Love Inspired Suspense September 2015 #1 (24 page)

Jake wanted to see firsthand why Rebecca was worried about Samuel. To date, the young men he had talked to had not given him cause for major concern apart from the normal shenanigans of an Amish male prior to baptism. But the sheriff's concerns about drugs in the Amish community made him wary.

And Rebecca's plea for help wouldn't allow him to let this go.

The tiny stones on the driveway crunched under his brown loafers. Singing flowed out from the barn. The event must have started earlier than he had thought. As he got closer, he noticed a few Amish boys leaning against a buggy, the red glow of cigarettes lighting up with each puff like fireflies setting the night aglow.

Hands stuffed in his pockets, Jake approached them, scanning their faces.
No Samuel.

“Ah, it's the professor. So nice to see you,” one of them said. Even with the Pennsylvania Dutch accent, Jake recognized the universal language of sarcasm.

Jake knew the youth. Eli Troyer. Apparently being the host family for the singing didn't mean he felt obligated to sit through song after song from the
Ausbund
.

“Sorry to crash your party,” Jake said, trying to sound nonthreatening.

Eli tossed his cigarette on the gravel and snuffed it out with the tip of his boot. Uri and Jonas Yoder, Rebecca's farmhands, watched silently, puffing on their cigarettes. Jake wondered how Eli's father felt about finding all the cigarette butts around the barn after the Amish youth descended upon his home.

“What's up, Professor? You looking to take notes? Count how many cigarettes I've had? Rat me out to my
mem
?” Eli gave him a pointed glare, narrowing his lips and emitting a steady stream of smoke.

Jake ignored the comment. “I'm looking for Samuel.”

Eli adjusted his hat farther back on his head, the soft light from the barn lit on the amusement in his eyes. “Didn't you get enough information from his
mem
?”

One of the Yoder brothers laughed, a monotone sound that lacked amusement.

“I told you my research was private. That I protect your identities unless you give me permission to use your names.”

Eli tapped out another cigarette and put it between his lips without lighting it. The crunching sound of footsteps on gravel grew closer. Samuel strolled around the corner. His eyes widened a fraction at seeing Jake, but he quickly composed himself, shoved his hands under his armpits and exuded an air of aloofness. “What are
you
doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“I'm done talking.”

“Because I talked to your mother?”

Samuel pushed the gravel around with the toe of his boot. “Exactly. You didn't keep your end of the bargain. I talked to you for research for some stupid paper you had to write on the wild Amish youth.” In the heavy shadows, Jake couldn't see it, but he sensed an eye roll accompanying the word
stupid
.

“My research is important.” But not as important as the welfare of this young man.

“Not to me.”

Uri, Jonas and Eli laughed at their friend's witty comeback. It was as Jake feared. However, securing his research subjects was only part of the reason he had driven out here tonight. The other was concern for Rebecca's safety. Someone obviously had something against her and wasn't ready to let it go. He had heard rumblings throughout the Amish community that not everyone believed Rebecca was blameless. He had heard one young man repeat the ramblings of his father. “It wonders me how a wife couldn't know what her husband was up to. She's just as guilty, I tell you.”

Then there was the issue of drugs in Apple Creek and Rebecca's concerns that perhaps Samuel had gotten himself involved.

How had he paid for all the electronics in his room?

Like a research puzzle, Jake wanted to snap all the pieces into place in hopes of discovering what was going on here before any more lives were ruined.

“Can you give me a few minutes, Samuel?” Jake tipped his head toward his truck parked on the side of the road. “I can give you a ride home. It'll be a lot warmer than riding in a friend's buggy. Unless, of course, you brought your own buggy.” Jake glanced around but couldn't determine how Samuel had gotten here.

Samuel glanced down, studying the gravel. “I'm going to the singing.”

“We both know you have no plans to join the group.”

“The professor got one thing right.” Uri playfully punched Samuel in the arm. “But my friend here ain't going with an
Englisher
.”

Jake caught Samuel's eye; a mix of defiance and fear flashed in their depths.

