by Debby Giusti
Morale Support promised a sound system for the commanding general’s welcoming remarks. The post band would provide music, and the children’s choirs from the Main Post Chapel would sing at various times throughout the morning.
“I’m glad Special Agent Miller could be with us today,” Mrs. Cameron said, nearing the conclusion of the meeting. “Becca, you and your folks will provide security?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The bishop shook his head as if somewhat concerned. “I do not expect trouble. Do you?”
“Not at all, sir.” Mrs. Cameron quickly stepped in to reassure the bishop. “But when we have so many people in an area, we like to have security on hand as a precaution. Regrettably problems sometimes occur even in the best of situations.”
After a final wrap-up, Mrs. Cameron thanked the committee members for taking part in the planning task force.
As the other folks headed toward the front door, Becca stepped closer to the bishop who had placed his coffee cup and saucer on the small side table.
“Sir, I drove through the Amish community and noticed a house that sits along one of the side roads. It’s surrounded by rather dense forest that opens into a clearing. The house is in need of repair, which is not in keeping with the other homes. There’s a barn to the left of the main house and a hill behind. The person has two dogs, both Doberman pinschers.”
The bishop nodded. “I know of this house.”
“Who lives there, sir? Is it someone in your community?”
“An older woman. Fannie Lehman. Her husband died some months ago when a tree fell on him.”
Just as had happened in Alabama. “I’m sorry about her loss.”
The bishop nodded. “Gott gives life and takes it away.”
“I’m sure Mrs. Lehman finds it hard to manage her land. Does she have someone to help her?”
“Why does this cause you concern?”
“I’m looking for a man who may be hiding out among the Amish. His name is Jacob Yoder. He’s six-two with brown hair and a scar on his left cheek.”
“I do not know this man.” The bishop reached for his hat. “Besides, the Amish are peace-loving people. We do not deal with violence.”
“Yet sometimes it finds you.”
His eyes narrowed and his gnarly fingers gripped the brim of his hat. “You mentioned security and now you tell me of an Amish man who hides from the law. I will not take part in anything that brings discord or strife to my people. Even if we have agreed to the market, we must maintain our way of life first. You understand, yah?”
A subtle warning, but one Becca understood. If she disrupted the Amish way of life, the bishop would draw back from his agreement with Fort Rickman to hold the market and craft fairs.
Mrs. Cameron stepped toward them. She glanced first at the bishop and then at Becca. “Is something wrong?”
Becca remained silent, waiting to hear what the bishop would say.
“I was discussing the Amish way with Miss Miller and our love for the peaceful life.”
“Military personnel are tasked with ensuring the peace, Bishop,” Becca answered. “But we know that evil people do evil things.”
Turning to the general’s wife, she said, “Thank you, ma’am, for the coffee. I’ll see myself out.”
Becca left the house frustrated by the bishop’s stubborn determination to see things only his way. He didn’t realize that if Jacob Yoder were in the area, the Amish could be in danger, no matter how peace-loving they were.
She climbed into her car and called Colby. “The meeting ended, and I’m headed back to CID Headquarters. Did Wilson okay the request for a search warrant?”
Colby pulled in a stiff breath. “He was hesitant and wanted to run the request past General Cameron.”
Heaviness settled over Becca’s shoulders as she recalled the bishop’s comment. “I can guess what the general said.”
“Nothing is to interfere with our good relationship with the Amish. Evidently Mrs. Cameron has been interested in getting this organized for months. The bishop was the negative force. He’s only recently changed his mind.”
“But what if Jacob Yoder is hiding out at the house?”
“Wilson considers that a big what-if, but to his credit, he contacted the Freemont chief of police and asked him to increase surveillance in the area. The county sheriff will provide additional backup, although without a photograph of Jacob, law enforcement doesn’t know who they’re looking for.”
“Did you mention the scar on his cheek?”
“A lot of people have scars, Becca.”
“The name of the woman who lives in the run-down house is Lehman. Fannie Lehman. Her husband died accidently a few months ago. He was killed by a fallen tree.”
“Sounds familiar,” Colby said.
The door to the commanding general’s house opened and the bishop walked outside.
“Gotta go, Colby. I’ll see you back at headquarters.”
The bishop nodded goodbye to Mrs. Cameron and walked toward his buggy.
Becca stepped from her car and approached the rig.
“Bishop, I’m sorry if I caused you concern inside. I want the Amish to maintain their way of life, but there is a man I fear may cause problems. He lived in an Amish community near Harmony, Alabama. Some years ago, he killed my father and sister. He may be in this area now.”
The bishop’s gaze softened. “You carry great pain, and for this I am sorry, but I do not know of the man you mentioned.”
“Mrs. Lehman is living alone and vulnerable. Would you ensure no one has moved in to help her? Someone who might have ulterior motives.”
The bishop hesitated for a long moment and then nodded. “I will speak to her.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“But Ms. Miller, you mentioned an Amish community in Alabama. Your father and sister, they were plain?”
