Love Inspired Suspense September 2015 #1 (21 page)

“Maybe.” The doubt in the professor's eyes unnerved her.

“Uri and Jonas, the brothers helping out on my farm, are in his gang. Maybe I should question them.” She hadn't done this for fear of embarrassing Samuel in front of his friends and pushing him further away. “Samuel is not himself. I don't care what your assistant says.”

Silence stretched between them.

“Let me drive you home,” the professor offered.

“But my driver...” She didn't feel much like arguing; her nerves were too frazzled.

“Do you have his cell phone number? I'll call him.”

She handed him her hired driver's business card. She'd call him from the diner whenever she needed a ride. The professor paused a moment when she handed him the card.

Rebecca wanted to cling desperately to the hope the professor had offered her.
Samuel is likely to be baptized.
But deep in her heart she knew something was wrong. Very, very wrong. She had once heard her friend Hannah describe it as a mother's intuition.

Rebecca feared Samuel was being consumed by the dark shadow his father had cast upon his family.

Rebecca shuddered. She feared that she, too, would forever stand in the dark.

TWO

T
he wheels of Jake's truck made a rhythmic thrum-thrum-thrum noise on the road. He usually cranked tunes whenever he was in the car, a surefire method to drown out his thoughts. However, he doubted Rebecca would appreciate his penchant for classic rock. And singing along.

Rebecca shifted in her seat, partially facing him. “I appreciate your kindness in driving me home.” She tapped her fingers on the seat next to her, as if working up the nerve to say something. “I'd appreciate if you left any mention of our conversation out of any publications.”

A sharp dagger twisted in his gut. Jake had prided himself on respecting the Amish and portraying them in the best possible light. But as a professor, he always built off the facts. He never twisted his findings to suit his hypothesis.

“The newspaper quoted you in the paper after Willard's arrest,” she said accusingly when he didn't answer. “You shouldn't have mentioned me or my children.”

“I only mentioned your family in brief. I focused on Willard. You have to appreciate how curious outsiders would be.”

“All too well. Unfortunately, curiosity didn't stop with the outsiders,” Rebecca muttered.

A muscle ticked in Jake's jaw. “Please forgive me for being blunt, but that was a fascinating case. It rarely happens that an Amish person commits murder.” He had respected her privacy. He had seen the sadness in her eyes and he would have felt like a vulture—like nothing more than a bloodthirsty journalist hot on the trail of a story—if he had approached her for an interview. Instead, he was careful to feed the news media facts regarding the Amish. It was only logical considering his position at the university and his proximity to Apple Creek.

“While you hide behind your fancy job at the university, I'm stuck living the life of a murderer's widow. How do you think people look at me in town? It's not like I can avoid their curious stares. I had to get a job at the diner to make ends meet.”

“The Amish community is known for their forgiveness.” Here he was spouting out his Amish research to her, an Amish woman. He did realize the ridiculousness of it, but he was struggling for something to say.

“Many have been kind, but I see the looks of pity in their eyes. It's painful. A few have acted out...like perhaps tonight.”

“The sheriff wasn't able to get any leads on the previous incidents?”

“No,” Rebecca whispered, “but once we stopped calling the sheriff, the number of incidents died down. I thought we were in the clear.”

“Do you suspect your Amish neighbors?”

She shrugged. “It's hard to imagine...any of this, really.”

“Now you fear if Samuel leaves the Amish community, the judgment from your neighbors will be unbearable.”

“The look when I gaze into a mirror will be unbearable. I want my old life back. Before Willard lost his way.”

Jake adjusted his grip on the steering wheel. “I'll be there for Samuel as much as he allows me to be.” Samuel had grown quieter of late with him, too. “Maybe he's struggling with his decision to remain Amish.”

“He is acting out. Hanging around with boys who drive cars, skipping out early on church service, listening to loud music...” She let her words trail off, perhaps hoping he'd confirm the list or perhaps add to it. “Maybe his friends are leading him astray.”

“Perhaps.”

Rebecca huffed her frustration. “Samuel has not had the typical Amish upbringing. His mother died when he was a young boy. He had an overly strict father who was killed in jail after his murder conviction. That, I fear, has shaped him more than anything. More than any positive influence on my part.”

“My interviews with Samuel show he was confident that testifying against his father was the right thing to do.”

