Authors: Nancy Mehl
Tags: #FIC042040, #FIC042060, #FIC053000, #Journalist—Missouri—Saint Louis—Fiction, #Broadcasting—Missouri—Saint Louis—Fiction, #Missing Persons—Fiction
Esther looked pleased. “They've certainly taken a shine to both of you. And don't worry about Zac. I doubt he'll wake up. Best thing he can do is get some rest.”
“Thank you, Esther. I'm so glad you were here to take care of him.” I reached out and hugged the small woman.
“I certainly love having you here,” she said when I released her.
“Zac and I are very grateful. We both feel at home.”
She reached up and patted my cheek. “You get some sleep too. Come on down in the morning when you feel like it. I'll wait on breakfast until you're up and around.”
“Thanks, but please don't go to any trouble. I'm good with toast and coffee.”
“Whatever you want. Good night.”
As she walked away, I suddenly remembered something. “Oh, and thank you for the fudge.”
Esther turned around and gave me an odd look. “Fudge? I'm not sure what you mean.”
“The box of fudge you put in my room.”
“Must have been someone else. It wasn't me. But if you want something sweet there's pie and cookies in the kitchen.”
I assured her I wasn't hungry and said good night. The reality of her response made my skin crawl. I quietly walked down the hall to Zac's room. His gentle snoring was the only sound I could hear. Clyde and Frances watched me from Zac's bed as I searched everywhere for the box of fudge. Even in the trash can.
It had disappeared.
“Contacting the police is a big step,” Reuben said.
I'd called him first thing after I got up. He came over and had breakfast with Esther and me. Now we sat out on the front porch in Esther's white rocking chairs, drinking coffee.
“Someone put that fudge in my room,” I said in a low voice. “Someone besides Esther. I gave it to Zac, and he got really sick.”
“But it could have been the stromboli.”
“Yes, that's true. But where did the fudge come from? And why would someone take the box?”
He took a sip of coffee. I could tell he was turning the situation over in his mind. “You've got to ask Zac about it.”
“I did, but he was still groggy. He doesn't remember eating the fudge. In fact, he doesn't remember much at all about last night.”
“Maybe you should ask him again when he's feeling better.”
“I will. So what do I do now?”
He shook his head. “I honestly don't know. All we have are suspicions, coincidences, and innuendos. Nothing solid. Nothing we could turn over to anyone in an official capacity.”
“I know. I'd mark all of this down as my overactive imagination if it wasn't for the box of fudge. That box didn't grow legs and walk out of Zac's room.”
“Maybe Esther forgot she gave them to you. She's getting older. Elderly people forget things.”
I snorted. “I'm sorry. You've met Esther. I wish I was that sharp.”
Reuben sighed. “You're right. I'm just trying to make sense of all this. I'm having trouble believing someone snuck into Esther's and left poisoned fudge in your room. They'd be taking a huge chance of getting caught. How could they be sure you'd eat it? And to be honest, I can't think of one single person in Sanctuary capable of such an act.”
“People aren't always who they seem to be, you know. I've interviewed a lot of people who were sure their friend could never murder anyone or their employee wouldn't steal from them. People hide behind masks.”
“I know that. But Sanctuary is . . . different.”
I wasn't going to argue with him. Frankly, I understood how he felt. But towns were made up of human beings, and I knew from experience that most human beings have secrets.
“I called Randi this morning,” Reuben said. “August is gone.”
I frowned at him. “What do you mean . . . gone?”
“Gone. Randi checked out his apartment. His clothes are missing. He packed up and left.”
“Does he have a car?”
“He used to have a truck, but I think he got rid of it. The Greyhound bus stops in Barnes. All he had to do was find a way to get there. He could be anywhere by now.”
I stood up. “This gets crazier all the time.”
“You think August put that fudge in your room, don't you?”
“It's the only thing that makes sense. I'm pretty sure he sent me those articles, and it's possible he also wrote the threatening note Zac found the first night we arrived. His behavior toward me has been strange ever since I got here.”
“He would have had to sneak into Esther's, find your room, and leave the fudge without being seen. How would he know which room was yours?”
I shrugged. “It wouldn't be hard to figure out. A quick look around would make it clear which room was mine.”
“Still, it's just so risky.”