She nodded, feeling her eyes sting under his gentle scrutiny.
“And you were, as well?” he asked.
“Yah.”
The bishop nodded ever so slightly. “This man, this Jacob Yoder, he caused you to flee the Amish and find safety with the English?”
“I was safe for eight years, but he’s found me, Bishop. Now I must stop him.”
“He is not Amish if he deals in violence. I will ask Gott to protect you so this Jacob Yoder cannot hurt you again.”
He nodded farewell and climbed into the buggy, the squeak of the carriage and the slap of the reins against the horses’ haunches all too familiar. The bishop clicked his tongue, and the horses stepped forward, the creak of the wheels over the pavement sounding in the morning calm.
“Remember, Becca,” the bishop called back to her from the carriage. “Gott loves you.”
* * *
“The county sheriff said he’ll have his deputies patrol the Amish area,” Colby said once Becca arrived back at CID Headquarters. “But he doesn’t expect to find anything suspect.”
“Is the Freemont chief of police interested in getting a search warrant?”
“Negative. Nor is the sheriff.”
“Why not?”
“Because Jacob Yoder is dead. At least, that’s what everyone believes. Don Palmer, the current chief of the local Freemont P.D., called Harmony and talked to Lewis Stone. He’s sympathetic, but not willing to exhume the body.”
“Which doesn’t make sense.”
“I called him. According to Lewis, he needs to match DNA from the exhumed remains with a DNA sample from Yoder or his brother, which he doesn’t have.”
Becca held up her hand. “You mean Stone needs something from Yoder’s past that contains his DNA?”
“That’s the problem. We don’t have any leads on the brother, and everything in Yoder’s hou
se burned to the ground.”
“Is that the only thing stopping him from exhuming the body?”
“Sounds like it.”
Becca nodded. “Then we’ll have to dig up a sample of Jacob’s DNA.”
“You mean another trip to Harmony?”
She nodded. “We can go this afternoon.”
“Only if you agree to the following conditions, Becca. We work together and you don’t hold anything else back from me.”
“I promise. Cross my heart.”
As much as he wanted to ask what she had on Jacob, Colby knew Becca’s reticence and decided not to press for more details. Everything would be revealed in time.
Right now, he wanted to ensure she didn’t go racing off across the countryside on her own. Becca’s enthusiasm to find Jacob often conflicted with her need to be cautious and vigilant.
Another concern niggled at Colby. If she had DNA evidence that led back to Jacob Yoder, there could be other secrets Becca was keeping from him, as well.
FOURTEEN
Becca sat in the passenger seat next to Colby and watched the countryside roll by as they drove back to Harmony and the Amish community. An afternoon meeting with the military police about post security had kept them tied up at the office longer than they had expected. The only plus was that Becca had been able to coordinate help for the upcoming farmers’ market and craft fair following the meeting.
The traffic getting off post at the close of the workday had added to their delay. Road construction as well as a fender bender held them up even longer.
Becca glanced at the sun, low in the sky. The optimism she had felt earlier plummeted. Returning home would be hard enough in daylight. The approaching darkness made her chest tighten. The last time she had been in the house had been the middle of the night to find her sister and father slaughtered by an evil man who still wreaked havoc in too many lives.
As much as she needed to stop Jacob, she was anxious about returning to her past both figuratively and literally.
“You’re quiet this evening,” Colby finally said, as if aware of how deep within herself she had gone.
“You know how introverts are,” she said with a half smile she didn’t feel.
“Thinking about your family?”
She nodded. “And that night. Jacob had told Katie he would come after her if she tried to flee. She had struggled to keep him at a distance, but as Mary became more and more infirmed, Jacob became more brazen.”
Becca tapped her fingers on the console.
“Katie feared something would happen. She called me from Elizabeth’s house.” Becca’s throat tightened as she heard Katie’s frantic voice echo in her mind. “She said she needed me. Katie thought I could protect her and stand up to Jacob.”
“You were stationed at Fort Campbell?”
“That’s right. I left as fast as I could and drove nonstop for five hours. When I arrived, I found my father on the floor, the life ebbing from him. Katie had been killed in the pantry.”
Looking into the darkness ahead, Becca relived the horror of that night. “I heard footsteps upstairs and knew Jacob was still in the house.”
She thought again of the heavy footfalls on the stairwell as Jacob descended to the main floor. “I raced outside. Jacob stepped onto the porch and searched the night. He...”
She hesitated, unable to enter again into that moment when they had connected, his gaze finding her in the darkness. His face had contorted with rage. “He raised his hand in anger and screamed that if I ran from him, he would find me and kill me.”
“You eluded him for a number of years.”
“Only because I asked for assignments in Europe. I came back for a few weeks of temporary duty here and there.” She pushed a strand of hair away from her face. “I...I was always looking over my shoulder, thinking Jacob was closing in on me. Even in Europe, I’d thought I’d see him in the distance. Of course, it wasn’t him. It was my mind playing tricks on me.”