“After his father's death...” She stopped to compose herself, then continued, “...Samuel retreated away from everyone. Then this summer, after Elmer's death, he got worse. Far worse. I'm afraid soon I'll have lost him for
gut
.”

She faced him squarely. “Perhaps you can talk to him about his father? I can't bear to do it. You could convince Samuel that he did the right thing. By stopping his father, he undoubtedly saved lives.” Hope laced her soft voice.

“I can.” Jake turned up her driveway as dusk gathered. He thought he saw a light go off in the basement. Maybe it was the reflection of his headlights in the uneven glass of the narrow basement windows.

“I have built a solid relationship with Samuel and a group of other young Amish men. I can talk to them. I'll encourage him to come to you. But I must be cautious about how much I reveal. They are young adults. He's at the age where he needs to be making his own decisions. Living his own life. And dealing with consequences on his own.”

Rebecca unbuckled her seat belt and pushed the door open a fraction. She bowed her head, leaving him studying the top of her bonnet. “Thank you.” She twisted to get out of the car.

“Let me walk you to the door.”

She held up her hand in refusal.

“The house is dark.” Now he was second-guessing himself. Had he seen a light snap off in the basement?

“Samuel is...out.” The statement seemed more a question. “My daughters are visiting my brother, Mark, spending the night. I'll turn on a lamp once I get inside. I'll be fine.”

“Are you sure? The incident on campus must have rattled you. I think we should've called the sheriff.”

“
Neh
, I want to put the night behind me. We've had enough trouble out here.”

Jake pushed his truck door open. “I'm escorting you to the door.”

“Neh.”
Rebecca shook her head for emphasis. “I've been on my own for well over a year now. I don't need a man to walk me to the door. I'm not looking to bring more trouble into my life. If Samuel trusts you and is talking to you, I want that to continue. You're right. I shouldn't have interfered. And—” a shy smile tilted the corners of her mouth “—I don't want to give my neighbors another reason to gossip.” Rebecca ran her fingers down the ties of her bonnet. “You can find me at the diner if there's anything about Samuel you feel you can share.”

Jake stared at her for a long moment, then pulled his door closed. “Okay.” Her dismissal had been unmistakable. “Please turn on a light once you get inside. I'm not leaving until you do.”

Without saying another word, Rebecca climbed out of the car. In the growing darkness, he watched her move toward the farmhouse, her full skirt swinging around her legs. He had spent three years studying the Amish youth, but he had never had a conversation like he'd experienced tonight.

Rebecca's dark hair and dark eyes would stay in his memory long after her clean scent left the cab of his dirty old pickup truck. Completely against his nature, he waited in his truck drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, while Rebecca let herself in.

He watched as she disappeared into the house and he waited.

And waited.

As time stretched, his pulse thudded in his ears. No light.

“Come on, Rebecca.”

He angled his head and leaned closer to the windshield, as if that would make the light appear sooner. He glanced at the digital clock on the dash. Three minutes had passed.

Shaking his head, he pushed open the car door.

Something was wrong.

* * *

Rebecca unlocked the front door and stepped inside. She locked the door and placed the keys on the small shelf next to the door. The scent from last night's fire in the woodstove still hung in the air. Growing up, the smell always had made her feel warm and cozy, the sign of an inviting home in the cold of winter. That had been a long time ago. Too much in her life had changed since the tranquil days of her childhood.

Back sore, she set her tote bag and umbrella down on the bench inside the door.

When she had met Professor Burke she hadn't expected such a warm gentleman. Some of the Amish elders, although polite, had complained about the so-called professor meeting with their youth and filling their heads with worldly ideas.

However, Rebecca wasn't sure. She thought the professor was truly interested in studying their way of life, not inserting himself into it. However, she couldn't hide her disappointment that he couldn't give her any new information about her son. She had hoped to find a way to reach Samuel because she had failed at all her attempts and Samuel only seemed to be growing more distant with time.

She took off her coat and hung it on a hook. Maybe it was the nature of being a young man on the cusp of making a pivotal decision in his life.

Oh, she wouldn't be able to bear it if he left Apple Creek. She feared for his soul if he did.

A rattling sounded at the back of the house. Maybe it was Samuel. What if it wasn't? A quiet yelp sounded in her throat and she almost called out to him when something made her pause.

