Love Inspired Suspense September 2015 #1 Page 28

Uri turned to his father, a dark look in his eyes. “Dat, I have never lied to you. I was afraid to say anything for fear we’d be fired. Jonas and I know how much this family needs the extra money from our work as farmhands.”

  Mr. Yoder flinched.

  Uri bowed his head contritely. “Who are you going to believe? Me or Samuel, Willard Fisher’s son?”

  Rebecca stumbled backward and Jake grabbed her arm to steady her. “Keep calm,” he whispered close to her ear.

  Mr. Yoder ran his hand down his beard again. “The crops are on your farm, Rebecca. Don’t come here and accuse my boys of these things. They are gut boys.” Mr. Yoder hiked his chin. “I think it’s time you left.”

  Mr. Yoder stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door closed behind him, leaving his sons inside.

  “My son isn’t lying,” Rebecca said. “Your sons have taken advantage of my situation and used my land to grow marijuana.”

  Mr. Yoder pinched his lips together and shook his head. “I suggest you leave before I call the sheriff.”

  Jake squeezed Rebecca’s elbow. “Let’s go.”

  She yanked her elbow away. “Mr. Yoder,” she pleaded.

  Mr. Yoder stood his ground. “Sounds like a convenient excuse. How do you know Samuel’s not looking for a way out?” The anger flashed in the older man’s eyes.

  “Mem, I had nothing to do with those crops.”

  “I suggest you get your son under control.” Mr. Yoder paused a long few seconds. “My sons won’t be working on your farm any longer. It seems your family is a bad influence.” And with that, he shut the door on the conversation.

  With a firm hand to the small of her back, Jake led Rebecca to his truck. When Samuel didn’t follow, Jake called to him over his shoulder. “Let’s go.” Jake didn’t want any more trouble tonight that would require either him or the Yoders to call the sheriff. “We have to pick up your sisters.”

  Right now it was their word against Samuel’s, and after recent events, the sheriff might be more likely to believe the Yoders.

  *

  That night in bed, Rebecca tossed and turned, a million things going through her mind. What if Samuel was lying? What if he had been looking for a way out and decided to pin his mistake on the Yoders? What if he was growing the marijuana?

  Willard had committed murder under her watch and she’d had no idea.

  Rebecca rolled over and punched her pillow. She felt sick.

  After everything Willard had done to put her family in a bad light, how could she and Samuel convince anyone he was telling the truth? If he was telling the truth. Her family wasn’t exactly well respected in the Amish community.

  Feeling queasy, Rebecca propped up her pillows, hoping that would help. She took a deep breath.

  Nothing would help.

  Rebecca had hoped Samuel would confide in her once she put her daughters to bed, but he had retreated to his room and slammed the door.

  Nothing—yet everything—had changed.

  A tear slid down her cheek and plopped on the pillow. She felt as if her relationship with Samuel was beyond repair.

  Could she ever reach him now?

  Closing her eyes, she tried to relax and think of her blessings: Katie and Grace. Rebecca wanted to hold everyone she loved close. As if that could stop her world from spinning out of control.

  The fierce protectiveness she felt for her family was also reminiscent of the days after Willard’s arrest. Yet, after her husband had been arrested, Rebecca also had felt a strange sense of freedom, unlike she’d ever had.

  Had this freedom ruined Samuel?

  Rebecca pulled her quilt up to her chin and smoothed the fabric, running her fingers along the careful stitching she and her mother had done back when Rebecca still had dreams of a happy marriage and a quiet life in Apple Creek.

  Her life had turned out nothing like she had planned.

  No one planned to marry a murderer.

  Rebecca closed her eyes. Sweet, handsome Jake filled her mind. The professor. She didn’t know if she’d ever be able to call him anything else. She felt that she’d be breaching the social norms if she called him Jake.

  Jake. Jacob.

  Nervousness tingled across her skin. The professor had told her he’d be back tomorrow between the classes he taught at the university. They could plan their next steps then. He promised he wouldn’t call the sheriff, and she only prayed the Yoders didn’t either. It was unlikely; the Amish preferred to handle things on their own.

