The Agent's Secret Past

by Debby Giusti

  He turned and looked back.

  She couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but she saw a flash from his weapon.

  A lightning bolt of fire grazed her left arm.

  Gasping at the pain, she nearly stumbled.

  The guy was tall with broad shoulders.

  Jacob?

  He ran toward the woods.

  She stopped, raised her weapon and fired. One shot. Then another.

  He slipped between the trees.

  Footsteps sounded behind her.

  She glanced over her shoulder.

  Colby.

  “He went into the woods,” she called to him. “Circle to the right. We’ll block his exit.”

  Becca ran until she came to a roadway. In the distance, a car turned onto the main highway.

  She plugged 911 into her phone and notified the operator to contact the local police to be on the lookout for a car headed south.

  “A dark sedan. No, I can’t identify the make or model.” She gasped, needing to catch her breath. “I’m at the Florida Rest Motel. The attacker fired repeatedly into my motel room.”

  Colby approached her. “Did we lose him?”

  “He drove off.” She pointed to the road then gave her name and room number to the operator.

  “What happened?” Colby asked when she disconnected.

  She filled him in with halting breaths.

  Colby reached tenderly for her arm. “You’re hit.”

  “It’s not bad. A graze. That’s all.”

  “You could have been killed.”

  Becca paused, realizing what he had said was true. “But I’m okay.” She needed to reassure him as well as herself. “I heard sounds outside my room and grabbed my weapon. Before I could open my door, the window shattered.”

  He stepped closer and touched her cheek. “Your face is bleeding.”

  “From a sliver of wood.”

  Sirens sounded in the distance.

  Colby’s voice caught. “I wanted to keep you safe, but I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

  She could have used his help, and maybe together, they would have captured Jacob. But what she needed to hear more than anything was the tenderness in Colby’s voice. She’d been hiding from Jacob for too long and not allowing anyone to get close. All that had changed when she transferred to Fort Rickman and met Colby.

  He’d been the first man to break through her defenses. Being with him made her realize there was more to life than living in constant fear.

  She couldn’t tell him the truth. Instead, she tried to shove her armor back in place, only the adrenaline rush ended just that quickly, sapping her energy and leaving her shaking and gasping for air.

  A lump filled her throat. Colby was right. She could have been killed.

  He opened his arms, and she collapsed into his embrace. Tears burned her eyes.

  “Shhh,” he soothed.

  Wrapped in the cocoon of his protectiveness, she let Colby lead her through the darkness. She inhaled the manly smell of him and heard his heart beating in his chest. His strength buoyed her weakness, and more than anything, she wanted to hold on to him and never let him go.

  He kissed her forehead and sent a volley of emotion rambling through her. As much as she tried to ignore the longing, she wanted him to kiss her lips and pull her even more tightly into his embrace.

  The bright strobe lights of the law enforcement vehicle captured both of them as they stepped into the glare of light.

  Becca straightened and swiped her hand across her cheeks. As much as she wanted to stay wrapped in Colby’s embrace she needed to be realistic. This was her fight and her family that needed to be avenged.

  She couldn’t rely on Colby to always help her. If Jacob came after her again, she’d do what she should have done years ago, and that was to confront Jacob face-to-face.

  * * *

  Colby couldn’t get past the memory of holding Becca in his arms. Feeling her mold into his embrace had sent an explosion of sensations through his body. Even now, he was having trouble getting his emotions under control.

  Seeing her hurt had nearly torn him in two. The EMTs had quickly assured him both injuries were superficial and would heal without complication, however he still stood close, with a watchful eye, as they cleaned the cut on her face and bandaged her arm.

  “The paramedic said you need to take it easy for the next twenty-four hours,” he told Becca when the medical team returned to their vehicle.

  “I’ll rest while you drive us home,” she assured him.

  After they provided information to the local law enforcement, Colby checked them out of the motel and helped her into the car.

  “Shall I adjust the seat belt?” he asked.

  She smiled sweetly and patted his hand. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m more worried about you having to drive back to Georgia after the stressful night.”

  With fewer cars on the road at this time of night, the miles passed quickly. Becca stared at the flickering lights and rested her head against the seat.

  “Where’d he go, Colby?” she mused.

  “Jacob?” Colby flicked his gaze at her.

  She nodded.

  “He went back to wherever he’s been holed up all these years, like a fox in his lair.”

  “Eight years.” She shook her head. “There’s no record of his whereabouts. I’ve checked repeatedly and could never find any thread that led back to him. He must have lived off the land or off the good-heartedness of the Amish since he didn’t leave a social security trail. No credit cards or phone or cell phone records to confirm he was alive during all that time. Tracking him down could be impossible, unless—”

  She picked up her phone and touched a number of apps.

  “What are you looking for?” Colby asked.

  “The locations of other Amish communities.”

  “You can’t access all of them, Becca. They’re spread out around the country.”

  “But I can focus on the ones closest to Alabama and Georgia.”