“I know. You said that earlier. But you people don't believe in locked doors. He could have easily done it while we were gone yesterday. And even if Esther was home, she doesn't hear very well. She could have been taking a nap.”
“That's true.” He got up from his rocker and stood next to me. “But I have to wonder why he'd do that, Wynter. Why would he send you those articles, wanting you to investigate the kidnappings, and then try to harm you? And even if he did leave the fudge, for some reason I can't fathom, why skip town before he knows if his plan worked? It doesn't make sense. I don't think August is responsible for this. He might have sent the clippings, but that's it.”
“Maybe he wanted me to check into the kidnappings from St. Louis, not here. Perhaps the fudge was supposed to make me sick so I'd go home.”
“I don't know. Still doesn't sound right. Besides, it appears that he left early yesterday. You found the box last night.”
“He could have put the fudge in my room while we were in church.”
“You went back to Esther's to change clothes after the service. Did you notice the box then?”
“No, but it could have been there. Maybe I missed it. I was in a hurry.”
“Maybe.” He drained the rest of the coffee. “Look, why don't you put off talking to people this morning about your story? You can easily do it later today or tomorrow. Zac's going to be out of action for at least a couple of days. Why don't we drive over to Samuel's farm and see if the Fishers are there?”
“You can't call them?”
“I thought about it, but I couldn't come up with a reason that wouldn't spook them. The last thing we want is for them to leave. For now, I think it would be best if we just drove out there. They probably won't like us showing up unannounced, but we need to find out if Nathan and his family are there without tipping them off.”
“What excuse are you going to give them for our visit? I mean, if the Fishers aren't there?”
Reuben shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe I'll tell them the truth.”
“But wouldn't they contact Nathan and tell him? We might lose them for good.”
Reuben shook his head. “We're going to have to wing it, Wynter. I guess if I have to, I can tell them we had car trouble and need to use their phone.”
“Okay, but let me see how Zac's doing first. And I need to call my boss. I'm hoping I can get us more time without tipping him off as to where we are.”
Reuben held out his hand. “Hand me your cup. I'll give it to Esther while you take care of these other things.”
I'd just given him my coffee cup when I noticed a familiar car coming down the street. It took a moment for me to accept
what I was seeing. My father drove up in front of Esther's house and parked.
“Do you know this guy?” Reuben asked.
“It's my father. I can't imagine what he's doing here.”
We stared at each other through his windshield as if we were locked in some kind of weird battle of wills. Finally Dad opened his car door and stepped out.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
As he came up to the porch, I was shocked by the pallor of his skin and the circles under his eyes. He looked almost exactly the way Zac had last night.
“I've got to talk to you, Emily.” He looked at Reuben and frowned. “Alone. And right now.”
“I don't understand. Whyâ?”
“I'm not going to stand outside and discuss this,” he retorted. “Where can we go so we can be alone?”
“Is Mom okay?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized my father wouldn't have any idea about my mother's welfare. It was just a knee-jerk reaction. “What's this about, Dad?”
For a moment, my father seemed to sway as if he were on the verge of fainting. His appearance and attitude caused my chest to tighten with fear. Could it have something to do with Ryan? Had he been found? Was he dead?
“You and your father talk inside,” Reuben said. “I'll wait for you at the café. We'll leave when you're done.”
“I don't know . . .”
Reuben took my arm. “This seems important, Wynter.”
“Okay, but I want you to stay.”
“No,” my dad said with force. “This is family business. Between you and me.”
Anger rose inside me. “You have
family
business, Dad? I find that funny, since family doesn't seem to mean much to you.”
“Please, Emily . . .”
“No. Reuben is my friend. He knows all about Ryan, and I want him with me. I feel closer to him than I do to you.”
“If it makes any difference, sir,” Reuben said, “nothing you say will be repeated to anyone else. Nor will I interfere in any way with your discussion.”
My father looked as if he wanted to argue, but suddenly the fight seemed to go out of him. “Whatever. I don't care anymore.”
“Why don't we go inside?” Reuben said, holding open the front door.
My father walked slowly up the porch stairs and followed Reuben into Esther's living room. She came out of the kitchen and looked surprised to see someone else with us.
I quickly introduced her to my father and then asked if we could have some time alone.
“Of course, dear,” she said. “I was on my way up to see how Zac's feeling today. You take your time. I'll stay upstairs until you're finished.” She offered us a sweet smile. “Can I get anyone something to drink or eat?”
