Deadly Echoes (3 page)

To say I was shocked was an understatement. This friendly, quiet, unassuming man had pointed a gun at someone? “But you lived as a Conservative Mennonite before you came here.”

“Well, I looked like a Mennonite, and I went to a conservative church, but obviously I wasn't living by all the principles.”

“Can I ask why you wanted to shoot that man?”

“Yes, you may. I was afraid he was going to kill the woman I loved. I raised my gun to protect her.”

“Did she live?”

“Yes. Someone else took the shot before I did.”

“So someone else saved her life?”

He nodded.

“Are you grateful to that person for protecting her?”

“I'm grateful she lived, but I'm also glad her attacker survived. If I'd shot him, I believe I would have killed him.” He sighed. “Believe me, when I was caught up in that moment, wounding him was not my intention. I still have to face that every day. Don't get me wrong. I know I'm forgiven. I don't feel guilty anymore, but that incident showed me what I'm capable of. It forced me to take a hard look at myself. In the end, I decided I had to start trusting God to protect me and those I love.”

“You said you loved that woman, yet you're still single.”

He nodded again. “Yes. She married someone else.”

“But . . . but you were willing to kill to protect her. Why isn't she with you?” I suddenly realized how personal my question was. “I'm sorry, Pastor,” I said quickly. “That's none of my business.”

He smiled. “It's all right, Sarah. I don't mind. She married a man who would have died before going against what he believed. I wasn't as strong as he was . . . then. But I believe I am now.”

“What does your story have to do with me?”

“It has to do with making wrong choices for the right reasons. In the next few weeks, you might begin to feel incredible rage toward the person who killed your sister. With your past,
there could still be unresolved feelings about your parents. I hope you'll deal with those feelings honestly and not keep them locked inside. You and Cicely will need to heal. Just remember, exposing a wound to the air brings healing faster than covering it up.” He stood up. “Look, I've taken enough of your time. But please consider what I've said. Let God bring justice. You work on restoration—and forgiveness. It will be very important in the upcoming days.”

“I'll think about it, Pastor,” I said softly. “Maybe there is some unresolved anger inside me because I've lost so much.”

Jonathon came over and put his hand on my shoulder. “God's in the healing business, Sarah. Just rest your burden on His shoulders. He's willing to carry it.”

“I'll try. Thank you.”

Jonathon smiled. “I believe some of the women in town will be bringing food by. Both churches are getting together to help.”

Fresh tears stung my eyes. “That's so nice.”

“People want to let you know you're loved. They truly care about you.”

As if someone were listening to our conversation, the doorbell rang.

“I'll walk you to the door,” Jonathon said. “I need to get back to the church.”

I nodded and we both headed toward the door as the bell rang again. Janet came into the room from the kitchen.

“It's okay,” I told her. “I'm already on the way.”

I swung the door open and found Jeremiah standing there, his eyes wide. He looked back and forth between Jonathon and me.

“I . . . I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you,” he said, staring at me. “I . . . I just wanted to tell you . . . I mean, I'm sorry about your sister. My mother is bringing a casserole by later.”

Jonathon greeted Jeremiah and then said good-bye to both of us. I waited until he'd walked down the steps before addressing Jeremiah.

“That's so considerate of your mother,” I said. “Please tell her how much I appreciate it.” I pointed toward the living room. “Would you like to come in?”

He shook his head. “No. Mama said not to keep you. We were over at the post office, and Mr. Bakker said you had mail. He let me bring it to you so you wouldn't have to go over and pick it up.”

He handed me the stack of mail in his hand, and I thanked him. Before I could say anything else, he turned and almost ran down the steps.

I closed the door and leaned against it, praying that no one else would visit today. I needed some time to myself. For some reason my legs felt like rubber.

Janet came into the room and saw me. “Sarah, you're exhausted. Come here and sit down on the couch. I'll make you another cup of tea.”

“Thank you.” I managed a small smile. “You'd better start clearing out space in the refrigerator and freezer. I understand the women of Sanctuary have taken to their stoves.”

“Oh, for land's sake,” Janet said. “We're going to be drowning in fried chicken and strudel.”

As she hurried off to prepare her kitchen for the onslaught, I plopped down on the couch. Immediately Murphy jumped up next to me. I stroked the golden retriever's soft fur and then began to riffle through the mail. When I read the return address on one of the envelopes, disbelief flooded my body like an electric shock, and I cried out for Janet. She came running in from the kitchen, her eyes round with alarm.

“What in the world?” she said when she saw me. “You're as white as a ghost.”

I held out the envelope. “It . . . it's a letter. From Hannah.”

“What?” Janet took the envelope from me and stared at the postmark. “It was sent Priority Mail yesterday. Oh my goodness.” She started to hand it back to me, but I waved it away.

