Rising Darkness (10 page)

I stared at the elderly woman in surprise. The stairs were difficult for her, and she'd climbed them with this tray in her hands? After the way I'd spoken to her?

“Esther, what if you'd tripped and fallen?”

“Pshaw.” She handed me the tray. “As you see, I did not fall.”

I noticed she was breathing a little heavily and pointed it out.

She smiled. “Perhaps next time I will call you and you can come and get the tray.” She patted my arm. “But tonight I
wanted you to be comfortable. I pray you get all your work done and still have a restful sleep. Good night, dear.”

As she walked away, I just watched her. When I heard her reach the bottom of the stairs, I closed the door to my room. Then I set the tray on top of the nightstand next to the bed and stared at it. I couldn't remember one time in my entire life when my mother had brought me cookies or hot chocolate while I studied. My parents had seen school as nothing more than a bother. Something that was a waste of time for me. The minute I came through the door after school, I'd had to go to work. Clean the house. Do laundry. Make dinner. Any homework I did was done on the bus ride home. And sometimes late at night after they went to bed. Since we didn't have electricity, I'd studied by candlelight. But even finding candles was difficult. Once I stole some from the hardware store and got caught. Harold Eberly, the owner, asked me why I needed them, and I told him. After that, he started giving me candles whenever I asked. Somehow, Cora Menlo, the owner of the restaurant before Lizzie, found out about my situation. She gave me a battery-operated lamp that was much better than the candles. And she kept me supplied with batteries. For a while, my grades got better, but then my father found the lamp. When he took it from me, he yelled, “We're not charity cases. We don't need nothin' from Cora Menlo.” I'd found his protestations odd since my parents lived on charity.

Once again, I surprised myself by remembering kindnesses extended to me from different people in Kingdom. Why had I betrayed them? I rubbed my eyes, trying to push specters back into the dark, but they wouldn't be quieted so easily. A
flood of memories filled my head until it felt so full I wanted to scream.

After my father took the lamp away, it was back to studying by candlelight. Eventually, my eyes grew strained, and it became difficult to see. A teacher at school sent a letter home to my parents, telling them I needed glasses. Wanting to get the teacher off their backs, my mother gave me an old pair of my father's. When I'd tried to tell her they didn't fit, she'd slapped me in the face. “They were good enough for your father, and they're good enough for you. You wear them or else.” One of the lenses actually helped me some, so when I read, I'd close the other eye and read through the lens that worked. They were big and ugly, but I wore them anyway. It was better than nothing.

After a while, it became too hard to study, and I gave up. My parents pulled me out of school when I turned sixteen anyway, so my ordeal with school ended. But my desire to learn had continued to smolder. Once I got away from Kingdom, I got a job as a waitress, bought glasses that were made for me, and began to study for my GED. After that, I enrolled in a community college, working three jobs and studying most nights with only a few hours of sleep. It was difficult, but I was close to earning my degree a year early. The internship at the paper, arranged by my school, had opened the door to the job I had now. I wanted to show my parents what I'd achieved. Not because I thought they would be proud, but because I wanted to prove to them that I had succeeded in spite of them. That I was worth something, after all. But that didn't happen. I stumbled across an online version of a local paper from Washington, Kansas, a town
not far from Kingdom. I could still feel the shock I'd experienced on the day I found my father's name in the obituaries. Even in death, his rejection had been clear. There were no survivors mentioned except my mother.

I climbed up on the bed and went back to work on my research. Thankfully, I didn't have to worry about not being able to see anymore. I'd discovered laser eye surgery and now had 20/20 vision. I drank Esther's hot chocolate and ate the delicious cookies she'd brought while I transferred the names I'd written down in my notebook to my computer. Clyde scooted closer to me, but I wasn't certain if he wanted me to pet him or if he was just interested in my cookie.