She touched the window. “I ran out of options and talked myself into believing that he had died in the fire. The job opened at Fort Rickman. I knew Chief Wilson was a strong leader and thought the assignment would be good for my career.”
They rode for a few miles before Colby asked, “When you learned Jacob’s house had burned and his body was supposedly found inside, did you believe the news or did you suspect he was still alive right from the start?”
“I wanted to believe he had died. Elizabeth had invited me to stay with her. Sheriff McDougal came to her house to question me. He seemed sympathetic and knew I was struggling.”
“Did you tell him your suspicions that Jacob was still alive?”
“Not at first, because I wanted to believe he was dead.”
“Sounds as if something changed your mind.”
She nodded. “I went for a run a few days later. Of course, I was still in shock, still grieving.”
Colby reached for her hand. His touch offered support and a connection that had grown stronger in the last couple days. He was more than a partner. Much more.
“Jacob followed me.” She shook her head. “I should rephrase that—someone followed me. I headed along one of the trails that led into the country. There’s a small pond. Mom’s take their children there to feed the ducks and geese.”
“But that day was different?”
Becca nodded. “Dark clouds had formed, and the wind picked up strength. I knew the rain would start soon, but I wanted to circle the pond before I returned to town.”
She tugged at her hair with her free hand. “I heard someone call my name.”
“It was Jacob?”
“I never saw him, but I recognized his voice.” Again her slender shoulders rose. “At least, I thought it was his voice. Rain fell in fat drops that stung my face and mixed with my tears. I ran as fast as I could, but the wind was against me, and the wet ground was slick. I—I kept looking over my shoulders.”
“But you didn’t see him?”
“No, but I sensed his presence. I told the sheriff. He told me to see a shrink and get some meds.”
“Did you?”
“Of course not. I didn’t need medication to know what I had heard. As soon as the bodies were interred, I drove back to Fort Campbell and put in for the CID. I needed to have the knowledge and strength and wherewithal to protect myself.”
Colby squeezed her hand. “We’ll find him, Becca.”
She smiled ever so slightly. Much as she wanted Colby’s help, she knew this fight was her own and too many had died already. She didn’t want to pull him down with her. How could she endure if something happened to Colby because of her?
In the end, she’d have to confront Jacob. She had started the terrible spiral of events that had led to her sister and father being murdered and now even Elizabeth had been a victim of Jacob’s crazed wrath.
Jacob was her problem. She’d started it, and she planned to finish it. She’d find Jacob and bring him to justice if it was the last thing she ever did.
* * *
Although relieved that Becca had shared some of what had happened long ago, Colby’s heart tightened hearing the pain in her voice as she talked about Katie.
Thinking of his own sisters made her regret even more significant. The creep who had jilted his oldest sister, Gloria, was on his list of most heinous individuals.
His sister’s broken heart had been hard enough to bear. He didn’t want to think about any physical harm befalling her.
Plus, Becca had lost her father. Not that they seemed to have had the best relationship, but he was still her parent, and she had a strong sense of duty to family. Becca had wanted, and needed, her dad’s attention and affection. He’d ignored her on that level and instead had made her feel less than important.
&
nbsp; Colby thought of the future, wishing his tomorrows would include Becca. Maybe some kids. He’d make sure they knew how much they were wanted and loved. Of course, he’d also ensure they were well mannered and respected authority, but every child needed love and affirmation.
He glanced at Becca. Her head rested against the back of the seat. He wasn’t sure if she was sleeping, but he wouldn’t do anything to wake her if she were.
Growing up must have been tough, always feeling she didn’t measure up. Becca was a beautiful person inside and out, and Colby wanted to tell her how special she was and how important she was to him. She filled his thoughts and made their time together bright. He wanted to tell her a lot of things, which would have to wait until after the investigation.
Right now, he had to help her go back to her past. She carried a lot of pain that needed to be healed.
He knew the internal struggle guilt could cause. If only he hadn’t transferred to another forward operating base, Ellen might still be alive. He’d left base earlier that same day. No one expected the mortar attack. He learned later that Ellen had been preoccupied with a report she needed to finish and had hesitated seeking shelter. He’d always been there before to push her to the safety of the bunker in time. Her delay had proved deadly when the second mortar hit.
Ellen had severed their relationship and probably would have ignored his help even if he hadn’t left base, yet he still felt responsible for her death. The fact that he hadn’t been there to protect her was a wound he wondered if he’d ever be able to heal. That’s why protecting Becca was so important.
He glanced at her again. Becca’s eyes were closed and her breath shallow. He and Becca both had holes in their hearts that needed to be filled. He wanted to help her. Maybe in helping her, he’d fix his own hurt. Or maybe he would never be able to forgive himself and redeem his past.
Either way, he wanted Becca to heal.
Please, Lord.
He pursed his lips. Did God listen to him anymore, or had He given up on Colby ever coming back to the fold?