  “You can’t call them or send a text.” Colby stated the obvious, but he was trying to be realistic.

  “I’ll call law enforcement in nearby municipalities and small towns and inquire about crime in the area, especially fires or gas explosions that led to loss of life.”

  Colby realized where she was going. “And any widows who may have been hoodwinked by an Amish drifter.”

  “Exactly. Jacob came to Harmony from somewhere. He posed as a drifter who hired out to the widow he eventually married. That’s probably the way he’s been operating all this time and keeping under the radar. He hits on some unassuming older woman who needs help and then bilks her out of her money or land or both.”

  “Did you know the woman he married in Harmony?”

  Becca nodded. “Mary was a nice lady but rather sickly. Her husband had died of a heart attack. Both her house and land fell into disrepair. Other men in the community helped out when they could, but they had their own farms to tend. Everyone feared she’d lose her property, although a real estate agent claimed a buyer was interested.”

  “Was Jacob part of the community at that time?”

  “He showed up soon thereafter. Easy enough for him to see there was a problem with the neglected farm.” Becca brushed a strand of hair back from her face. “He’d done the same thing at our farm. In fact, that’s how I met him. He knocked at the door looking for work.”

  “Because your home needed repair?”

  She nodded. “Although that’s an understatement. My father would have loved having Jacob’s help, but he didn’t have money for any hired hands. Datt offered him lodging in the barn, which he accepted for a few weeks. Before long, he was helping the widow. Eventually,
he proposed and moved in with her.”

  “Jacob was younger than Mary?” Colby asked.

  “Much younger, but even with the Amish such things happen. Jacob had a way of charming people, including the elders. They were happy the widow was being cared for.”

  “Did Jacob know about the offer on the land?”

  “I’m not sure. I never heard him mention selling the farm.”

  “When did you start working for him?”

  “Not long after he and Mary had married. Her heath had declined. Jacob needed help with the house so he contacted my father. Much as I didn’t want to work for Jacob, my datt insisted.”

  “What was Jacob like?” Colby asked.

  “He could turn on a dime. He had seemed nice when I first met him, but he changed. Or perhaps he had been hiding his true self all along. I soon noticed how he treated his wife when he didn’t think I was watching.”

  “Did you mention your concerns to your father?”

  “Not at first. I knew he would say the problem was with me and not Jacob. That’s exactly what happened when I finally told him how worried I was about Mary’s health.”

  “Worried in what way?”

  “She kept growing weaker. I suspected Jacob was giving her something to hasten her debilitation.”

  “Poison?”

  Becca sighed. “Perhaps. I had no proof, but he wouldn’t allow her to see a doctor, and she often grew more agitated when he was around. I never saw any signs of physical abuse, but I overheard him belittle her on more than one occasion.”

  “Was that the reason you finally talked to your dad?”

  Becca rubbed her forehead and didn’t speak for a long moment.

  “Do you feel okay?” he asked.

  “A headache, that’s all.”

  “You need to rest, Becca. Too much has happened. You should talk to Wilson. Tell him to take you off the case. He’ll understand.”

  She shook her head. “I’m the perfect person to go after Jacob. I know what he looks like, the sound of his voice. He can walk in both the English world and the plain without being questioned, yet an Amish community is the perfect place for him to hide out because the people stick to themselves and don’t mix with the locals in nearby towns. He’s hidden with their help for too long.”

  “Just as long as we work together, Becca.”

  “I called you tonight, Colby, when I heard someone outside my room. You didn’t answer.”

  She was right. He had seen the record of her call on his smart phone, but he hadn’t heard it ring because he’d been on the far side of the building rechecking the perimeter of the motel as a security precaution.

  What he had heard was the gunfire, but he’d arrived at Becca’s room too late. Seeing the broken window and battered door had sent his heart to his throat until he’d spied her running into the woods.

  He had wanted to keep Becca safe, but he hadn’t been there in time.

  He wouldn’t let it happen again. He was committed to protecting Becca and bringing Jacob Yoder to justice.

  TWELVE

  Becca and Colby arrived on post in time for her to grab a few hours of sleep before her alarm went off the next morning. The night before, Colby had insisted on escorting her inside and then checked her room before he finally said good-night.

  She could get used to having Colby around. Not that she couldn’t handle things on her own, but an extra set of eyes working an investigation was nice, especially on a difficult case. Besides, bouncing ideas back and forth helped her sort through the fragments of information they had already gleaned.

  Something else was nice about Colby. He had a funny way of touching her arm when he was concerned about her well-being. She tried to ignore the warmth that flowed though her whenever he was near and instead blamed her fluctuating internal temperature on the weather. But southern Georgia’s temps were hovering around forty degrees at night with daytime highs in the mid-fifties.

  The truth was that Colby’s closeness affected her internal thermostat because she was attracted to the handsome agent. Although she knew better than to allow attraction to get in the way of an investigation, she couldn’t help herself. At least Colby didn’t realize the effect he had on her. She needed to keep her emotions in check as long as possible. Colby was her partner professionally, but not in any other way.