After I typed up the names of men who'd moved to town after the robbery, I made another list of the men who'd moved away before June of 2011. There were nine single men on the first list and only two who'd left town. Of course, just because they'd left didn't mean they weren't Terrance Chase. Nine names so far. And I wasn't finished. I still had to go through all the records up to now. I sighed. This was going to be harder than I'd imagined. I would need some help to whittle down the list some.

I checked my watch. It was only a little after ten. It wasn't unusual for me to stay up until midnight during the week. Even later on the weekends, though I usually spent the time watching old movies on TV or reading a book. I'd just decided to look for something online when my phone rang. Surprised, I picked it up and said, “Hello?”

“Sophie, it's Donnie.”

“Is Tom all right?”

“Yes, he's fine. Still in isolation.”

“That's a relief.”

“I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to see how you were doing.”

“Not as good as I'd hoped. My cover is blown with the lady I'm staying with. I didn't know the woman I picked to be my grandmother couldn't have children. Thankfully, she says she'll keep my secret. I've been doing some research and have some possibilities, but it's going to take a while, and I'm not sure how much time I have.”

“What do you mean?”

I told him about the note I found in my car.

“I don't like that, Sophie. What if Terrance Chase knows what you're up to?”

“I doubt seriously it could be Chase, Donnie. I mean, who knows I'm here besides an elderly Mennonite lady? I'm wondering if it's someone who thinks I'm here for some other reason. I had lunch with a nice-looking single pastor. Maybe some eager spinster has it out for me.” Although I'd meant it as a joke, Donnie didn't laugh.

“Maybe,” he said slowly, “but I don't think so. I found out something you need to know.”

“What do you mean?”

After a brief silence, Donnie said, “You know I used to sneak Tom's mail out of the prison so no one here would read it?”

“Sure.”

“I thought he'd given me everything. Except the letter to your newspaper. Were you aware that your paper responded to that letter?”

“No,” I said slowly. “They acted like they were just going to ignore it.”

“I was careful to check any mail that came here for Tom. You know, in case someone wrote back about Terrance Chase. The only things I ever found were a few letters from a couple of his friends and the response from you. I intercepted your letter and took it to him. But today I found something in the guards' office. A letter from your newspaper, thanking Tom for contacting them and telling him they would let him know if they felt his concerns were worth looking into. Stapled to it was a copy of the letter Tom mailed to them. It mentioned Terrance Chase and the robbery. It also contained Tom's claim that he knew where Chase was.”

It had never occurred to me that the paper would respond to the letter. They were so dismissive, I'd assumed they'd just trashed it. Obviously, I was wrong. “I don't understand, Donnie. Are you saying someone else intercepted that letter?”

“That's exactly what I'm saying. Someone definitely knows about Tom's claims, and I have no idea who it is. It must be one of the other guards since that's where I found the letter, but who he is and who he told about the letter is anyone's guess.”

My mind raced over this new information. “So someone read the letter from the paper, knew about Tom's claims concerning Chase, and probably got an inmate to try to get the location from Tom by beating it out of him?”

“That's my guess.”

I tried to figure out just what this meant. It was clear that the ramifications of this discovery were huge.

“If Tom said anything about you, you could be in danger, Sophie.”

The words from the note flashed in front of me.
I know why you'
re here. Leave town, or you'll be sorry.

“I—I can't leave, Donnie. I've barely begun. Tomorrow I should have my list finished. Then I can start eliminating people. I'm getting closer, and I won't stop now.”

There was a long silence. Finally, he said, “Okay. But be careful. Obviously, you've hit a nerve. I'm beginning to think you're on to something. Maybe Chase really is in Sanctuary.”

“I hope you're right.” Donnie's words bolstered my determination. “Thanks for calling. I appreciate your willingness to help me. I'd better get going. I've got a lot to do tonight, and it's getting late.”

“All right. Good night, Sophie.”

“Good night.”

After I hung up, I tried to concentrate on the task at hand, but my mind was unsettled. Actually, Donnie's information was encouraging. Someone certainly was interested in what I was doing. Was it because of Chase? Were they interested in the missing money? Or was it because I was getting too close to the long-wanted fugitive? The possibility thrilled me. I'd keep going, no matter what.