Holding her breath, she walked through her home toward the kitchen. The floorboards creaked under her deliberate steps. The back door yawned open and a stiff wind sent it crashing against the wall.

A dark shadow bolted across the yard. Tingles of panic bit at her fingertips.

Someone had been in her house.

Rebecca slammed the back door shut and turned the key in the lock. How had they gotten in?

Her raspy breaths sounded in her ears. A pounding at the front door startled her. She spun around and stared, uncertain what to do. She was out here. Alone.

Slowly, she walked to the front door. Her mouth grew dry and a weight bore down on her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She reached the front door and flattened her hands on the cool wood.

“Who is it?” The words came out as a croak.

“It's Jake. Are you okay?”

Relief washed over her. With a shaky hand, Rebecca grabbed the keys and opened the door. All her limbs went numb. Her lips couldn't form any words.

“I got worried when you didn't turn on a light.” The professor's gaze swept across the sparsely furnished room cloaked in heavy shadows. Rebecca wondered if he saw something she hadn't. Rockers sat in the middle of the room. A table with her knitting sat between the chairs. The familiar setting seemed foreign now.

An intruder had been in her home.

Rebecca crossed the room and turned the switch on the kerosene lamp, casting the room in a warm yellow glow. She couldn't stop shaking. “Someone was in my house. They ran out the back door when I came in.”

The professor stepped back, the surprise evident on his face. “Are you sure they're gone?”

Rebecca's eyes drifted to the back of her house. “I s-s-saw s-s-someone running across the yard.” She clamped her jaw to get it to stop shaking.

“I need to check the house. Make sure no one else is here.”

Her stomach dropped to her boots. Why hadn't she thought of that? She grabbed the arm of the rocker and lowered herself into it, suddenly feeling sick.

“Stay close to me while I check the house.” The professor held out his hand and she studied it a minute before rising to her feet and taking it. A knot of emotions trapped her words. “Do you have a flashlight?”

Nodding, she dropped his hand and led him to the kitchen. She grabbed the cool handle of the solid flashlight sitting on the counter and handed it to him.

Its beam made everything not in its path seem even darker. The professor must have sensed her discomfort. “I'll make sure you're safe.”

A nervous giggle escaped her lips. “Yeah, the professor protecting an Amish woman.”

The professor moved toward the basement door. “Don't underestimate me. Before I went back to college for my PhD, I was an army ranger.”

“I suppose that makes you tough?” She had heard of the army, of course, but she didn't know what a ranger was. The Amish were conscientious objectors and didn't believe in fighting in wars.

The professor opened the basement door and cast the beam of light down the stairs. “Tougher than most.” He gently squeezed her hand. “Stay right here. I'm going to check the basement.”

After a few long, tense-filled minutes, he emerged from the basement. “No one's down there. Let's check upstairs.”

She nodded, nerves getting the best of her.

As she skulked behind the professor, afraid to walk through her own home, she could already hear the church elders tsk-tsking over a man who wasn't her husband going upstairs. Surely they'd understand.
If
they ever found out. Right now, the elders weren't her biggest concern. Someone hiding under her bed or lurking in a dark corner was.

Fear knotted her stomach. She'd never be able to sleep tonight.

The professor pointed his chin toward the door at the top of the stairs. “Is this your bedroom?”

She nodded and emitted an indecipherable sound that she hoped he took as yes. She lingered in the doorway as the professor made a sweep of the room.
Empty.
He did the same in the room Grace and Katie, her young daughters, shared. She was grateful she had left them with her brother, Mark, and his family for the night. They were only six and eight and Rebecca wanted to provide as much consistency for them after everything they had been through in their young lives.

The last upstairs bedroom was Samuel's. He kept the door shut. He had been doing that for the past few months, ever since Elmer had died. Rebecca immediately felt traitorous for letting this stranger into her son's room. A room her son didn't even allow her access to.

The professor gave her a quick nod, his face heavily shadowed in the hallway. He turned the handle and pushed the door open.

Rebecca skirted around the professor and turned on the kerosene lamp on the bedside table. She sucked in a gasp. The room was a mess. The quilt she had personally made for Samuel was askew on the bed. Papers littered the floor.

“Samuel hasn't allowed me in here for months.”