Gathering Shadows (6 page)

She straightened her back and glared at him. “People have a right to know what's going on.”

“Normally I would agree. But if word of this gets out, we might not be able to figure out who's behind it. And I want to know.”

Martha started to protest, but he shook his head.

“Not now. You know me, Martha. I won't let anyone hurt this town. Especially not for a story that doesn't really need to be told. But
someone
took those pictures. Then they made sure you saw them. Obviously they didn't care if they threatened our peace of mind or put this sanctuary at risk. In my mind, they're more of a problem than these nice people.” He nodded toward Zac and me. Esther, who had been quiet since Martha stormed in with her computer, added her agreement.

“I believe that is very wise counsel, Reuben,” she said. “Deceit and manipulation should not be taken lightly.”

Esther's words were like a knife in my heart. I hadn't been honest with anyone since I'd stepped foot in Sanctuary. Whoever took those pictures wasn't alone in their attempt to manipulate these good people.

“Go on back to the library, Martha,” Reuben admonished.

Although it was obvious she wasn't happy with this turn of events, Martha grabbed her computer and stormed out of the house.

Reuben sat quietly for a moment before taking a deep breath and staring at me, an odd look on his face. “There is only one person who could have done this, Wynter. You know who that is, don't you?”

It took me only a few seconds to realize the truth. “You're right.” We both turned our heads to stare at the person sitting next to Esther. “It's you,” I said. “You did this, Zac.”

“Denying it won't work.”

We sat alone at the dining room table. Reuben had already left, asking me to call him later. Esther had excused herself to clean the kitchen so Zac and I could be alone.

“You can't prove—”

“Stop it. It had to be you. I have no choice but to send you back to the station.”

He glowered at me. “But then Ed will find out the truth. That you went to Sanctuary after he told you not to. We seem to have a standoff here.”

I sighed and put my head in my hands, thinking. There was no way I could leave yet. But how could I stay and still keep my job? I had no choice. There was only one thing left to do.

“Okay, Zac. I'm going to tell you the truth. Why I'm really here. After I'm done, I want you to explain why you felt the need to take those pictures and try to sabotage this story.”

He shrugged. “Whatever.”

I took a deep breath, praying I wasn't making a mistake I couldn't rectify. “When I was thirteen years old, my seven-
year-old brother disappeared. At first, my parents thought he'd been kidnapped and was being held for ransom. We were rather wealthy back then. My father owned a large mortgage banking company. So they waited for a phone call. It never came. Then the bodies of young boys stared popping up about fifty miles away from where we lived in Chicago. The police were convinced the same serial killer took Ryan, even though his body was never recovered. My father believes he's dead. That was almost ten years ago. For years after he went missing, I woke up with nightmares. Terrible dreams where he was calling to me, and I was trying to find him.”

“No one ever mentioned this at work,” Zac said, his voice heavy with skepticism. “Seems something like that would be common knowledge at a news station.”

“Ed knows. I told him when I first came to work at KDSM. He's never revealed the truth to anyone. When I got out of college, I changed my name from Emily Erwin to Wynter Evans. I got a new name because . . . well, I needed a fresh start. A new identity. I didn't want to be known as the girl whose brother was kidnapped. Can you understand that?”

“I guess. But what does that have to do with Sanctuary?”

“I . . . I saw a picture, Zac. Of a young man who looks a lot like Ryan. He's here. In Sanctuary.” I held my hands up as a sign of surrender. “It's very possible I'm deluding myself. Everyone else gave up on Ryan years ago. But I . . . I just can't. I still have those dreams. I still hear him calling me. How can I ignore that?”

“Wow.” Zac's normally insolent expression softened. “You said your father gave up on your brother. What about your mother?”

“We don't talk to her about Ryan. She had a breakdown after
he went missing. My father couldn't deal with it, and they split up. Losing Ryan destroyed my family. My father and I rarely speak, and my mother . . . well, we're close, but it's not the same. She's better now, but when we're together, it feels like someone's missing. We remind each other of Ryan, I guess.”

“I-I'm sorry, Wynter. I had no idea.”

“I appreciate that. But now I need the truth from you. Why did you take those pictures and send them to the station?”