“No. Will you read it? Please? I . . . I can't—” A sob cut off the rest of my sentence.

Janet sat down and slowly opened the envelope. Then she pulled out the folded paper inside. “Honey, are you sure you want me to read this?” she asked.

I could only nod.

She put the envelope down on the coffee table and opened the letter. Then she took a deep breath and began to read:

“Dearest Sarah,

This past year has been the best year of my life. Finding you again was the fulfillment of a long-held dream. Reuniting with my sister is one of the greatest blessings I've ever had. No matter what happens in the future, I want you to know that I always loved you. And I always believed God would bring us together again.

I had to make sure you knew this because of what I'm preparing to do. Cicely and I are going away. Right now I'm not sure if I'll ever see you again. I'll try to contact you, but if I don't, it's only because I don't want to put you in harm's way. Please don't worry about us. I'm taking us someplace safe. Someplace where no one will find us.

Our past has always haunted me, Sarah. Knowing that the people who killed our parents got away with it has never left me. I know you don't really want to hear this,
but I have to explain so you won't think my leaving means I don't love you. My search for the truth made me stick my nose in places I shouldn't have. And now it's blown up in my face. Random thieves didn't murder Mom and Dad, Sarah. It was something else. Someone else. I know who it was, but I can't tell you. You might make the same mistake I did. It's just too dangerous. The conspiracy is huge. Much bigger than I realized. Too big for either one of us to handle.

Don't look for us, Sarah. I mean it. You will be putting all of us in terrible danger if you do. Leave it alone. Please. Just pray for Cicely and me.

Sarah, I need you to promise me something else. Never search for Cicely's father or look too closely at my past. I can't stress enough how important this is. Don't take this warning lightly. If you love me, if you love Cicely, you'll do as I ask.

I think I can get us out of here safely, but if anything goes wrong, if something happens to me, please take care of my daughter. As I already told you, you're the only person I trust to raise her the right way. We may have had tough childhoods, but somehow through it all, you retained your goodness and your sweet spirit. I know you'll pass that on to Cicely and you'll help her to become all God has created her to be. I'm counting on you, Sarah. I know you won't let me down. I've made out a will stating that you are to be Cicely's guardian. My attorney, David Rose, has a copy. His office is on 2nd Street in downtown Kansas City. His number is in the phone book. He doesn't know anything about my plans to leave Kansas City, so asking him where I am would be pointless.

After you read this, please destroy this note. No one else is to ever see it. Especially Cicely. Raise her up with joy and love, the way Mom and Dad raised us. They were such good people, Sarah. I want you to always remember that what happened to them wasn't their fault.

I really love you, Sarah. Please don't be sad. We've been apart before, but we will never lose each other. We'll be together again, either in this life or in the next. And someday we'll be reunited with Mom and Dad. What a great reunion we will have!

I will love you forever.

Remember me,
Hannah”

Janet dropped the letter as if it were hot. “Oh, Sarah. What are we going to do?”

All I could do was shake my head and cry.

Two days later, I was packing to go to Kansas City. The police wanted to interview me before I picked up Cicely. A copy of Hannah's will had been sent to DCF, and it cleared the way for me to take her home. Even though I felt emotionally and physically drained, I kept pushing forward. There wasn't any choice. Cicely needed me. It was a little after seven-thirty in the morning when the phone rang. It was Paul.

“If you don't mind, I'd like to meet you at The Whistle Stop for breakfast.”

“I'm not sure I have the time.”

“It . . . it's very important. Please, Sarah.”

I was quiet for a moment, trying to figure out if I could squeeze Paul in and still get on the road with plenty of time to get to the police station for the interview. He sounded so insistent I agreed to meet him at nine. As I hung up, I wondered what he could possibly want to talk about. At least this would give me the opportunity to let him know about Hannah's letter. Janet and I hadn't told anyone else. To be honest, we weren't sure what to do about it. Hannah had warned me about getting involved
in what had happened to her, but how could I let it drop? Was she really killed because she'd looked into our parents' deaths? Were the two cases related? If they were, what did that mean? I wanted answers, but I had serious doubts about Hannah's conclusion. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't come up with any reason someone would wait almost twenty years after killing our parents to murder my sister. It didn't make any sense. Maybe the letter was just another sign of the fixation that had taken over Hannah's life. Because of that very real possibility, I had doubts about sharing it with the police. What if Cicely found out about it? It could frighten her unnecessarily.