Jake pulled the zipper on his jacket up to his neck, blocking the brisk fall breeze. “Can I ask you guys something?”

Eli leaned back on the buggy and rested the heel of his boot on the wheel. The other three youth looked at him with apparent disinterest.

“The sheriff told me there are a lot of drugs flowing through Apple Creek.”

Eli grunted and crossed his arms over his chest.

“You guys know anything about that? Heard about anyone dealing?” Jake jerked his chin toward the crops. “Heard of anyone growing marijuana?”

Uri laughed. “Yeah, we'll be selling marijuana at the roadside stand next to corn and pumpkins.”

Jake turned to Samuel. “How about you?”

Samuel kept his expression neutral. “The only drug stories I hear are the ones that make the papers.”
Like Elmer's tragic accident.
“Sorry...” He shrugged. “Can't help you.”

They stood staring at one another, silent save for the youth singing in four-part harmony in the barn.

Eli pushed off the wagon wheel. “Let's get out of here. This singing is a drag tonight.” Eli gestured to what Jake thought was the buggy with an overabundance of reflector decals, but actually, he was looking past the Amish form of transportation to a ten-year-old beater car Jake hadn't noticed before. “Let's leave before my
mem
brings out snacks. Then we'll be forced to join the group.”

“Samuel?” Jake asked, a hopeful note in his voice.

“I gotta go, man.” Samuel turned his back to Jake and followed his friends. The four of them got into the car, Uri behind the wheel. The engine roared to life and the worn tires spit out gravel before the treads finally gained purchase and the car tore out of the yard.

A couple horses lifted their heads and snorted in protest. Jake watched the red taillights disappear into the dark night.

Jake wondered if his father had been this rebellious before he convinced Jake's mother to pack it up and leave everything that she'd ever known for a life on the outside.

Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he hunched his shoulders and strolled slowly to his truck. The sweet, dry scent of corn reached his nose, making him feel nostalgic for a life he had never known. Maybe it was simply because it was in his roots. His genes. Would studying the Amish and teaching a new group of students an Intro to the Amish course each semester ever satisfy his need to connect with his ancestors?

“Whoa!” An Amish boy hollered to his horse as he tugged on the reins, quickly swerving around a distracted Jake.

Jake jumped out of the way and waved a hand in apology.

The buggy came to a stop in the gravel lot. “Hey, Professor, if you're not careful, you'll end up in one of those research papers of yours. How the Professor Got Run Over by an Amish buggy.”

Jake rolled his eyes and laughed. “I'll pay more attention next time.”

“It's best that you do.” The young man hopped off his buggy and walked around to tend to his horse.

Jake nodded and strode to his truck. He feared he had ticked off a few of his research subjects tonight. His gut told him that was the least of his concerns.

* * *

After church service Rebecca had spent the day visiting her brother, Mark, and his family at their farm about a mile from her home. She always had a hard time around her brother, his wife and their five children.
That
was supposed to be her life, too.

She had never anticipated leading the life she did.

Rebecca had spent longer than she had planned at Mark and Gloria's house because her daughters were enjoying the company of their cousins. She hated to pull them away too soon. It warmed her heart to see them laughing, carefree...belonging.

After the girls climbed into the buggy, Rebecca wrapped a buggy blanket around Katie, then helped Grace pull hers up around her shoulders. Her youngest smiled and shuddered, her breath turned into a puff of white. “It's too cold. Can't we sleep at
Aenti
Gloria's house tonight?”

“You have school tomorrow.”

Her sister-in-law, Gloria, danced on the balls of her feet, white breath forming on a sigh. “Oh, let them stay. We can get them to school in the morning with my children. What's two more?”

Rebecca hesitated. “You've been too kind to me. They've been here much too often.” It would be easier to leave the girls here in her brother's warm house. She felt her resolve slipping.

“The cousins enjoy each other. Let them stay,” Gloria said.

“
Yah
, you're right.” Rebecca turned to her daughters. “Girls, would you both like to stay?”