I sighed deeply, and Clyde looked up at me. “Sorry,” I said. He put his head back down, as if absolving me of disturbing his sleep.

Even though I felt I was on the right track, I had to face the fact that my initial strategy was spiraling out of control. I couldn't figure out what upset me most: Tom being attacked, Esther knowing the truth, the threatening note, or the realization that Jonathon was back in my life.

Although I didn't want to admit it, I knew the thing I feared most was Jonathon finding out who I really was. Seeing rejection in his eyes frightened me more than anything else.

The next morning, I slipped out of the house without telling Esther. She was already up, but I waited until she was in the back part of the house before I quietly snuck out the front door. I drove to The Whistle Stop and bought a large cup of coffee to go, hoping Jonathon ate breakfast at home. Mary stuck an apple fritter, hot out of the oven, into a paper bag and sent it with me, as well.

“You can't start the day off without something in your stomach,” she said as she handed me the sack.

When I tried to pay for it, she refused.

“Forget it. If my customers don't eat them, they're liable to find their way to my hips. You're actually doing me a favor.”

I laughed and took her gift. By the time I got to the church, I couldn't wait to eat it. The smell was driving me crazy.

I stopped by the office and found Pastor Troyer bent over his desk. “Thank you for letting me go through your records,” I told him when he looked up. “It's so helpful.”

He smiled. “I am happy to hear that. Maybe when you are
finished, you can share what you have discovered. I would love to research our history. I just never seem to find the time.”

I said I'd be happy to tell him what I found out about the Byler family. As I walked toward the stairs, I was grateful I'd been taking notes on the Bylers all the way through my research. Now I knew where the family had come from originally, when they arrived in Sanctuary, and the names of many of their relatives, even though I hadn't made it to Miriam and her sisters yet. At least it was enough to make Pastor Troyer think my time in his basement hadn't been wasted.

I entered the basement room, went to the desk, and got situated. Before I went to work, I drank some coffee and ate the apple fritter. It was hot, crispy, and delicious. If these were available near my apartment in St. Louis, I'd eat them every day. My waistline would certainly pay the price.

After downing enough coffee to finally feel awake, I got the last of the books out and set them on the edge of the desk. I'd stopped halfway through 2011, so I started where I'd left off. By lunchtime, I'd made good headway. I thought about running over to one of the restaurants and picking up a sandwich, but I was afraid I'd bump into Jonathon again. I finally decided to drive over to Esther's, get something to eat, and then come back and finish. I left the books out and hurried upstairs, not bothering to stop by Pastor Troyer's office.

When I pulled up to Esther's, I found another car parked in front of her house. A red Mini Cooper. For some reason, it seemed a strange choice for someone who was a friend of the elderly Mennonite woman. I went inside, hoping to pop in and out without having to talk to anyone. Those hopes
were dashed when I found Esther sitting in her living room, a man sprawled out on the couch next to her.

“Oh, Emily. I'm so glad you are here,” Esther said when I walked in. “I want you to meet my friend, Zac Weikel.”

The man stood up and stuck out his hand. He looked to be in his twenties, tall and thin, brown hair in a ponytail. “Nice to meet you, Emily.”

“You too,” I said. “Esther told me you might pop in.”

“Zac works for a television station in St. Louis.” Esther's pride in this fact was evident on her face.

“I'm a photog with KDSM. And I do some reporting when they let me.”

I felt the smile freeze on my face. A reporter? Esther hadn't told me her friend was a reporter. “Sounds like a great job,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“Sometimes it is. Last week I spent two days taking shots of crappie
not
spawning yet in Missouri. Very exciting.”

I laughed. “Sounds like it.”

“Esther tells me you're here doing some research into your family.”

“That's right. In fact, I've been going through some old records at the Mennonite church. I just came back to make a quick sandwich and head back to work. I don't want to interfere with your visit.”