I let Janet know I'd be gone for a while. Although she wouldn't admit it, I was convinced she'd been staying home in case I needed her. I appreciated it, but I knew how busy she was at the Sanctuary Animal Clinic. There were a lot of animals in Sanctuary. Not just pets but also many larger animals from nearby farms. Several other small towns in our area were without veterinarians, so they relied on Janet to help them. The woman who used to run the clinic had been sent to prison months earlier. Janet had been her helper, but since Rae's arrest, Janet had taken over the duties full time. Even though she loved animals, I knew she wasn't thrilled to be working so many hours.

I changed clothes three times. Maybe it was vain and silly, but for some reason I wanted to look nice for Paul. “This is just stupid. Paul Gleason isn't the least bit interested in you,” I said to my reflection after finally picking out black slacks and a teal sweater that Janet had given me for Christmas. I usually wore subtle colors, especially at school. This was a daring choice for me, but Janet was right. The sweater looked nice with my red hair. Even though I'd tried to hide my freckles under some foundation and powder, they still peeked through. I'd never
come close to being as pretty as Hannah, but I had to admit I didn't look half bad by the time I finished.

I decided to walk to The Whistle Stop, since it was only a few blocks away. It was cold outside so I bundled up. I actually found the winter temperatures invigorating. By the time I reached the restaurant, Paul's cruiser was already parked outside. I went in and found him sitting at a table in the corner. As I started toward him, someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to find Mary Gessner, the café owner, standing behind me.

“I'm so glad to see you, Sarah,” she said. “Rosey and I are praying for you.”

Although Sanctuary was full of good people, Mary and her daughter were special to me. Mary's gentle and loving nature not only drew people to her, but she was also known for her love of animals. Sanctuary's title applied to all of its residents, including all the unwanted pets that had been dumped off in the country by unfeeling, heartless owners. Mary never met an animal she didn't love. Her house was a happy, noisy, exuberant zoo, full of dogs and cats. From time to time, other animals had also taken up residence with her. Injured rabbits, squirrels, raccoons, deer, birds, frogs, and even possums had spent time recovering in her makeshift animal hospital. Janet used Mary as a foster home for abandoned animals that needed a place to live until they could be adopted. Somehow, Mary and Janet always found homes for their domesticated animal friends, while the injured wild animals were treated and released when they were well.

“Thank you so much,” I said, giving her a hug. “It means more than I can say to know I have friends who are praying for me and for Cicely.”

“You certainly have that. And if you need anything, please just let us know.”

“I will. Right now, one of your fabulous breakfasts will certainly make me feel better.”

She chuckled. “Well, I can't guarantee my food will cure everything, but at least today we can warm you up a bit. I'll give you and the deputy some time to decide what you want, and then I'll come and take your order.”

“Sounds great, but on the way over here, all I could think about was a stack of your fabulous pecan pancakes.”

Mary smiled. “Not a problem. They're very popular today. Must be something about pancakes and cold weather.”

“Well, don't sell out before I get some.”

“It won't happen. We have lots of batter and gobs of pecans.”

“Good. See you in a bit.” I headed for the table where Paul waited.

“Am I late?” I asked, approaching the table.

He shook his head. “Not at all. I'm a little early. I had to stop by Amos Peabody's farm on the way over. He'd called to report that his milk cow, Simone, had been stolen.”

As I started to take off my coat, Paul jumped up and helped me. When his hand brushed my shoulder, it made me feel warm inside. I chided myself silently. My silly attraction for this handsome deputy could only lead to disappointment.

“And did you find Simone?” I asked as he took my coat and put it on the back of my chair.

“As a matter of fact, I did. She's decided she's in love with Boris Kirkendahl's bull. We found her hiding behind a small grove of trees next to Boris's fence. Unfortunately for her, I'm afraid her love will remain unrequited. Amos has no intention of allowing them to get together, and Boris's bull doesn't seem interested anyway.”

“Poor Simone,” I said and sat down.

Paul studied the menu. “Do you know what you want?”

I nodded. “Mary makes the world's best pecan pancakes.”

“Sounds good.” He closed his menu and stared at me. I'd started to feel a little uneasy when Mary suddenly stepped up next to our table.

“How about something to drink?” she asked.

“Hot coffee, please,” I said. “I'm frozen.”

“How about you, Paul?”

“Coffee sounds great. With cream, please.”

“Need a little longer to decide what you want to eat?”

“I think we'd both like pecan pancakes,” Paul said. “I'm told they're the world's best.”

Mary laughed. “Well, we've never compared our pancakes with all the other pancakes on earth, but I don't think you'll be disappointed.”

“Can you add a side of link sausage to that for me, Mary?” Paul asked.

“You've got it. Be back with your coffee in just a minute.”

“There might only be two restaurants in Sanctuary,” I said as Mary walked away, “but somehow we've managed to get the best cooks around. After I moved here, Janet and I used to go out of town for lunch on Sunday after church. But after a while, we decided it wasn't worth it. If you can't find what you want in Sanctuary, it probably doesn't exist.”