  A new surge of adrenaline made her restless. Rebecca tossed back the covers and swung her legs over the edge. She hated that she doubted her son. She closed her eyes and prayed for God’s guidance. And for help in believing in a young man she had grown to consider her son.

  Maybe her influence had come too late.

  Pacing the hardwood floor, she suddenly had the urge to do something. She could no longer lead a passive life waiting for her world to implode. Waiting for someone to help her. She had to help herself.

  Help her family.

  She pulled back the curtain on the window. A bright moon and a million stars dotted the night sky. Besides the barn and a few outbuildings, all she could see were the crops. Acres and acres of corn.

  And marijuana.

  Dressed in her nightclothes, she slipped into her young daughters’ bedroom and kissed each of them on the forehead, breathing in their fresh scent. Her daughters consistently brought her joy and she’d do whatever it took to protect them from further hurt.

  She passed Samuel’s closed door, lingering long enough to drag her fingers along the cool wood.

  Oh, Samuel, I wish you’d come to me a long time ago. Now I don’t know what to believe…

  The wood on the stairs creaked under her weight as she descended to the first floor, her hand gliding along the smooth banister, the one her children’s great-grandfather had carved. The rock solidness of her life, the one built on the foundation of her family’s Amish ancestors, was crumbling around her.

  Rebecca yanked her coat from the hook by the back door, slipped her bare feet into her cold boots and stepped out onto the back porch. The fall air smelled crisp. Fresh. Refreshing.

  She’d never be happy anywhere but here. On a farm. Close to God’s creation. The moonlight glowed brightly in the night sky, casting the crops in a white glow.

  Before she lost her nerve, she strode to the barn. She pulled back the heavy door and stepped inside, slivers of moonlight glinting in between the wood slats. Buttercup neighed at her intrusion before settling back in.

  Crossing to the back of the barn where Willard had kept his tools, she grabbed a sickle from its hook. She wondered if there was a better tool, but decided this would have to do. Growing up on a farm, she wasn’t unfamiliar with the tools, she just wasn’t as experienced with using them as her older brothers had been.

  Gripping the wood handle tightly in her right hand, she trudged toward the cornfields. Based on Samuel’s description, the evil drugs should be hidden in the far corner of the field where her property ended and a thick lot of trees started.

  Holding the sickle by her side, she held her left hand out to push aside the stalks as she strode deeper into the fields. The earth shifted under her footsteps, adding to her sense of unsteadiness. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the hoot-hoot-hoot of an owl.

  Goose bumps raced across her flesh. She slowed her pace and turned around, unsure if the sounds she heard were of her own making or if they were out of place.

  A giggle bubbled up. Out of place? There was nothing about this entire scene that made sense. Nerves implored her to go back home. Crawl into bed and cover her head. To never get out of bed again.

  “No, I’m going to do this,” she muttered. “I’m going to protect my family.”

  Tightening her grip on the sickle, she turned and walked forward. Her sense of hopelessness had been replaced by something else. Confidence. Assuredness. Determination.

  She could do something. Help S
amuel.

  Just as Samuel had said, tall bushy plants grew where the corn stopped. This must be the marijuana. Feeling their soft leaves, a hint of citrus tickled her nose. How dare the Yoder boys betray her trust and use her land to grow drugs.

  The tired, weary face of Mrs. King slammed into her memory. Poor Elmer had been high on drugs when he’d crashed his car into a tree.

  Rebecca feared she was going to be sick. She focused all her attention on calming breaths until her stomach settled.

  A new emotion, one she hadn’t allowed herself to feel when Willard was arrested, washed over her. Rage.

  She lifted the solid sickle and whacked at the thick stem of the unfamiliar plants. The sharp blade sliced through the stem, felling the plant. She lifted her hand again and again.

  Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

  The plants rustled as they fell.

  The muscles in her shoulders and arms began to ache. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she tossed the sickle aside. Hands planted on her hips, she studied her destruction. She had barely made a dent in the illegal crops.

