could be nearby.

  Flicking her gaze over the house and surrounding area, she walked with Colby toward the barn, taking care to silence her footfalls in the winter grass.

  As she neared the corner of the house, the dogs started to bark again. She turned to see the chain-link pen that kept them bound, and let out a deep sigh of relief. The dogs—both Doberman pinschers—had jaws large enough to take off her hand. She shivered, then hurried to join Colby.

  Glancing into the barn’s dim interior, she saw something that shouldn’t have been on an Amish farm.

  A late-model Crown Victoria, metallic blue in color.

  She stooped to examine the tires, thick with red clay. The car had been stuck in the mud recently.

  Pulling her phone from her purse, she snapped photos of the tires and the tread marks on the barn’s dirt floor. She also photographed the front grill and trunk that lacked plates.

  Pointing to the house, she said, “Let’s see if anyone’s home. I want to find out more about the car.” Specifically, she wanted to know who owned the Crown Vic and whether it had been driven to Alabama the day before. The lack of plates brought other questions to mind.

  Colby closed and latched the barn and followed Becca to the house. She knocked repeatedly. When no one answered, they returned to the car and drove back the way they came.

  Approaching the farmhouse with the newly built barn, Colby pulled to the side of the road.

  As if oblivious to the darkening sky, children frolicked on the lawn while the adults chatted nearby. Just as at Dawson’s house, the men and women stood in separate groups. A few folks glanced their way and then returned to their conversations.

  A man helped a woman into their buggy. After taking his seat, he slapped the reins and the horses stared down the drive. Becca and Colby stepped from the car and held up their identification.

  The man hesitated as if weighing whether to stop.

  Becca raised her voice. “I’m with the Criminal Investigation Division at Fort Rickman.” She pointed to Colby and introduced him before she continued. “You folks know a man named Jacob Yoder? He’s six-two, black hair, brown eyes with a small scar on his left cheek.”

  The Amish man shook his head.

  “He’s in his mid-thirties,” she pressed. “Formerly, he lived in Harmony, Alabama.”

  “I cannot help you.”

  She thought of Elizabeth. “He could have scratches to his face and hands.”

  “I have not seen such a man.”

  “Do you know who lives in the last farm on the left? Two Dobermans are caged behind the house? A blue Crown Vic is parked in the barn?”

  The bearded man shook his head again. “This does not sound like an Amish family.” Raising the reins, he clucked his tongue to signal the horses. The buggy creaked forward.

  Becca watched it jostle along the road, regretting the Amish need to remain separate from the world and less than forthright with the English. Privacy was part of the Amish way, a way that would hinder their investigation.

  She turned her gaze back to the hillside. An older woman, her gray hair caught up in a kapp bonnet, left the house. She stopped and stared at Becca for a long moment before she joined the other women.

  Fat drops of rain began to fall. The people scurried for shelter. Some folks ran for the barn while others grabbed their children and hoisted them into their rigs before climbing in themselves.

  Becca and Colby returned to his car and wiped the rain from their faces before he pulled back onto the road. Becca glanced over her shoulder and watched the buggies head in the opposite direction. If only someone had information about a man from her past who wanted to do her harm.

  Was Jacob hiding out among the Amish?

  NINE

  Becca was besieged with dreams of Amish buggies and shots being fired at her in the darkness. A strange, wizened woman, wearing a white kapp, sat behind the wheel of a Ford Crown Victoria and accelerated straight toward her.

  She woke Monday morning in a cold sweat and glanced at her weapon on the nightstand.

  Pulling herself upright, Becca dangled her feet over the side of the mattress and listened expectantly.

  A rap-tap-tap sounded in the stillness.

  She grabbed her Glock and tiptoed to the door.

  “Becca, it’s Colby.” His voice was a whisper, but easy enough to recognize.

  “What do you want?”

  “To talk.”

  “Now?” She glanced at the bedside clock. Five in the morning was too early to play nice.

  “Yes, now.”

  She moved aside the straight-back chair she’d shimmied under the door knob as an extra barrier and turned the dead bolt. Inching the door open, she kept the chain guard in place and peered with one eye through the small slit. “What’s going on?”

  He held up his hands. “Trust me, Becca. I’ve got a good reason for being here.”

  “Then start talking.”