He sighed. “Because I'm a selfish idiot.” He stood up and walked over to the window behind us. “Missy Spencer told me that if I ruined this story for you, she'd make sure I got all the plush assignments at the station. I took those pictures yesterday, sent them to the station and then called and asked them to copy the library so we'd know they received them.”

“I can't believe you'd actually do something like that.”

He turned back toward me. “Well, believe it. Missy knows you're being considered for the anchor chair. She wanted to knock you out of the running. She figured if you blew this story, she'd become Ed's first choice.”

“I knew she hated me, but I had no idea she'd go to these lengths.”

Zac came over and sat down again. “I should have told her to take a hike, but it seemed like a smart career move. Somehow, I lost sight of the fact that you're a human being with feelings and . . . problems.” He shook his head. “You may not believe this, but I was raised to care about people. My mother . . .” He cleared his throat and looked away for a moment. After a deep sigh he said, “My mother is a Christian. She tried to teach me to put other people first. Guess I didn't listen.”

“But you said you hated being around religious people.”

“It's a long story, and this isn't the time for it. The important thing is that we're finally being honest with each other. And I'd like to help you, Wynter. Really. No more tricks, I promise. I'm sorry for being such a jerk. It's not who I really am.”

“I don't know if what you did can be fixed, Zac.”

“I sent the pictures to a friend of mine, Amy, another photog. After she sent the e-mail, I called her and asked her to dump the pictures and delete the e-mails. I didn't want this thing to be traced back to me. That's when I found out we weren't even supposed to be here.”

“What if she tells Ed?”

He shook his head. “She won't. We keep each other's secrets.”

“I hope you're right,” I said. “I won't leave Sanctuary until I know for certain that young man isn't my brother.”

Zac stared silently at me for a moment. “Wynter,” he said finally, “if Ed knows the truth about your past, wouldn't he understand why you need to be here?”

“When he hired me, I promised to put the past behind me. Ed made it clear he wasn't looking for someone who was so wrapped up in her own story that she couldn't be trusted to put the interests of the station first. You know Ed.” I lowered my voice. “‘The story comes first. It's all about the story.'”

My attempt at sounding like Ed made Zac smile. “But you have a real lead. That should make a difference.”

“No, I don't. I've found a boy who looks somewhat like my brother. That's it. I have no reason to believe he's Ryan. This is probably an exercise in futility. It's just . . .” I bit my lip, unwilling to continue.

“That you have to know.”

I nodded. “I intend to proceed very carefully. I'm not looking to destroy my career. Nor do I want to cause these nice people
any trouble. I need to do some digging. Some investigative reporting. I've done it before for a story. Now I'm doing it for myself. If I find out this teenager, this Elijah, isn't Ryan, we'll finish the story, head out of here, and get back to the station. No harm, no foul.”

“But how long can we remain in Sanctuary before Ed gets suspicious?”

“I don't know. We'll probably have to take a few quick trips to some of the other towns on our list while we're here.” I lowered my voice so I wouldn't be overheard. “I've seen Elijah only once. Somehow I've got to get some time with him—or with someone who knows him.”

Zac's eyes darted toward the closed door to the dining room. “Seems to me Esther would be the best source for your questions. She's lived here forever. She'd know when Elijah came to Sanctuary.”

“You're right. But I've got to be careful. I'm afraid if I show my hand . . . let anyone know why I'm really here . . . they'll kick us out.”

“What about calling the police?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. Not until I'm sure he's Ryan. You heard Reuben. There are people here who value their anonymity. I don't want to endanger them for no reason.”

Zac forced back a yawn. “Sorry. Didn't sleep too well last night.”

“Guilty conscience?”

“Yes. And believe it or not, I do have a conscience. Just haven't listened to it much lately. By the way, have you wondered why people are hiding out here? I mean, this town doesn't look like the kind of place where hit men and Mafia bosses would retire.”

“Yeah, I've thought about it. My guess is the name
Sanctuary
means something. Maybe some folks are here for their own safety. If I've actually found Ryan, I wonder what will happen to this town. The truth could cause a media firestorm. Who would I be putting in danger?”

“I see your point. So what's our next move?”