  Rebecca pressed her lips together and lifted her eyes. The first hint of a new dawn touched the sky. She rolled her shoulders back, trying to ease the tension.

  A strangled cry sounded behind her. Slowly she turned and a dark figure advanced on her.

  “Samuel?”

  A scream got trapped in her throat. The figure lifted his hand.

  Rebecca lifted her arms to defend against the blow.

  She was no match.

  The pain on the top of her head was the last thing she remembered as her knees buckled and the earth rushed up to meet her.

  *

  Jake jumped into his truck as soon as he had gotten the phone call from Samuel. Rebecca’s son had woken up to his little sisters’ tears because they couldn’t find their mother.

  Jake exceeded the speed limit, the engine in his old truck straining to keep pace. He offered a prayer, the first he could remember since childhood, that Rebecca was safe. Perhaps Samuel had been lax in his search for his mother and she was safe. The knot twisted in his gut. Or had someone retaliated against her because of her inquiries?

  He shook his head. He couldn’t think the worst.

  Once he arrived at Rebecca’s home, he ran up to the porch. Samuel opened the door before Jake had a chance to knock.

  “Has your mom returned?”

  Samuel had his hand on Grace’s shoulder. Katie hung back, her face stained with tears.

  “No. I checked the barn, but I didn’t want to leave my sisters for too long. It’s unlike Mem to leave the girls without asking me to watch them. They’re only six and eight.”

  Jake turned and gazed out over the land. Sun peaked over the horizon. The promise of a beautiful new day was at odds with this horrible sense of foreboding.

  Really, she could be anywhere: the barn, the fields, or maybe she had gone out. But a tiny whisper in his brain grew louder by the second. Something’s happened to Rebecca!

  Jake clamped his jaw, not wanting to alarm the young girls. “When was the last time you saw your mother?”

  After they all came to the consensus that they hadn’t seen their mother since they had gone to bed last night, Jake told Samuel to stay inside the house with his little sisters while he went outside to look for her.

  “Maybe you missed her when you checked the barn earlier. Could she be milking a cow?”

  Katie, the older of the two girls, tilted her head and scrunched up her nose. “We don’t have a cow. Mem brings milk home from the market now. It’s easier. We have an icebox.”

  “Well, maybe she’s checking on Buttercup.”

  The younger of the two took a step forward, eager for an adventure. “Let me come with you. I like to give Buttercup carrots.”

  Jake reached out and touched the top of the young girl’s soft hair and smiled. “Later, okay.”

  Grace pouted and spun on her heels, her loose curls flying out behind her.

  “Stay here.” Jake locked gazes with Samuel. “I’ll be right back.”

  Jake jogged down the steps and toward the barn, calling Rebecca’s name. Disquiet crept into his bones and he worried he hadn’t done enough to keep Rebecca safe. He also began to wonder how he had allowed himself to become so involved with his Amish neighbors when his intent had been to learn about them, not become entangled in their lives.

  He supposed his mission was irrevocably intertwined.

  Jake wiped a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead.

  Where would she have gone?

  “I’m sick of doing nothing.” Rebecca’s words from last night pinged around his brain. “I’m tired of feeling hopeless. Of not being able to keep my family together.”

  Jake knew she wouldn’t hurt herself, but the worry kept resurfacing. He thought of his own father, who drank himself to death after Jake’s mother died. Some people couldn’t see past their own grief.

  Scrubbing a hand across his face, he had an inkling she might have gone in search of the marijuana crops. He jogged toward the cornstalks. To the far corner of the lot. To where Samuel had claimed the Yoder brothers had planted the marijuana.

  Something was drawing him there.

  Still calling her name, Jake ran through the stalks, the smell of earth and dried corn filling his nose. Then, suddenly the corn ended and a different kind of plant started.

  A rock solidified in his gut. It looked as if someone had been hacking away at the plants.

  “Rebecca?” he called again, the frantic whoosh of his pulse drowning out any possible answer.

  Jake took a few more cautious steps.