“Oh, Zac's staying the weekend,” Esther announced. “You'll get plenty of time to get to know him.”

“Oh . . . great.” The entire weekend? That was the last thing I needed. I'd wanted to go over my list of names with Esther. There was no way to do that with Zac hanging around.

“Can I prepare your lunch?” Esther asked.

I shook my head. “Is it okay if I make something myself and take it back to the church?”

“Of course, dear. Help yourself to whatever you want.” She smiled at me. “Why don't we plan on the three of us having dinner together tonight?”

“That would be nice.” I really had no other choice. I couldn't eat dinner in town because of Jonathon.

I excused myself and ran upstairs. After using the bathroom, I stopped by my room and removed the new pages of names from my notebook. I'd accidentally torn one of the pages that morning and was afraid it might fall out. If that happened and someone found it, they'd probably wonder why the notes had nothing to do with the Byler family. For now, I felt better hiding what I was doing from prying eyes. After securing the new pages under my mattress, I felt much more relaxed. It was important to keep them someplace where Zac wouldn't stumble across them.

I hurried downstairs to the kitchen. Esther had been busy. The fridge was stuffed, probably for Zac's arrival. I finally settled on a turkey sandwich and a brownie. After packing my lunch in a brown paper bag and grabbing a bottle of pop, I checked the living room. Esther and Zac weren't there. I heard voices coming from the second floor. They must be in his room. I suddenly realized Zac and I would be together upstairs. Wonderful. All I could do was hope he'd leave me alone. I didn't want to be scrutinized by a reporter.

I scooted out of the house, got into my car, and drove back to the church. When I got there, I noticed Pastor Troyer's buggy was gone. Maybe he'd gone to lunch in town. Had he locked the church? I got out of my car and checked the front
door, breathing a sigh of relief when I discovered it was open. I stopped by Pastor Troyer's office anyway, thinking maybe his wife had taken the buggy, but no one was there.

Although it felt strange to be in the building alone, I headed downstairs. I'd been hoping I could get done today, but it looked as if I'd need at least one more day to make it through all the books. I felt an urge to hurry in case Chase really was in Sanctuary and was suspicious about me. What if he suddenly took off? I needed to work faster.

“Once again into the breach,” I whispered as I entered the door to the basement. Great, now I was talking to myself. “Stop it, Sophie,” I said without thinking. For some reason, saying my name felt good. I was tired of being Emily. I just wanted to get finished here and go back to my life. Since coming to Sanctuary, my world had been turned upside down. Even my affirmations weren't working anymore. I hadn't even listened to them today—and I didn't want to. “I need to get out of this place,” I said to no one.

Shaking my head and questioning the wisdom of having a conversation with myself, I sat down at the desk and opened my paper bag. I'd eaten half my sandwich before my stomach stopped growling. Ever since coming to Sanctuary, I'd been eating more than I ever did at home. Thankfully, my jeans still fit, but I'd have to leave Sanctuary before I turned back into that unhappy, overweight girl from Kingdom. I could feel her watching me. Waiting for the chance to take her life back. But that wasn't going to happen. I knew I'd blamed a lot of my insecurity on my weight. Over time, I'd learned that the real reason for my pain had been my shattered self-image. I'd met several very successful women at work who
were overweight, yet they were happy and self-confident. They didn't define themselves by the way they looked. They were self-assured in who they were as people. I wanted to be like them, but I wasn't there yet.

As I ate, I looked around the room. I'd been concentrating on the files, but there were a lot of other things stored down here. Although it was difficult to see clearly into the corners of the dark room, I spotted stacks of hymnals and other books on metal shelves that began in the middle of the room and stretched almost the entire length of the basement. Against the wall, there were folding chairs and tables and a couple of old wooden pews. The room reminded me of a library. Files and a desk on one side of the room, shelves with books and supplies on the other side. I thought about looking around some, but it was just too dark. The basement of a church shouldn't be intimidating, but for some reason, this one was.