I smiled at his use of the word
our.
“Zac, you need to think about this carefully. If Ed finds out I didn't follow orders, we could lose our jobs. Maybe you should head home. Tell Ed you're sick or something.”

He shook his head. “No. I want to stay. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I'm doing something that matters.” He cocked his head to the side and gave me a lopsided grin. “You and me, Wynter. Sherlock and Watson. Nick and Nora Charles. Castle and Beckett.”

I chuckled. “We may be more like Laurel and Hardy, but I appreciate it, Zac. Really. I'll be careful. Try to protect both our jobs.”

“That's good enough for me.” He folded his arms across his chest. “Is there anyone else who could help us? Someone who might know something about Ryan's abduction?”

“Just one person, but I dread calling him.”

Zac raised his eyebrows. “Who is that?”

“My dad. He knows everything about the case, and his memories of Ryan are much clearer than mine. But I really don't want to contact him unless I have to.”

“Okay. Whatever you say.”

Zac reached for his coffee cup and took a quick sip. Then he set his cup down on the table. “So, Sherlock. The game is afoot?”

I smiled at him and nodded, but doubts filled my heart. Had
I just made a serious mistake? Could I really count on Zac? For a woman who didn't trust many people, I'd just delivered myself into the hands of a man who had tried to betray me once already.

My hand shook slightly as I took a sip of cold coffee. I'd made myself vulnerable, and I didn't like it. Not one bit.

“Do you think Martha will keep quiet about the pictures?” I asked Reuben. We'd stopped for lunch at The Whistle Stop Café after a walking tour of Sanctuary. Reuben had introduced me to several people who'd agreed to let me interview them. I was charmed by the small town and its eclectic residents. It was clear that this piece of our story would be very interesting. Boiling it down to a few minutes would be tough.

The Whistle Stop was almost an exact duplicate of The Oil Lamp, except the owner, who seemed to be working all alone in the restaurant, was softer and sweeter than Randi. And when she went to the kitchen to cook, she didn't glower at me the way August had.

I'd left Zac at Esther's. He'd phoned Reuben in person after breakfast and confessed to taking and sending the pictures. I knew it was hard for him, but to his credit, he was completely honest and took full responsibility for his actions. However, he wasn't quite ready to face Reuben yet and had elected to skip lunch to do some online research about Ryan's disappearance. Since I was still full from breakfast, I ordered a small salad.
Reuben was already on his second helping of chili. His lean frame contradicted his zest for food.

“Yes. I explained what happened. She was upset but also relieved that the pictures didn't go any farther than her computer. I'm thankful Zac admitted the truth about what he did.”

I nodded. “I am too, but—”

“You're not sure you can trust him now?”

“Exactly.”

Reuben frowned. “He took a chance, you know. Telling you everything.”

“I know.” I sighed and shook my head. “I have a very hard time trusting people.”

“And why is that, Wynter? Someone hurt you?”

I stared into his cobalt-blue eyes. “Long story. Not very interesting.”

“It is to me.”

I cleared my throat to give myself a moment to think. How much should I tell this man? In the end, I went with the partial truth.

“My parents divorced when I was sixteen. The divorce left my mother scarred and my father absent. He remarried, got a new family, and walked out on his old one. I guess I'm not in a rush to put myself in another situation where I can be rejected again.”

Reuben's eyebrows shot up. “That's pretty intuitive. Most people don't understand why they react the way they do.”

“Sure,” I said with a quick smile. “I may be damaged, but at least I know why.”

Reuben didn't laugh at my attempt to lighten the tone of our conversation. “I've found trying to protect yourself from pain usually makes it worse. Life hurts sometimes, Wynter. But
getting caught in the past can destroy the good life God has planned for you.”

I grunted. “Maybe God only has a plan for special people. I've decided to take over my life and do what I want with it. If He doesn't like it, He'll have to tell me.”

Reuben put his spoon down. “That sounds pretty cynical.”

“I-I'm sorry. That didn't come out the way I wanted. I mean, I believe in God. I'm not trying to be rebellious; it's just that I can't give control of my life over to someone I don't understand.”

“Do you go to church?”