  “God, help me find her,” he finally muttered, the words feeling foreign on his lips. “Rebecca, where are you?”

  As Jake pushed through the plants, he heard a soft moan.

  He stopped, his heart pounding against his chest. “Rebecca?”

  He strained to hear. The moan came again. He spun around and ran to the pile of felled marijuana plants. He found Rebecca lying there, her face covered in blood.

  In a frenzy, he tossed aside the plants and knelt down beside a battered and bloodied Rebecca.

  Gingerly, he swept her hair out of her eyes, tugging it away from the dried blood. “Can you hear me?”

  Her eyes fluttered but didn’t open. She’s not dead. There’s hope. Thank you, God.

  Jake reached down and grabbed her hand and squeezed. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay.” With his other hand, he reached into his back pocket. “I’m going to call an ambulance.”

  EIGHT

  A persistent tugging near Rebecca’s forehead nudged her out of the blackness. She focused all her energy on opening her eyes, but they wouldn’t budge. A strong citrusy-grass smell clogged her nose.

  Why can’t I open my eyes?

  She craned her neck and a horrible pain sliced through her head. She tried to lift her hand to touch it, but her limbs didn’t want to cooperate.

  A familiar soothing voice threaded into her subconscious. I’m here… You’re going to be okay…

  She finally pried her eyes open a sliver and the line of light made her brain explode. Instinctively, she snapped her eyes shut again and groaned.

  A warm hand squeezed hers. “Take it easy. Don’t try to move. I’ve called for an ambulance.”

  Dread squirmed its way in to keep her fear and queasiness company.

  Rebecca’s mouth grew dry. “Neh…”

  “Don’t try to talk.”

  She shook her head slowly and immediately realized her mistake. She pressed her lips together against the nausea.

  “No ambulance,” she finally whispered, her voice raspy. “No police.”

  The professor dragged his warm thumb gently across her cheek. The small gesture provided comfort. She couldn’t remember what happened. One minute she was hacking away at the marijuana plants and then…

  Closing her eyes, flashes of memory assaulted her. Standing in the field admiring t
he first hint of early morning sky. Turning around. A dark shadow.

  Samuel?

  Her stomach revolted at the thought of her own son striking her.

  Neh, neh. Rebecca refused to believe that.

  She covered her mouth, as if she feared his name might slip past her lips.

  “What is it?” the professor said in a soothing voice. “Do you know who did this to you?”

  “Neh. Please…” She tried to sit up again and he touched her shoulder.

  “You have to wait for the ambulance. It’s not safe to move since I don’t know if anything’s broken.”

  “Don’t you understand?” Her voice came out raspy. “You can’t call an ambulance…the sheriff will come. The plants.”

  “Your well-being is more important,” the professor said.

  “Help me get to the house so the sheriff won’t see what’s back here.” Her brain hurt with the effort of every word.

  Kneeling over her, the professor shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” Anger and nausea competed for her attention.

  “I can’t risk it. I don’t know where you’re hurt.”

  Rebecca struggled to move into a seated position, and the professor seemed to capitulate by offering her a hand, steadying her. “Don’t try to stand.”

  Adrenaline surged in her veins. “Are the girls okay? Samuel?” She tried to push off the ground, but the palm of her hand sank into the earth. “I have to check on my family.”

  The professor touched her arm in a soothing gesture. “Everyone is okay. Samuel’s in the house with the girls. I told them to stay put.”

  Rebecca lifted her arm to touch her forehead, and the effort made her groan.

  “Did you see who attacked you?”

  Rebecca caught herself before she shook her poor head. “Neh.”

  “What were you doing out here?”

  She squinted up at the professor, trying to minimize the amount of light hitting her brain. “Destroying these crops.” She clawed at one of the discarded plants next to her.

  “In the middle of the night?” The protectiveness in his voice made her feel like she hadn’t felt in a long time.

  Too bad the professor was an Englisher.

  In the distance she heard a siren, and panic raced through her. “You have to tell the children I’m okay. They’ll worry when they see the ambulance.”