Love Inspired Suspense September 2015 #1 Read online

  Jake was considering joining the Amish community.

  “I have a feeling it’s not only Samuel who’s distracting you.” Flo never missed anything.

  “Jake…” She lifted her eyes to meet Flo’s. The older woman nodded in understanding.

  Rebecca held up her hand to stop her friend before she made a comment that would make her blush. “I have to tell you because you’re the only one I can trust not to judge me.”

  Flo rested her hip against the counter and slipped her hands into her apron. “What is it, honey?”

  “Jake told me he’s thinking about joining the Amish.”

  Her pale eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

  Rebecca nodded slowly, feeling the world close in on her. Heat gathered around her face and she tugged on the collar of her dress.

  “Do people do that? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of an outsider joining the Amish community. I usually hear about the heartache when one of the Amish youth runs away.” Flo stood straighter, her eyes unfocused as if lost in thought. “Can people do that?”

  “It’s highly unusual, but it has been done.”

  A light came into Flo’s eyes and she lifted her hands and covered her mouth. “Oh dear, he’s doing it so he can be with you, isn’t he?”

  Rebecca bowed her head and shook it. “He must make the decision on his own for reasons more than me.” Her mind flashed back to how comfortable Jake seemed working on the farm. His mention of feeling at peace. She pressed her lips together and sighed. “Neh, he can’t join the Amish community just because of me.”

  With her index finger, Flo lifted Rebecca’s chin to force her to meet her gaze. “You are worth it. Don’t underestimate yourself.”

  Rebecca shook her head again, this time more adamantly. “He should do it because he wants to embrace the Amish ways. No other reason.”

  “Of course, of course,” Flo agreed, “but you would be a nice bonus.”

  Rebecca was surprised to hear a giggle escape her lips. “You’re the best part of this job. I’m grateful for your friendship.”

  Flo made a dramatic show of looking around the diner. “That’s high praise,” she said, her words dripping with sarcasm. Then her face grew serious and she pulled Rebecca’s hands into hers. “It’s time you found happiness.”

  “It’s not the—”

  “—Amish way,” Flo finished her sentence. “I truly don’t think God would mind if you found happiness.”

  With Flo’s words swirling around her head, Rebecca picked up more silverware and set it down on the napkin.

  Could she and Jake find happiness together?

  The empty space inside her no longer seemed so empty. Dare she hope?

  The jangling bell on the door signaled the arrival of a few customers coming in for an early breakfast.

  “Have a seat wherever you’d like,” Flo hollered to them.

  The older woman grabbed the coffee carafe. “I’ll get this table.”

  “Thanks.” Rebecca’s gratitude was short-lived. The sheriff walked through the door with his keen focus solely on her.

  Rebecca filled a mug with coffee. Black. Just how the sheriff liked it. He strolled over to the counter and slipped onto the stool in front of the mug. “Morning, Rebecca. Thanks for the coffee.”

  “Morning, Sheriff Maxwell.”

  He took a sip, studying her over the rim. “Have you recovered from last night?”

  “I’m fine. No worse for the wear, I suppose. But it’ll take some work to get the mud out of my dress.” She smiled. “Did you have a chance to talk to the Yoder boys?” Butterflies flitted in her stomach as she waited for the sheriff’s response.

  “Yeah. I met Jake at their house. Mr. Yoder assured us that both boys had been home all day doing chores on the farm. At the approximate time of the incident, Mrs. Yoder said the family was gathered for dinner.”

  A sinking feeling weighed on Rebecca. “I see.”

  “There’s always a chance they’re mistaken,” the sheriff said, setting his spoon on the napkin. A brown spot grew where he had placed it.

  “Mr. And Mrs. Yoder are good people. I don’t believe they’d lie.” Outside the window, the weather was dark and dreary, like her mood.

  Flo brushed past her and pinned her order to the wheel above the window leading into the kitchen. “Morning, Sheriff Maxwell. Hungry for some breakfast? Pancakes?”

  The sheriff took another sip of his coffee, then pushed away from the counter and stood. “No, thanks. I have to get on the road.”