“I used to, when I was a kid. But I quit going after . . . after my parents' divorce. I don't feel the need to be part of organized religion. Too many hypocrites there.”

Reuben smiled. “Maybe that's why we need churches. To help the hypocrites.”

“My mother says the same thing. She keeps asking me if I'm back in church. I know it upsets her when I say no.” I speared a big, juicy piece of tomato with my fork. “I'll find a church someday, I guess. But right now, I'm too busy.”

Reuben didn't say anything, just went back to his bowl of chili. For some reason something my Sunday school teacher once said reverberated in my head.
“We should never be too busy for God
, children. He wasn't too busy to give His life
for us.”

Why in the world was I thinking about that now? I shook my head as if I could jiggle the unsettling thought out of my brain. It didn't work. It kept echoing in my mind while Reuben talked. I tried to listen, but by the time my thoughts were clear again, I was lost.

“I'm sorry,” I said finally. “Could you repeat what you just said? I get a little distracted sometimes.”

“Sorry. I have a tendency to drone on and on.”

“No, it's not you. Really. You were saying something about the people who live in Sanctuary?”

“Yes. I was explaining that no one here is hiding out from the law, if that concerns you. We don't shelter criminals.”

“I wondered about women hiding from their abusers. This would be the perfect place to start over. If you like small towns.”

Reuben nodded. “That might be true. And releasing the wrong information could put someone in danger.”

I couldn't hold back an exasperated sigh. “Then why are we here?”

Reuben smiled slowly. “Martha's initial enthusiasm opened the door. Several of us tried to shut it, but it was too late.”

My mouth dropped open. “You were one of the people who called my station?”

“Yes. I asked your boss to reconsider using Sanctuary for your special. From what he said, I assumed he'd agreed. I was surprised when you showed up.”

“When we met, you didn't act surprised. I got the impression you wanted us here.”

He shrugged. “You were already in town. I was afraid asking you to leave would just make things worse. You know, reporters smelling a story. I figured if we gave you what you wanted, within reason, you'd leave. It seemed like the safest choice.”

“I didn't come here to exploit this town, Reuben.”

“I know that now.” He nodded quickly and stared down at his bowl.

“You could ask us to leave, you know. It would be the safest choice, wouldn't it?”

He wiped his mouth with his napkin and met my gaze. “I don't want you to go, Wynter. I like you, and I want some time
to get to know you a little better.” He blinked several times but didn't break eye contact. “Maybe that sounds selfish.”

The usual protective wall that automatically went up when a man expressed interest in me stayed in place for a reason I couldn't begin to understand. Finally I said, “No. Not really.”

There was a long silence, but it wasn't the least bit uncomfortable. Instead, it felt restful. Calm. Suddenly, the last time I saw Ryan popped into my head.
Stay focused, Wynter. You're here
to find your brother. Nothing else matters.

We finished our lunch and left, walking back through town toward Esther's. It was a lovely spring day. A light breeze kept us cool, and the smell of honeysuckle surrounded us like a soft, sweet perfume. Reuben took me to a quilt shop that was closed when we'd first walked through town. I met Rachel Stolz and her mother, Beatrice. Their quilts were lovely, and I decided to buy one before I left Sanctuary. Being conservative Mennonites, they declined an on-air interview but agreed to let us get some footage of the store and some of the quilts.

We'd just left when a stocky woman walked up to us, a big smile on her face.

“Howdy, Mayor,” she said loudly. Although she addressed Reuben, her eyes were glued on me.

“Hello, Rae,” he said. “Visiting a patient in town?”

She nodded. Short and round, hair cut like a man's and dressed in overalls, she exuded a kind of enthusiastic presence. She stuck out her hand. “I'm Mady Rae Buettner. Everyone calls me Rae.”

I took her hand and shook it. Strong grip. “Nice to meet you, Rae. Wynter Evans. I'm from a television station in St. Louis, here to do a story on Sanctuary.”

She let go of my hand and nodded. “I heard you were in
town.” Her broad smile widened. “You don't look like much of a threat.”

I laughed. “Thank you. I don't feel like one.”

“Rae is our town's veterinarian,” Reuben said. “She not only takes care of our pets, but she also looks out for our horses and livestock.”