  “I searched the archived newspaper reports of your father’s and sister’s deaths and found information about Jacob Yoder. He grew up in Pinecraft, Florida, an area in Sarasota. His brother did, as well.”

  “What’s that got to do with me?”

  �
��I’m driving there today. Wilson gave me the go-ahead. I told him you’d probably want to go, as well.”

  “How long will it take?”

  “Five hours to get there. We’ll spend the night and head back tomorrow.”

  She stared at Colby for a long moment, weighing her options. Stay on post or find out information about the Yoder brothers?

  “Give me ten minutes. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

  She closed the door and stood for a moment, waiting to hear Colby’s footfalls as he headed downstairs.

  Spending two days with the special agent might put her in an awkward position. She and Colby both needed to understand the rules. They were investigating two murders that could tie in with four additional deaths.

  Becca was interested. Who in law enforcement wouldn’t be? But spending all that time with Colby could be a problem, if he didn’t see her as a special agent doing her job and nothing more.

  Then she realized the problem wasn’t with Colby. It was with her.

  * * *

  Colby checked his watch when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs in the Lodge. Becca appeared wearing a flowing skirt and matching sweater set and lightweight jacket. She’d pulled her hair back from her face and carried a small overnight bag along with her purse.

  “You dressed and packed in nine minutes? I’m impressed.” He smiled.

  “I’ve done it in less time.”

  The woman never cut herself any slack.

  He reached for her overnight bag and was surprised when she let him carry it for her. Another step in the right direction.

  “My car’s out front.” He motioned her toward the door, which he opened.

  The chilly morning greeted them. Becca slipped into the passenger seat while he placed her bag in the trunk. Rounding the car, he climbed behind the wheel, noting the flowery scent that hung in the air. The Amish-girl-turned-cop wore nice perfume. That tiny glimpse into the real Becca behind the reticent facade made him smile.

  He handed her a map. “We’ll pick up Interstate 75 and drive south to Sarasota. At that point, I may need help with directions.”

  “What about GPS?”

  He patted his console. “Tucked away in case I ever need it. Call me old-fashioned, but I still prefer maps.”

  “Thank you, Uncle Sam.”

  “Pardon?” He raised his brow unsure of what she meant.

  “We work with maps in the army. No wonder you’re more comfortable using them.”

  “Right.” He pulled out of the parking lot and increased his speed when they left post. Once they were on the interstate, he mentioned Pinecraft.

  “Did you hear about the area growing up?” he asked.

  She laughed ruefully. “Never. We were just trying to survive. Vacations weren’t even considered.” She paused for a moment and looked out the window. “I often wondered what the ocean looked like. A farm girl from Alabama, especially coming for such a limited environment...”

  She shrugged. “I never thought I’d get beyond Harmony. The army expanded my horizons. I did a lot of traveling when I was stationed in Europe. My first trip was to the Mediterranean for a week-long tour run by Morale Support.”

  “You traveled alone?”

  “With someone else in law enforcement.”

  Colby shifted in his seat, wondering about her European traveling companion. “Some guy you dated?” The question slipped out unexpectedly.

  “A woman who worked with the military police. She was a quiet type, and we got along.”

  Although relieved that she hadn’t traveled with a boyfriend, Colby could imagine the number of guys who tried to catch Becca’s eye. Who wouldn’t? She was pretty in an unassuming way.

  “The ocean was always my favorite destination,” she continued, seemingly oblivious to his musings about her possible boyfriends. “I loved seeing everything. Rome, Venice, the Black Forest in Germany. Each was unique and special in its own way.”

  “Nice you took the opportunity to travel.”

  “You didn’t?”

  “I’ve been in Afghanistan on four deployments. Never got to Europe.”

  “But you’ve traveled in the U.S.”

  He nodded. “And spent lots of time at the beach. My sisters love the water.”

  She smiled. “No one’s married yet?”

  “My sisters are too independent.”

  “Sounds as if you don’t approve.”

  “Hardly. The problem comes when they try to tell me what to do.”

  Becca’s laughter filled the car with a lightness he hadn’t felt in a long time.

  “I’m the second from the eldest. My older sister is the only one who pushes the issue.” He smiled, thinking of Gloria. “She wants me to settle down.”

  “Yet she’s still single.”

  “There was a guy. She was head over heels in love with him. We all thought the feeling was mutual. They planned the wedding. The invitations were sent. The gifts had started to arrive. He texted her two days before the ceremony saying he’d found someone else.”