“Thanks, Esther. If we need anything, we'll get it,” Reuben said.
She nodded. “Coffee's still on. Just took some turnovers out of the oven. You all help yourself.”
I noticed my father staring at her, taking in her simple clothing. As far as I knew, he'd never known any Amish or Mennonite people.
“Thank you, Mrs. Lapp,” he said. “I'm sorry to put you out.”
“No trouble at all. Wynter is such a blessing to me. And please, call me Esther.”
“Thank you, Esther.”
My dad's charm was still intact, but he'd toned it down. I was grateful. His phony persona would have been especially embarrassing in front of the elderly Mennonite woman.
We waited until Esther disappeared up the stairs. Then I sat down on the couch with Reuben. Dad sat in the rocking chair next to us. He looked as if he'd aged ten years in the last twenty-four hours. I'd had so much hope that I'd finally found Ryan. If Dad was here to tell me they'd discovered his body, it would crush me. I was grateful Reuben was by my side.
“What's wrong with Zac?” Dad asked.
I explained that he was ill and it was probably food poisoning.
“I'm sorry to hear that.”
“I don't think you're here to talk about Zac.”
“You're right.” He took a deep breath. “This . . . this is very difficult for me to say.”
“Does it have something to do with Ryan?” My voice shook, but I didn't care.
He shrugged. “I don't know. That's the problem. All these years, I've been certain that what happened to your brother had nothing to do with what I did. But now . . .” He stared at me with tears in his eyes. “Where is this boy who looks so much like my son?”
“We're not sure. Reuben and I were on our way to find him when you got here. His family suddenly left town.”
Dad ran his hand through his hair. “You . . . you can't let them get away. It's possible this young man could be your brother.”
“But you always said he was dead.”
“And I was convinced of that. Until last night.”
“What are you talking about?”
My father stood up and paced back and forth in front of me. Reuben and I waited in silence until he sat down again.
“I had no plans to ever tell you this, and I certainly never wanted your mother to know. But the picture of that boyâ”
“Dad, you're scaring me. What's going on?”
He stared down at the floor for several seconds, and then took a deep breath. When he finally looked up, I was shocked by his expression. My father was afraid. Reuben reached over and took my hand, as if he knew something awful was coming. I felt it too.
“As you know, the night you were born, your mother and I couldn't make it to the hospital in St. Louis because of a major winter storm. We only got as far as a small rural hospital about two miles from our house.”
“I don't understand. What does this have to do with Ryan?”
“Please, Emily. Don't interrupt me. This is hard enough.” His eyes darted toward the front door, and for a moment, I wondered if he planned to suddenly run out like he had at the restaurant.
“When we got to the hospital, there were only a few people there. Just one nurse in obstetrics. The storm had closed roads all around, and no one could make it through.” He took another deep breath and blew it out slowly. “We were worried at first, but the nurse assured us that she could deliver our baby without any problem. There was another expectant mother there. She and her boyfriend had made it to the hospital minutes before the storm hit.”
I turned to stare at Reuben. Had my father lost his mind? Why were we talking about something that happened years before Ryan was even born?
“Your mother had a terrible time, Emily. It wasn't the nurse's
fault. She did everything she could. When our baby was born, she was blue and not breathing. The nurse rushed her into another room to try to help her breathe.”
“What do you mean?” My voice came out in a whisper, but I couldn't seem to speak any louder. I wasn't certain anyone could hear me.
“Our baby died, Emily. But the other baby, also a little girl, was born healthy. The nurse told me the parents didn't plan to keep her. They were going to put her up for adoption. That's when we . . . we came up with a plan. At the time it seemed so right. So perfect. We would take the healthy baby, and your mother would never know the truth. She wasn't emotionally strong, you know. There had been . . . problems. I was afraid of what would happen to her if she knew her baby had died.” He turned to look at me, his face void of emotion. “We were doing well financially. My company was growing. So I talked to the parents, offered them fifty thousand dollars for their child, which they snapped up. I also gave the nurse a large sum of money, although she didn't ask for it. We took the other baby to your mother's room and told her she was doing just fine. When the doctor finally arrived, the nurse told him about the baby who died and presented the living baby as ours. The doctor didn't question it.”