Paul chuckled. “Sounds like a good town motto.”

“You might be right. I love it here.”

“I grew up in Fredericktown and really enjoyed it, but I have to admit, Sanctuary is charming. I understand why you like it so much. I'm sure you're hoping Cicely will feel the same way?”

I sighed. “I do. Maybe it won't be the place she lives the rest
of her life, but I hope she'll love it as much as I do while she's here. In the end, she'll have to find her own way, I guess. I believe God has a plan for each of us. I don't know what He has in store for Cicely, so I won't try to influence her to choose the same path I did.”

Paul cleared his throat. “So how are you doing, Sarah?”

“I can't say I'm in great shape, but I'm hanging in there. Right now I'm concentrating on Cicely. That helps to keep my mind off myself and my own feelings.”

“Most people would be pretty angry. Even mad at God.”

Startled by his remark, I frowned at him. It was like he'd been peering into my soul. “In my heart I know He didn't have anything to do with Hannah's death, but . . . but I'm struggling some.” I shrugged. “We live in a fallen world where there is evil, and sometimes it gets in. I can't say I understand why or how, but blaming God wouldn't make any sense. I have to focus on the person who killed Hannah.” As I said the words, my heart convicted me. Even though my mind agreed with what I said, somewhere inside me there was rage that I couldn't deal with now, no matter what Jonathon said. This wasn't the time to let it out. If I did, I might completely unravel. Blaming God for what happened would go against everything I believed about Him. I couldn't lose my sister and my beliefs at the same time. It would be too much for me to endure.

“I understand. I may work for a small county in Missouri, but I've seen some things that really test my faith. People can do terrible things to one another. Sometimes it's hard to comprehend.”

Before I had a chance to respond, Mary came back to the table with our coffee. After she left, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm my ragged nerves. “Frankly, I
don't know that we'll always have the answers to everything. If we're not careful, we can drive ourselves crazy with questions.”

“Have you asked God about it?”

I grunted. “No, not really. Maybe when I have a chance to catch my breath, I might do that. Right now I don't dare allow myself that luxury.” I took a sip of coffee and then put my cup back on the saucer. “I'd be lying if I said I didn't have questions. But there is one thing I'm certain about. Hannah and I found each other for a reason. And that reason is Cicely. If Hannah hadn't located me, Cicely would have ended up in foster care. Maybe her experience would have been a good one. But maybe not. At least I know she will be with someone who loves her. Someone who will raise her up with a knowledge of God.”

Paul didn't say anything for a few moments, just sipped his coffee. Finally he put his cup down. “I lost a brother when I was a teenager. Randy was a good kid, but he was reckless. Took chances. One night, he was in a car wreck. A friend of his was driving drunk. Randy tried to get out of the car before something happened, but the guy wouldn't let him out. When we got to the hospital, Randy told us he knew he wasn't supposed to go with his friend that night, but he didn't listen. He lived two days. His friend was killed on impact.” Paul shook his head. “I believe God tried to protect Randy.” He sighed as he stared at his coffee cup. “I think Randy would still be alive if he'd paid attention to his gut.”

“I'm so sorry, Paul. God may have warned Hannah too. I'll probably never know.”

“I guess we need to listen to those warnings,” he said. “To be honest, I'm not sure if I know how to hear them.”

“When Janet offered me the chance to come to Sanctuary and live with her, I didn't hear a voice, but I'll never forget the
confirmation that bubbled up inside me. It was as if God was saying, ‘Yes! Yes!'”

“Well, I'm certainly glad you listened.” He frowned. “You told me your parents were murdered when you were young and after that you and your sister were separated. How does a child deal with something like that?” He stared intently at me. “I'm not just being nosy. I'd really like to know more about you. You can tell me to mind my own business if you want. I won't be offended.”

I took a deep breath, trying to clear my head. At that moment, Hannah's death seemed to fill every corner of my mind. It was as if there wasn't room for anything else. But for some reason, I really did want to share my story with Paul. I took a deep breath. “After our parents' deaths, my sister and I went to live with an aunt in California for a couple of years, but she became very ill and couldn't take care of us anymore. She was our only living relative, so we were sent back to Missouri and went into foster care. Hannah and I were both taken in by a very kind Mennonite woman. Unfortunately, a year later Mrs. Johnson passed away suddenly.” I realized I was talking quickly, but this wasn't a story I liked to repeat. “Not long after that, Hannah was adopted by a very loving couple. I stayed in foster care. Hannah was a beautiful child with blond hair and blue eyes. As you can see, I'm very plain, and I'm sure most adoptive parents weren't looking for skinny redheaded children with freckles.”