  End of story.

  In spite of the post-wide training holiday, a number of folks were at their desks when she entered CID Headquarters that morning.

  Raynard Otis saluted and then offered her a welcoming smile. “How’s it going, Agent Miller?” he asked when she stopped in front of his desk.

  “You should be home relaxing, Ray. Didn’t you get the memo about the training holiday?”

  “Yes, ma’am, and no, ma’am. I read the memo, but where else would I want to be this morning?” He shrugged. His mocha face stretched into a wide grin. “Everyone else came to work today. We’ve got a major investigation plus other time-sensitive directives that I need to take over to post headquarters. By the way, Chief Wilson said you might be interested in working on the farmers’ market task force the general’s wife is leading.”

  Becca held up her hand and shook her head. “Not until we get to the bottom of this current investigation. Is the chief in his office?”

  “No, ma’am. I expect he’ll arrive shortly.”

  Becca stopped momentarily at the coffeepot to pour a cup before heading to her office. A bare desk greeted her. No flowers. No plants. No photos of family. Just a computer and a stack of manila folders.

  Nice and neat, the way she liked her life to be.

  Except things had suddenly gotten complicated.

  Logging in to her computer, she quickly produced a list of Amish communities and corresponding law enforcement agencies in the nearby towns. She printed off two copies.

  Becca heard Colby’s voice before she saw him. He greeted Ray and took the same path she had earlier to the break room and the coffeepot. In spite of the caffeine, he looked tired when he entered her cubicle some minutes later.

  “Long time no see.” His dark eyes twinkled, and his lips pulled into a smile.

  “Did you sleep at all?” she asked.

  “A few hours. And you?”

  “The same.”

  “How’s the arm?” he asked.

  She glanced down at the bandage. “It’s fine.”

  “You always say you’re fine. Sometimes I wish you’d let me in on your life.”

  She stared at him for a long moment. “Okay.” Her right hand rubbed across the bandage. “It’s sore, but no significant pain.”

  He nodded. “That’s better. Now let’s talk to the chief.”

  “He’s not here yet. I checked on the way in.”

  Colby pointed to her computer. “I can contact some of those law enforcement agencies near Amish communities, if you’ve got a list handy.”

  “I’d appreciate the help.” She handed a copy of the list to Colby. “If you work from the top down, I’ll start at the bottom.”

  “You know where to find me.” He took the printout she offered and waved as he left her cubicle.

  The work was slow and frustrating. Becca’s optimism plummeted as one after another of the law enforcement agencies had little or no information about crime within the Amish communities, especially nothing about widows dying in explosions or house fires.

  Becca rubbed her neck to stave off stiffness from wedging the phone between her shoulder and ear for too long and was glad for the interruption when Colby tapped his knuckles on the wall to her cubicle and peered inside.

  “The chief arrived a few minutes ago. Brody is debriefing him now about Arnold. We’re scheduled next.”

  “Let me make one more phone call.”


  He nodded. “See you in ten minutes.”

  She plugged in the next number on her list and asked to speak to the chief of police of a small town in Eastern Tennessee once someone answered.

  “This is Chief O’Brian.” A deep voice.

  She pulled the phone closer to her ear.

  “Chief, this is Special Agent Becca Miller. I’m with the U.S. Army Criminal Investigation Division at Fort Rickman, Georgia.”

  “Thanks for your service, and God bless the military. What can I do for you, Agent Miller?”

  She provided a brief but accurate description of what had happened in Harmony eight years ago and the need to determine where Jacob Yoder had been living since that time. “We think he may have killed one of our construction contractors on post.”

  The chief clucked his tongue while Becca waited, hoping for some small bit of information that could help her track down Jacob.

  “I don’t recall anyone named Yoder,” the chief replied. “We did have a guy, about two years ago, by the name of Lapp. Jacob Lapp. Sounds like a similar M.O.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Lapp appeared one day and starts helping one of the Amish widows with a farm in need of a man to run it. They marry, her health declines and she dies some months later. No one was suspicious until he wiped out her bank account and skipped town before we could bring him in for questioning.”

  “Do you happen to have a description?”

  “Give me a minute to find the file.”

  Becca tapped her fingers on her desk.

  “Here you go.” The cop’s voice. “Lapp was six-two. Dark hair. Small scar on his left cheek.”

  Becca wanted to clap her hands with glee. “That sounds like my perp. When was the last time you saw him?”

  “The day of his wife’s funeral. He hasn’t been seen since then.”

  She thanked the man, disconnected and with smooth strokes wrote the information on a tablet of paper. She pushed her chair back and hurried to find Colby.

  “I’ve got something.” She held up the pad.

  “Tell me as we head to the chief’s office.”

  “A chief of police in eastern Tennessee has seen our guy. Same type of deal. An Amish widow. Failing health. She died and Jacob—this time going by the name Jacob Lapp—walked away with her money.”