I finished my sandwich, wolfed down my brownie, and drank about half of my pop before going back to work. I finished 2013 and started to work on the last book. Frankly, I had very little confidence that Chase would have come here after 2012, but I felt I should go through everything. I didn't want to leave any stone unturned. Besides, I still needed to know who had left Sanctuary in the last few years. That could be very important if I had to look for Chase somewhere else.

I worked as quickly as I could. I only had one more year to go, but my eyes were shot. I put all the books back in the filing cabinet, making sure they were in order, then I cleaned up the desk and took a moment to glance around the room once again. Even though it was a little spooky, it had been a welcome place to hide from the people in Sanctuary. Especially
Jonathon. I took a deep breath and stared at the door. One more day here, and I'd be done. After that, Esther's house would be the only place I could hide. But now Zac was there. Couldn't he have waited another week to visit?

With a sigh, I picked up my purse, turned off the desk lamp, and had started for the door when the dim light overhead turned off. I jumped, almost dropping my purse. The room was plunged into total darkness. Although I wanted to believe it was a power failure, I'd heard the distinct
click
of the light switch before everything went black. Someone was in the room with me.

“Who's there?” I called out. My voice was thin and high, powered by fear. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, and I had to take a deep breath because I suddenly felt light-headed.

There was no answer.

I put my hand out in an attempt to hold on to something, but I felt only air. Trying to see the room again in my mind, I moved slowly to my left until my fingers touched one of the metal shelves. I couldn't see anything, but maybe whoever was in here couldn't find their way around any better than I could. I gently set my purse on the nearby shelf so my hands would be free.

“This isn't funny. Please, who's in here with me?”

Although I knew it was probably a waste of time to call out again, a part of me wanted to believe Pastor Troyer had a weird sense of humor and thought scaring people in the basement might make them more amenable to church. Of course, I knew that was a long shot. The note I'd received yesterday suddenly seemed much more ominous.

I felt my way to the end of the shelving and moved as quietly as I could around the unit. Then I crouched down, trying to hide, although the person in the room with me would have to be wearing night-vision goggles if he had any chance of seeing me. After what seemed like hours but was probably only a few minutes, I heard a noise. It was close. Not knowing what else to do, I felt my way to the next aisle. I suddenly remembered a small flashlight I kept for emergencies in my purse. As much as I wanted it, trying to go back seemed like a really dumb thing to do. Panic had seized my body, and I couldn't stop shaking. Although I was trying to be quiet, it was difficult to keep my breathing slow and silent. I wanted to take big gulps of air, but I couldn't risk letting anyone hear me.

Another noise. It seemed to be coming from behind me somewhere. I stood up and began to feel my way along the shelves again, trying to get closer to the door. My fingers touched something on the shelf. I couldn't tell what it was, but it felt like a candlestick. Metal, heavy, and probably the best thing I could find down here to use as a weapon. I picked it up slowly, trying to be as quiet as possible. I made an effort to calm myself and figure out just where I was. If my calculations were correct, I was between the first and second rows of shelving—and about halfway down the row. That meant the door should only be about twenty feet away. Not knowing what else to do, I decided to make a run for it. I wanted my car keys so I could get to my car and drive away, but the keys were in my purse. Pastor Troyer should be in his office now, but that wasn't very comforting. Since I had no idea who was after me, I probably shouldn't count on the slight, skinny Mennonite pastor being able to subdue him.

I waited several seconds but didn't hear anything more. Then, after taking another deep breath, I moved as quickly as I could, still holding on to the shelf so I wouldn't get lost in the dark. At the end of the shelf, I let go and headed toward what I hoped was the door. I held the candlestick in one hand and kept my other hand in front of me. I felt something hard, but it wasn't the door. It was the concrete wall. Surely the door was just a few feet to my right. I began to fumble my way along the wall, but before I could find the door, I stumbled over something on the floor and fell to my knees. Then a burst of pain exploded in my head, and I felt myself drift away.