“I love animals,” Rae said. “It's people I'm not too fond of sometimes.”

“I understand,” I said with a smile. “I'm a cat person.”

“What kind of kitty you got?”

“A Persian. Named Mr. Henderson.”

Rae clapped her large hands together. I noticed that they didn't look completely clean. “After Sally Rogers's cat in
The
Dick
Van Dyke Show
?”

I grinned. “Yes. I love to watch reruns of that old show. Most people don't make the connection.”

Rae put her head back and guffawed. “Most people aren't as old as me, honey.” She pointed at Reuben. “You need to get Lazarus in for his booster shot, Mr. Mayor. I expect to see him next week, you hear?”

Reuben smiled at her. “Yes, ma'am. I'll call and set up a time.”

“Good.” She patted me on the back. “Nice to meet you, honey. Hope you get whatever you need for your story.”

“Me too. Thank you, Rae.”

I watched the large woman lumber away. She stopped and talked to several other people on the street. She seemed to be well-liked by the residents.

“Nice lady,” I said to Reuben as we began walking.

“Not only nice, but a real blessing to this town. Some of our residents are farmers. If they need help before they sell their harvest, Rae carries them. She's taken care of several animals
for free. I've never seen her turn away an animal that needed help. We had to use a vet in Barnes before Rae got here almost two years ago. He wasn't as compassionate as she is.”

“I guess that's why so many people like small towns. That feeling of family.”

“Yes, it's why we look out for one another. Rae doesn't go to church, but she's still a valued member of this town. People accept her as she is.”

“Sanctuary's certainly not a big town, but with the many farm animals and pets, how can one woman take care of all of them?”

“She doesn't. Esther's friend and neighbor, Janet Dowell, helps out. Janet's a vet. They both stay pretty busy.”

“Esther mentioned her. Said she's a close friend.”

“She is. Janet stays to herself, but she and Esther have a special bond.”

The cautious look on his face led me to suspect Janet was one of Sanctuary's
special
people. “I take it Janet's not someone I should interview?”

Reuben frowned. “I would appreciate it if you didn't approach her.”

“Look, Reuben. I'm certain I can include Sanctuary in our special and protect everyone's privacy at the same time. We'll do a little about how the town was founded. Maybe use Martha, since she runs the library and is such a history buff. Then we'll show some of your businesses, talk to a few people who want to be on camera, and that's it. No sweeping shots. No group shots. Up close and personal. That should ensure we don't get the wrong people on film.”

“I think I can round up a few more interviews for you,” he said. “Why don't you let me take care of that?”

“Sure. Thanks. You know, it would be great if we could get
at least one person on camera that is more . . . conservative. I know that might be a problem, but we're presenting Sanctuary as a Mennonite town.”

“I told you that most of our citizens
are
Mennonite.”

“I get that. But we're here because Sanctuary is different. One of the most important reasons you're special is because of your conservative residents. I would hate to ignore that part of what makes this town unique. Even if we could get someone in the background. Just so we could see how they're dressed. No faces. We'll hear them but won't see them.”

Reuben shook his head slowly. “Maybe.”

I cleared my throat, trying not to look as nervous as I felt. “What about that boy . . . what was his name? Uh, Elijah? Do you think he might be willing to help us?”

“I don't know. Maybe, if he won't actually appear on camera. I'll ask his parents. They've been in Sanctuary a long time. Nothing to hide that I know of.” He smiled. “Guess I make it sound like we're a den of spies. I hope you don't get the wrong idea.”

I shook my head. “No. After thinking about it, I realize that a lot of people move to small towns because they're trying to get away from something.” I took a sip of my iced tea and noticed my hand shook slightly. “You said Elijah's family had been here a long time. Was Elijah born here?”

“No. I've been in Sanctuary six years. They'd only been here a couple of years before I came. They used to live in Jamesport, an Amish town. Have you heard of it?”

“Yeah. Our station did a special on the Amish a couple months ago. Because of that, I can't include them in this piece.”

“Too bad. They would have welcomed you with open arms. They cater heavily to tourists.”

“So the Amish town would welcome us, but the more pro
gressive Mennonite town doesn't want us here? That's a little confusing.”