  He turned to Rebecca. “Contact me if you need anything. Please.” She must have been wearing a look of concern because the sheriff paused. “Hannah would want you to reach out. To me. To her. She loves you and doesn’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Thank you.” Rebecca slowly blinked. “Have a good day, Sheriff.”

  Flo picked up a small stack of plastic menus and pressed them into Rebecca’s hands. “Next table’s yours.”

  “Thanks.” Rebecca started to walk away when she heard Flo mumble.

  “Professor Burke would look great in suspenders and a straw hat.”

  Rebecca whirled around and playfully whacked her friend with a menu. “Shush.”

  “You shush.” Flo reached out and squeezed Rebecca’s hand. “It’s time things turned around for you.”

  *

  “Go ahead, I’ll lock up,” Rebecca said to Flo at the end of their shift a few days later. She had sent her girls to stay overnight at Mark and Gloria’s house. Even though Rebecca hated to have her daughters away at night, she knew playing with their cousins afforded a wonderful distraction. They needed a stable home environment.

  Jake’s conversation came to mind again. The girls could use a father in their lives. A loving father.

  Neh, neh, neh. If Jake decided to become Amish, it had to be for the right reasons.

  “No, no, I’ll stay and help.” Flo dumped the remainder of the coffee down the drain.

  “Go.” Rebecca scooted in next to her, took the carafe from her hand and set it on the counter. She’d wash it in a minute. “I know you wanted to get home to watch your TV program. Go.”

  “Ah, you say that like it’s a bad thing.” Flo tilted her head and gave Rebecca a sad smile. Rebecca didn’t know how to respond anymore. It seemed lately everyone watched her with an air of pity. At least when the tourists came to town in full force next summer, she could go back to playing her stereotypical Amish role. She could at least meet someone’s expectations.

  Met reallive Amish woman. Check.

  “Are your girls staying with their aunt and uncle again tonight?”

  Rebecca wiped the counter down. “Yah.” Even though she hated to admit it, she felt safer knowing they were with Mark and his family. Until she cleared Samuel’s name and found out who was growing marijuana on her farm, things wouldn’t feel safe there.

  She scrubbed the carafe a little more vigorously than necessary, trying to hold back her emotions.

  Flo gestured with her chin toward the last table. “Want me to tell him it’s time to pack it in?” she asked in a protective tone. “I don’t know why those college kids have to hog our tables to do their schoolwork when there’s a perfectly good library on campus, right?”

  Rebecca shrugged. She had only been on the local campus once, and after being attacked she didn’t plan on going back anytime soon.

  “The customer’s fine. I’ll give him a few more minutes while I clean up.”

  “As long as you’re sure.”

  Rebecca watched her friend remove her apron, drape it over her arm and slip out the front door, the bells clacking on the glass.

  Rebecca organized things to make startup easier for the first shift. She glanced up and the young man was still sitting there, his back to her, she supposed, to gain a better view out the window.

  She flicked off a few lights, figuring he’d take a hint without her having to ask him to leave. Confrontation had never been her strong
suit. She tidied up a few more things, then peeked into the dining room through the service window. The young man was no longer sitting in the corner booth. A hint of relief swept through her. Problem solved.

  Rebecca strode to the front door and turned the key in the lock. She paused a minute and stared over the darkened street. Her haunted expression stared back at her. Would her life ever calm down? Would she ever find the peace she once enjoyed living on an Amish farm? Before she’d married Willard. She longed for it, but she knew she had to be humble and trust in God’s plan.

  She set the keys on the edge of the counter when she realized she’d forgotten to empty the orange-handled decaf carafe sitting on the warmer in the far corner.

  A scraping sound—the sound of someone dragging keys across the counter—made her swing around. Her heart stopped at the strange expression on the young man’s face.

  “Hello, Mrs. Fisher.”

  “Hello…Tommy.” Jake’s assistant. Her gaze dropped to the keys in his hand. Her keys. “I didn’t realize you were still here.” She lifted a shaky hand to the corner booth. “I didn’t realize that was you in the booth.”

