Gathering Shadows (5 page)

“But then . . .”

“Wait a minute. It's got to be my turn by now.”

I smiled. “Okay. Go ahead.”

“Is your name really Wynter?”

His question alarmed me. How had he zeroed in on the one thing I couldn't talk about? Warning bells went off in my mind. I'd have to be careful.

“No, it's not my real name. It's my on-air name. I picked it because I love winter. In fact, I was born in the middle of a snowstorm in a small Missouri hospital. There was only one nurse on duty that night, and she actually delivered me. The doctor didn't make it in until hours later.”

“I like that story,” Reuben said. “So what's your real name?”

“Follow-up?”

He nodded. “Follow-up.”

“It's Emily.”

His eyebrows arched in surprise. “A good old-fashioned name.”

“I guess.”

“Did you change your last name?”

“A little. Not much.” I shook my head. “That's off-limits.”

“Okay. Did you change your name because you didn't like it? Or was there another reason?”

“Off-limits,” I said again.

Reuben studied me as if he could read my thoughts, and it made me uncomfortable. What was it about this man?

“I guess it's your turn,” he said, watching me closely.

I tried to look as nonchalant as I could, even though his piercing gaze made me nervous. “Let me ask about your more conservative residents. I noticed a family out in front of the library today. The boy's name was . . . um, I think it was Elijah. He dropped his mother off at the library. They were dressed in Mennonite garb, and they rode up in a buggy. Can you tell me something about them? How they live?”

“I can tell you about them, but I'll warn you right now that they won't be seen on camera.”

“Because they're conservative Mennonites?”

He nodded. “They don't believe in getting their pictures taken, and that would certainly apply to video.”

“Okay, let's just use them as examples then. Tell me how they live. It will help me to understand people like them.”

Reuben started to respond, but before he could, a man walked up to the table.

“Hey, mayor,” he said with a smile. “Who is this pretty lady?” His bright blue eyes were inquisitive but kind. Longish thick black hair framed a handsome face. Obviously, Sanctuary was home to some good-looking men. If any of the single women I knew got a look at these guys, Sanctuary's visitor population would likely explode.

“Wynter Evans, meet Jonathon Wiese.”

“Welcome to Sanctuary, Wynter,” Jonathon said. “I heard journalists were in Sanctuary. You're the talk of the town.”

I shook his hand and smiled up at him. “Seems like most of that talk is pretty negative. So how do you feel about it?”

“I think it's great. Sanctuary is a wonderful place. Should make an interesting spot in your feature. I doubt seriously if we're going to be run over by tourists or people wanting to move here. This town is certainly not everyone's cup of tea.”

“With the recent popularity of Amish and Mennonite fiction, you might be surprised.”

“They'd have to find a way to support themselves. There aren't any jobs in Sanctuary. We're far enough away from larger towns to make working there and living here impractical.”

“Sounds like you've thought this out.”

He chuckled. “You're right. I have.”

“Jonathon would be a great person for you to interview,” Reuben said. “He used to live in a strict Mennonite town in Kansas. He left there because he wanted more freedom.”

“So you came here?” I said, with surprise. “Why not go somewhere more . . . modern?”

“Desiring more liberty doesn't mean I was ready to throw away my roots. I just wanted to stretch them a bit.”

At that moment, Randi showed up with our plates. “Hey, Jonathon. Are you joining these folks for dinner?”

“No. Just stopping by to meet our guest. And to give her this.” He held out a folded piece of paper in front of me. “I found this stuck on the windshield of the Prius outside. I was told it's your car. Thought I'd better bring it to you. It's a little windy, and I was afraid it might blow away.”

“Thank you. I can't imagine what it is.”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. Maybe it's from someone who wants to be interviewed for your special.” He stuck his hand out. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Wynter. Let me know if I can help you in any way. You can catch me at the church during the day.”

I shook his hand and smiled. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

“Nice guy,” I said to Reuben as Jonathon walked away.

“Yes, he is. And he meant that about helping you.”

“You all need anything else?” Randi asked.

“More coffee when you have a chance,” Reuben said.

“Sure.”

As soon as Randi walked away, I opened the folded piece of paper Jonathon had given me. Written in large block letters, someone had written GET OUT OF TOWN NOW OR YOU'LL BE SORRY!

Even though I was tired and the bed at Esther's was comfortable, that night I had a hard time getting to sleep. The words in the letter kept running through my brain. Reuben had basically dismissed it. “We may be a Mennonite town,” he'd said, “but we still have teenagers that like to pull pranks. There isn't anyone you need to worry about in Sanctuary.” Maybe he was right, but I wasn't convinced. Esther's odd warning, combined with the note, pointed toward something darker. Something disquieting.

After lying in bed for an hour or so, I finally got up and decided to transcribe the notes I'd written at the restaurant to my computer files. I settled on the fainting couch, my laptop balanced on my lap. I was typing away when I felt something. Or maybe it was a movement caught by my peripheral vision. A quick look out the window next to me revealed a figure standing outside in the street, looking up toward my room. Fear gripped me, and I froze. The lamp was on, so whoever it was could clearly see me, yet I couldn't make out anything except an outline of a man.