Katie and Grace scrambled out of the back of the buggy and jumped one at a time onto the ground while holding Rebecca's hand. She planted a kiss on each of their foreheads. “Now mind your
aenti
Gloria.” She lifted her gaze to her sister-in-law. “I'll pick them up after my shift at the diner tomorrow evening?”

“Perfect.” Gloria turned around and, with a hand to each of their backs, she guided Rebecca's daughters into the warm, cozy house.

Something about watching her daughters walk away made a cloak of sadness settle around her shoulders. She let out another breath and climbed into the buggy. A stiff wind whipped up, refocusing her attention to the mile-long journey. Alone in the dark.

Rebecca had been foolish to stay late. She flicked her wrists and Buttercup lurched forward. She'd be home in no time, she reassured herself.

Buttercup trotted down the country road. The lampposts cast lonely rings of light every couple hundred feet or so. If Rebecca wasn't careful she would doze off behind the reins. Buttercup had traveled this road enough; she could easily make it back to the farm without much guidance from her.

Rebecca didn't care for traveling at night, but it did have one advantage—there weren't many cars on the road.

As if to prove her wrong, a car crested the hill and whizzed past her traveling in the opposite direction. That was always preferable to cars driving too close on the same side of the road.

With the car gone, Rebecca let her mind drift to what she'd do when she got home. Without the girls at the house, it would be lonely. Maybe she'd go into Samuel's room while he was at the Sunday-night singing. She hated to snoop, but she had been shocked to see his stash of electronics. Radio. Laptop. And she knew he had a cell phone. She feared she had already lost him and that his presence at the house was merely out of necessity because he had nowhere else to go.

She wondered how Willard would have reined in his son, then she quickly dismissed the thought. A year had passed since his arrest and she still shuddered at the thought of her husband's cruelty.

Buttercup neighed and Rebecca's attention snapped back to the road. Sensing a car coming up behind them before Rebecca did, the horse instinctively pulled over closer to the edge of the road into the buggy lane. The car sped past them, too close. Rebecca squinted after the red taillights, suspecting it was the same car she had seen going in the other direction only moments before. Her nerves buzzed. A young woman out here alone on a backcountry road was vulnerable.

Stories of buggies colliding with cars made the local paper all the time. She gave the reins a gentle flick and Buttercup picked up her pace.

I'm almost home. Dear Lord, keep me safe.

When the bright red brake lights of the car came on, the tips of her fingers tingled as she tightened her grip on the straps. She made a noise with her lips and snapped the reins. The horse picked up her trot.

The car slowed and made a wide U-turn, its wheels crunching on the berm of the road. Rebecca shielded her eyes against the bright headlights as the car raced back in her direction. A knot twisted her insides, much like it had every time Willard returned home and she'd feared his mood, his outbursts, his angry demands.

Let them drive by. Please, let them drive by.

She flicked the reins again, her eyes locked on the approaching car. At the last minute, the driver swerved into her lane, playing a deadly game of chicken.

Buttercup spooked and took off like a shot, veering closer to the ditch. The buggy's wheel dipped into the deep ditch lining the country road. The sharp motion tossed Rebecca out of her buggy.

A yelp escaped her lips.

It seemed like an eternity as she flew through the air. She landed on her side with an oomph. Her hip and shoulder sank into a few inches of cold, mucky water. Panic made a flush of goose bumps race across her skin. She groaned and struggled to her feet, the wet folds of her dress weighing her down.

Buttercup stopped a ways down the road and neighed his protest. Somehow the buggy had stayed out of the ditch and rested on the side of the road, seemingly no worse for wear.

Thank you, Lord.

Searching her dark surroundings, Rebecca paused and listened. The hum of the vehicle grew distant. Relief, mixed with fear and anger, created a steady pounding behind her eyes. She planted her hands on the cold, hard-packed dirt on the edge of the ditch.

She wiggled her toes in her wet boots.

She struggled to pull herself up but couldn't gain traction. She feared whoever stumbled across her in the light of day would find her, feet frozen in the icy water.