  “I was in the little boy’s room.”

  She held her hand out for her keys. “I’ll let you out.”

  Tommy pressed the keys between his palms and pulled them close to his chest. “You want me to leave?” His mocking tone sent terror racing through her veins.

  “Um, yes…” She drew her elbows in close to her sides. It’s Tommy. Jake’s assistant. He’s harmless. Dread tightened like a band around her lungs. “We’re closed for the night,” she said, a little more forcefully.

  Tommy pivoted to look out the front window, then turned back to her, a brazen expression on his face. “Shame. I have more studying to do.”

  “Where are your books?”

  He gestured with his head toward a backpack resting on the floor near a booth.

  “I’m sorry. The diner is closed.” Rebecca clasped her hands in front of her as she struggled to rein in her frantic emotions. Something was off.

  “I know.” Tommy made no effort to move toward the front door. “I’m not ready to leave.” He tossed the keys from one hand to the other; each time they landed in his hand with a loud jangle of metal.

  Rebecca wiped her sweat-slicked palms on her cotton skirt. She held out her hand again, determined to be more forceful. “I need my keys, please.”

  An oily smile slid across Tommy’s lips and he made no effort to offer her the keys.

  Rebecca forced a shaky smile, trying to hide her nerves. “I need the keys to unlock the door to let you out.”

  Tommy lifted the keys and tossed them well past her. Rebecca spun round. The keys crashed into a framed football jersey from a long-ago high school state championship team and clunked onto the ground.

  The words why are you doing this? froze on her lips as a cold chill swept over every inch of her skin.

  Rebecca ran around the counter to put a barrier between her and Tommy. She glanced over her shoulder to the kitchen, but the back door to the alley was locked and she needed the key to unlock it. Same went for the front door.

  Tommy slowly walked toward her. “I have good news and I have bad news. Which would you like first?”

  Rebecca shook her head in disbelief. “You need to leave. I have to close the diner,” she repeated.

  “Okay, I’ll give you the good news.” He dragged his hand across his mussed hair. “Samuel was telling the truth. He wasn’t involved with the drugs at all.” A light lit his eyes in a way that sent terror pumping through her veins. “I was the one who recruited your Amish farmhands into helping me grow marijuana on your land.”

  Rebecca stared at Tommy in disbelief, her vision narrowing and tiny dots dancing in her eyes.

  “Don’t you want to know the bad news?” His lips thinned into a line and he shook his head slowly. “You won’t be able to tell anyone because I’m going to kill you.”

  FIFTEEN

  Jake walked across campus to grab a bite to eat before heading home. The school kept the student union open late for hungry students. A half carton of expired milk and a mushy cucumber were probably the only things waiting for him in his refrigerator at home.

  When Jake reached the student union, he noticed the news station blaring on the wall TV. He slowed when he saw the news truck on a country road in front of a familiar home.

  The laughter of students at a nearby table dulled to a distant din. He moved closer to the television. Jake glanced around the mostly empty dining room. No one except the young woman reading a novel bothered to look up occasionally at the screen.

  “…As you may remember, this is the home of Willard Fisher, the Amish fanatic who killed his Amish neighbors to protect the Amish way of life. Now his son, Samuel Fisher, has been arrested for growing marijuana on this very land.”

  The well-groomed blonde newscaster angled her body and held out her hand to gesture to the land behind her.

  “The whole situation is ironic, Jim, considering his father killed to preserve the Amish ways, yet his own son has turned to what the Amish would call worldly ways.”

  Jake plowed his hand through his hair and sagged against the half wall that separated the TV area from the rest of the cafeteria.

  “Who alerted the news?” Jake muttered to himself.

  A well-coiffed man with shiny black hair filled the screen, a serious look on his face. “Have you been able to get a comment from his stepmother, Rebecca Fisher?”

  The screen split in two and the reporter appeared again, her fingers pressed to her earpiece. “No, Jim. Not yet. No one is home at the residence. We hope to catch Mrs. Fisher when she returns.” She smiled brightly and Jake’s stomach dropped at the ghoulishness of their voyeurism.