I forced myself to move, putting down my laptop and swinging
my legs over the side of the couch. Then I got up, clicked off the lamp, and went back to the window. A quick look outside revealed nothing. The street was empty. Had I really seen someone, or was my imagination working overtime? After sitting in the dark for another hour, I finally crawled into bed, falling asleep out of pure exhaustion.

Saturday morning I awoke to the aroma of bacon frying. Not my normal morning experience. A cup of yogurt or a granola bar was my usual breakfast fare.

The beautiful old bed was very comfortable, and my body craved a couple more hours of sleep. After staying under the covers for a few extra minutes while trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep, I finally sat up and lowered my feet onto the step stool. I definitely needed it to get out of the unusually high bed. The clock on the small table near the door read seven-thirty. Late for me. I usually got up by five every morning. Esther had told us breakfast would be ready at eight, so I got out of bed, quickly got dressed, and fixed my hair and makeup. I didn't have time to use my curling iron, so I fashioned my hair into a long braid.

After getting ready, I went over to the window and looked out. A few people were walking down the street, but no one was staring up at me. There was a lamppost across the street in the same spot where I thought I'd seen someone. Had my imagination turned the lamppost into a person? I shook my head. “You need to get a grip, Wynter,” I said softly.

Although I was prepared to dismiss the idea that a man had been watching me last night, I was still upset about the note stuck on my car. And there was the problem of Zac. He was ready to leave town, and I was ready to see him go. Unfortunately, getting another photog now would be problematic. I couldn't
ask Ed to send someone else. He'd know I was in Sanctuary. Somehow I had to keep Zac stable. Acting like I believed the note wasn't a serious threat was my only choice. My instincts told me the cook at Randi's restaurant wrote it. I noticed he'd taken a couple of breaks last night. Hopefully, he was exactly what Reuben had said—a cranky curmudgeon, no different than a toothless dog. Lots of bark but no ability to bite.

I was on my way downstairs when I heard Zac's door open. Good. The last thing I wanted was for him to offend our hostess by being late for breakfast. I really liked Esther.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully as I entered the dining room. “Have a seat. Everything is ready.”

I surveyed the large oak dining table, loaded with platters of bacon, sausage, eggs, pancakes, fried potatoes, biscuits, gravy, and jam.

“I hope you're expecting a lot of company for breakfast. There's enough food here for twenty people.”

She waved her hand at me dismissively. “I love to cook. Sometimes I ask my friends over for dinner, but I don't get to cook breakfast very often. This is a treat for me.”

She pointed toward a chair, and I sat down, wondering how in the world I could make a dent in the huge feast.

“Wow. Something smells great.”

Zac came into the room, his eyes wide with surprise. I hoped he was a big eater. If not, we would probably disappoint our hostess.

“You sit here, Zac,” Esther said, pointing to a chair across from me. “I'll get some coffee and be right back.”

“You'd better be hungry,” I whispered to him. “I'm not really a breakfast eater.”

“We're both going to have to rise to the challenge,” he said. “We can't hurt her feelings.”

I looked at him with surprise. “Since when did you start caring about anyone in this town?”

He grunted. “I like Esther. She's a good person.” He picked up a napkin from the table and put it in his lap. “By the way. We need to talk.”

“About what?”

Zac glared at me. “About why we're here when Ed told you to take Sanctuary off our list.”

My mouth went dry. How could he know? Ed certainly wouldn't have shared information like that with a photog. Esther saved me from coming up with a response when she reentered the room carrying a carafe.

“Here, let me get that,” Zac said, getting up from his seat.

“Thank you, Zac. It is a little heavy.”

My mouth almost dropped open in surprise. I caught myself just in time. Zac had manners? Who knew?

Zac put the carafe down while Esther perused the table.

“I hope I didn't forget anything,” she said softly.

He smiled. “Just more people to eat it all.”

“I know I overdid it, but I wanted your first breakfast in Sanctuary to be a good one.”

I nodded, but my mind was still focused on Zac's revelation. What should I tell him? How could I explain?

Esther sat down and folded her hands. “Would you like to say grace, Zac?”

My dumbfounded photog turned red. “Uh, I don't really . . . I mean, I'm not sure how . . .”

“I understand,” Esther said. “What about you, Wynter? Do you pray?”

“Sure,” I said, sounding more confident than I felt. It had been a while, but I gave it my best shot, asking God to bless
our food and the woman who had welcomed us into her home. During my prayer, I snuck a sideways glance at Zac. His eyes were wide open and fixed on me. I almost stumbled over my words and had to force myself to concentrate.

“Thank you, dear,” Esther said when I finished. “Now, both of you help yourself.”

I spooned some scrambled eggs onto my plate, along with a couple of sausages and a helping of fried potatoes. Zac got a little of everything.

“This is delicious,” I said after a couple of bites. “My mother used to make big breakfasts on the weekends, but that was before . . .” I choked back my words. I'd almost said
before my brother disappeared.

“Before what, dear?” Esther said.

“Before . . . my parents' divorce.”

Esther shook her head. “I am so sorry, Wynter. That must have been very hurtful for you.”

“You get over it. Life goes on.”