  Becca turned to look at Colby. “He sounds like a louse.”

  “I thought as much, but what could I tell her?”

  “Now she’s protecting her heart,” Becca said.

  “Exactly. There’s a nice guy who keeps hanging around, but I don’t think he’ll wait much longer.”

  “You’ve talked to her?”

  “As much as I can. After a point, she closed the door. Better to pull back a bit on the brotherly advice so the door remains open. I’ve learned to pick my battles.”

  “She’s lucky to have you.” There was sincerity in Becca’s voice.

  “The feeling’s mutual, but I worry about her. I don’t want her to throw away something good because of fear.”

  Becca nodded. “Fear can hold anyone back.”

  He glanced at her, thinking of the fear he’d seen in her eyes the night of the fire. She’d mentioned Jacob. At least now, he knew she had suspected Jacob Yoder right from the start.

  Glancing down, Becca picked at the sleeve of her jacket. “My sister and I were close. Katie was two years younger and everything I wasn’t. She had a gentle spirit that made her seem vulnerable. That worried me. I wanted her to be a little tougher and stand up for herself.”

  “You can’t blame yourself.”

  “I blame myself for leaving. It was easier to escape than to change the way things were.”

  She tugged at her hair. “My father forced Katie to take my place working at the Yoder home after I left. Jacob paid well. Too well. My father didn’t understand his dark motives.”

  Glancing out the window, she sighed. “Maybe he didn’t want to see. I had trouble getting away from Jacob. My sister wasn’t as strong as I was, so I can only imagine what happened.”

  “Not all men are self-serving, Becca.”

  “I know that.”

  Did she? Or was she too hung up on the past?

  She eased her head back on the seat and stared out the window as if to close the door on their conversation. Colby tapped on the cruise control. Traffic was steady with a long string of trucks heading south. He needed to focus on the road and not the attractive woman sitting next to him.

  They would have time later to talk about her past and Jacob Yoder and whether Becca was still hanging on to the hurt. Right now, he’d give her space to be in her own world. Hopefully, once they arrived in Pinecraft, they’d find information about Jacob and his brother. If Ezekiel was still alive, they’d be back at the beginning of the investigation with no leads to follow.

  Jacob Yoder was a long shot, but his was the only name they had to go on.

  Besides, Becca seemed sure he was still alive. And after everything that had happened, Colby
had to agree.

  TEN

  Colby didn’t mind the drive, and the hours flew by along with the miles. Becca remained quiet for most of the trip, but the silence was comfortable as if borne from familiarity. At one point, her head drooped against her shoulder, and he realized she was asleep.

  The frown lines he saw too often were replaced with a peaceful beauty he found endearing. Becca didn’t flaunt flashy good looks, but she had a sweet aura that called to him.

  Of course, he had also seen the anxiety and concern written too clearly on her face when she talked about a killer on the loose. Maybe Colby was drawn to the vulnerability she would never admit to having.

  His sisters claimed he was overprotective. They laughed when he became too concerned about their well-being or questioned them too extensively about who they were dating and where they were going. He’d learned from his father, and now that Colby was older, he shared the male guardian role along with his dad.

  Thinking back to Afghanistan and Ellen, he shook his head ever so slightly. Her self-sufficiency had butted heads with his need to keep her safe. She’d been adamant about not wanting his help. In hindsight, he realized his pride had gotten in the way and caused him to walk away from her when she’d needed him most.

  He sighed as if trying to release the painful memory.

  “Is there a problem?” Becca asked, her voice thick with sleep.

  He turned and smiled at the look of concern she wore so openly. “I woke you. Sorry.”

  “I must have drifted off.”

  She glanced at the surrounding traffic, and the city that sprawled out in every direction from the freeway. “If this is Sarasota, I did more than doze.”

  “You fell asleep after we got gas in Wildwood.”

  “I should have been checking the map.”

  “It’s been an easy drive,” he assured her. “Our exit is just ahead.”

  The winter sun shone through the windows and warmed the car. Becca slipped out of her coat.

  “Ready for air-conditioning?” Colby asked with a smile.

  “Actually, I’m fine, although fresh air might be nice.” She cracked the window on her side and inhaled deeply. “Do I smell salt water or am I imagining we’re not far from the Gulf?”