  “Excuse me,” an annoyed voice came from behind Jake.

  Jake glanced over his shoulder at a young woman craning her head to see around him. “Oh, sorry.”

  Jake checked his watch. It was getting late, but if he hurried, he could catch Rebecca at the diner before she went home for the night. He didn’t want her to get a camera in her face in her front yard.

  But more important, he wanted to be there for Rebecca. She might not want to admit it, but she was the closest thing to family that he had.

  *

  Tommy was behind the drugs!

  Rebecca’s pulse thrummed in her ears as she scrambled to find an escape. “Please, don’t hurt me. I have two young daughters. Without me, they’ll be orphans.”

  Rebecca clamped her jaw, trying to tamp down her rioting emotions. Willard’s constant criticism and yelling had taught her to hide her feelings behind a mask of calm. She had been successful most of the time. She had learned to be a good Amish wife to keep peace in the home. But she had failed her children miserably.

  “Go into the kitchen,” Tommy said, grabbing her arm.

  Using the backrest of the nearest stool to anchor herself, she shook her head. She wasn’t going into the kitchen where no one could see her from the street. “No.”

  Tommy pulled her arm and she held tightly onto the stool with the other. Craning her neck, Rebecca glanced toward the street and her panic spiked when she realized no one was out there. No one to save her. Her fingers felt numb. She’d have to figure a way out. On her own.

  For her daughters’ sakes. For Samuel’s. If she died, what would happen to them?

  A sense of calm and determination settled over her.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  Tommy grunted and peered around; the dark look in his eyes chipped away at her resolve.

  “Tell me why you’re doing this.”

  Tommy narrowed his gaze. “I wouldn’t expect an uneducated Amish woman to understand, especially one who was stupid enough to marry the biggest loser in Apple Creek.”

  Rebecca sucked in a gasp. Even though she had constantly said worse in her own mind, hearing someone say it out loud was like a punch to the gut.
r />   She hiked her chin, trying to muster a confidence she didn’t feel. “Willard made his own bad decisions. I had nothing to do with it.”

  Tommy leaned in closer. The stale smell of coffee on his breath assaulted her nose. “He lived with you, slept in your bed and you didn’t know what was going on?” He raised an eyebrow, a mocking glint lit his eyes.

  “I didn’t know what he was up to. I trusted him. Much like Professor Burke trusted you.”

  “Don’t try to manipulate me.”

  The walls swayed and Rebecca sent up a silent prayer. “You’ll go to jail for the rest of your life. You don’t want that.”

  Tommy lifted an eyebrow. “Your murder will be blamed on Samuel. Poor Samuel, the son of the evil Willard Fisher. Then maybe I can put some distance between me and this mess while I figure things out.”

  “Samuel will tell the police you were involved with the drugs. You won’t get away with it.”

  “Ha. Samuel doesn’t know I’m behind it. He only knows about the Yoder brothers. And I don’t suspect they’ll get involved. You know how the Amish feel about law enforcement, right? And they’d have to admit their guilt. Don’t see that happening. Besides, Samuel already confessed.” He laughed again.

  “Samuel’s not even in Apple Creek. No one will blame him for this.”

  “I’ll figure something out. I always do.”

  “No…” Rebecca’s vision tunneled and her knees grew weak. Tommy had obviously lost his mind.

  Dear Lord, help me. Give me wisdom. Let me get home to my family.

  Breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

  She closed her eyes briefly and Tommy came into focus. Obviously Tommy needed to be heard, otherwise he would have already hurt her. She had seen the same behavior in her husband. He liked to rant and rave and pace, forcing her to listen to his half-cocked theories. It was when she accidentally looked at him the wrong way or didn’t make dinner on time that he’d lash out. He’d belittle her. Point out all her shortcomings, real or imagined.

  She clung to the back of the stool tighter. “You’ve done well for yourself. Why did you get involved with drugs?” She had to keep him talking.

  Tommy angled his head, an unreadable expression on his face. A surge of adrenaline coursed through her. Had he sensed she was patronizing him?