“But children need . . .” Esther was interrupted by a loud knocking on her front door. “Oh my,” she said, getting up. “I can't imagine who that could be.”

As she hurried off, Zac pointed at me. “We're not finished. I want to know what's going on.”

Angry voices stopped any further conversation. Martha, the lady from the library, burst into the room, her face crimson and her expression angry. Reuben trailed behind her.

“There you are,” Martha sputtered. “I should never have told you to come here. This is all my fault. I can't believe you could do something so . . . heinous.”

I stood to my feet. “What in the world are you talking about?”

Martha stomped over to the table, a laptop in her hands.
“There's the evidence right there. Proof that you're trying to ruin our town.”

I gazed down at the small screen and saw a picture. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was taken in Sanctuary. It was a photo taken out on the street, and it included several individuals. Their faces were clearly visible. I clicked over to several more candid shots of Sanctuary residents. People who obviously had no idea they were being photographed.

“Where did these come from?” I asked, flabbergasted. “I've never seen them before. We certainly didn't take them.”

“Oh, really?” Martha snapped. “Just look.” She reached over and scrolled down, revealing the sender's e-mail address.

“That's the station's address.” I shook my head. “I'm totally confused. I had nothing to do with this. I didn't even bring my camera.”

Martha scrolled down again and pointed at the e-mail message. “This is clearly a response from someone at your station confirming they received the photographs
you
sent. They say they just cc'd the library so you would be sure to get the information. Thank goodness they did, or you would have gotten away with it!”

It was true that I'd e-mailed Martha several times before coming to Sanctuary. It would make sense for someone at the station to copy an important message and send it to the library, since, as far as they knew, it was my only contact here. But how would that even happen? Ed had told us to forget Sanctuary, so he wouldn't have done it. Could it have come from someone else? It was highly unlikely. The only other person at the station who knew about Sanctuary was Megan, and this message hadn't come from her. She would have used her own e-mail account—and she would have included a personal note. Of course, even
if I could figure out a way it
could
have happened—it didn't matter, since I hadn't sent the pictures in the first place. It was clear that someone was out to sabotage our efforts.

“Look, I have no idea what's going on, but I had nothing to do with this. As I said, I didn't even bring my camera.”

“Well, I know you have a phone,” Martha said. “I saw you using it.”

“Of course I have a phone, but I didn't take any photos with it.”

“Do you know where it is?” Reuben asked.

I shrugged. “I assume it's in my room. I haven't looked.”

“Can you get it?”

“Sure.” I wasn't sure what he was thinking, but I hurried up the stairs. After a brief search, I found my phone on the floor next to the nightstand. That explained why I'd missed seeing it last night. I grabbed it and went back downstairs. No one was talking as I entered the room. Martha still looked angry, Reuben's expression was solemn, and Zac looked bored.

I held up my phone. “I found it. It fell on the floor. That's why I didn't put it in my purse last night.”

“Did you check it for pictures?” Reuben asked.

I frowned at him. “Of course not. Why would I?”

“Humor me,” he said. “Take a look.”

I sighed and brought up my pictures. My mouth dropped open. There they were. The same pictures that were sent to the library.

“I . . . I don't understand,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I looked over at Reuben. “You have my word. I didn't take these. And I certainly didn't—” Suddenly something occurred to me. I pulled up a list of the last numbers I'd dialed. Triumphantly, I handed the phone to Reuben. “I didn't make
any calls to the station yesterday at all. This proves I had nothing to do with those photos.”

“Then why are they on your phone?” Martha said slowly. Her expression was celebratory, as if she'd caught me in a lie. “Are you saying someone stole your phone and snapped these pictures? That's pretty farfetched, isn't it?”

All I could do was nod. I knew how it sounded. “I have no idea how it happened, but someone is certainly going out of their way to cause trouble.”

“No one in Sanctuary would do such a thing,” Martha said with a sniff, her nose in the air.

“Well, it seems very convenient. You want us out of town, and these shots show up on your laptop. Odd, isn't it?”

Martha's already red face deepened until I began to worry about her blood pressure. If she had a stroke, I'd probably be blamed for that too.

“That's a lie. I would never—”

“Okay, that's enough,” Reuben said. “We need to sort this out calmly.” He put his hand on Martha's shoulder. “The important thing is that no one is going to get the chance to use these pictures.” He looked at me. “Can you get rid of them? Make sure they don't go any further?”

“I'm not sure where they came from, but I assure you it'll be taken care of. If anyone from the station actually did see them, I'll instruct them to delete them immediately.”

Reuben nodded. “Thank you. But before we proceed with your story, we need to have a serious talk. If we can't find a way to ensure people's privacy, we'll have to call this whole thing off.”

“I understand. I really do. But you have my word. I'm not behind this.”

Reuben studied the pictures closely. “I believe you. If these
pictures really were taken with your phone, you couldn't have done it. First of all, as you said, you didn't have your phone last night. But even if you had, you didn't leave the restaurant until after dark. These were taken while it was still light.” He straightened up. “You're definitely being set up.” He pointed at the irate librarian. “Martha, go back to the library—and don't spread this around. I mean it.”