Shadows of Lancaster County (35 page)

I swerved to avoid a patch of ice and lowered my speed on the hilly road.

“I’m sorry, Reed. I never understood any of that. I had put you up on
such a pedestal, and when I realized you did drugs, the pedestal toppled. If I hadn’t stuck you up on there in the first place, maybe I would have been more understanding when I learned you were human.”

“Well, thanks for being kind, but that was more than just being human. What I did was wrong and really, really stupid. Offering pot to a minor? For that alone I deserved every minute I spent in prison. I really wasn’t a very good person back then, Anna.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Reed,” I said softly. “After all, you were good enough to make me fall in love with you.”

“I don’t know how. I hate who I was then, always putting myself first, so spoiled and selfish and bored with life.”

“You don’t seem to be any of those things anymore. What changed you, Reed?”

With dismay, I realized that we had reached the farm. Slowing, I put on my blinker, turned into the driveway, and pulled toward the house.

“The same thing that changed all of us, I guess. But that’s a long story, better saved for another day.”

I hoped another day would come soon, because I really did want to hear about all that he had learned and done since the day he turned to look at me in the courtroom, his eyes filled with regret.

In the dark and silent driveway, I softly thanked Reed for coming to my rescue earlier tonight, not to mention joining me for dinner and safely seeing me home. Whispering in the stillness, I asked him if it felt weird to be back here, standing beside the very house we once caused to burn. He seemed surprised by the question.

“Oh, Anna, I’ve been back dozens of times since then. In fact, I’d say Grete and Nathaniel are among my most treasured friends.”

As if to prove his point, the door suddenly opened to reveal Nathaniel, still dressed at this late hour and holding a lantern. Smiling broadly, he came out and gave Reed a warm handshake and a brotherly hug. After several minutes of quiet conversation, they said goodnight and we parted ways.

Inside, the house was quiet, everyone else in bed. At the top of the stairs, Nathaniel handed me a flashlight and bid me goodnight before
opening the door to the bedroom he shared with his wife. In a whisper, I thanked him for waiting up for me.

“Think nothing of it,” he replied, not seeming the least bit annoyed that it was so late, despite the fact that he had been up since before dawn, worked a full day, and would have to repeat the same thing tomorrow.

Feeling oddly nervous in the dark, silent house, I lit the lantern beside the bed and gathered my things. Holding the flashlight in slightly shaky hands, I crept back downstairs to the bathroom where I brushed my teeth and dressed for bed as quickly as I could.

Stepping back out of the bathroom, I paused in the darkness, listening to the sounds of the night. This old farmhouse creaked ever so slightly, and I could hear the gentle hiss of the woodstove, the ticking of the clock.

Despite my serious case of nerves, I wanted to take a peek inside the ceramic jar in the kitchen, the one I had seen Lydia use as a hiding place this morning. Bravely, I tiptoed across the floor, wincing at every creak my footsteps made, and as quietly as I could lifted the lid. I pointed my flashlight down inside, but I knew immediately that whatever she had put in there was gone now. The jar was empty but for a few cookie crumbs at the bottom.

Back upstairs and safely buried under the covers, my mind wandered back to the conversation Reed and I had had in the car. I was still astounded to learn that once upon a time he had cared for me too. Somehow, just knowing that, even if I never saw him again after this week, made all the difference in how I felt about him—and, more importantly, how I felt about myself. All those years ago, I hadn’t been some pathetic lovelorn idiot. I had been responding in kind to a man who loved me too.

The next morning dawned less brightly than the one before. Sitting up in the bed, I pulled the simple green shade to the side and peered out at the sky. Gloomy and gray, it looked as if it might snow today. I had a lot to do, including Doug’s wake this afternoon in Hidden Springs, so I really hoped it wouldn’t. At least Reed had offered to drive us there together.

Gazing out at the frozen landscape, I thought of what the snow might mean for Bobby, on the chance that he was out there somewhere, cold and hurt and alone. In the past few days, so that I could better focus on my
investigation, I had tried not to dwell on whatever sufferings he might be going through. But now an image suddenly filled my mind, that of him lying somewhere in the darkness, crying out for help with no one around to hear. Thinking of the keys I’d found in his locker, I decided it was time to take things up a notch.

I was ready to do whatever it took to find my brother, once and for all.

I was about to drop the shade again when I noticed movement out toward the henhouse. It was Grete, wearing a black cape over her Amish dress, and in her hand she carried what looked like the same small item I had caught her with in the kitchen yesterday. When she reached the door of the hen house, she looked to the right and then to the left, almost guiltily, as if she wanted to make sure she wasn’t being observed. I pulled back from the window, afraid her eyes might travel up this way, and then peeked out again a moment later to see her slipping inside the building. Even with the window closed, I could hear the disturbance among the chickens as they clacked and squawked. A moment later, she reemerged, hands empty, and headed back toward the house. I didn’t know what all of that was about, but I hoped to have the opportunity to find out later.

Despite the cold of the bathroom, I decided to take a quick shower. At least the water was nice and warm. I wasn’t sure how they did that, but I had a feeling it was heated with some source of Amish-approved fuel such as propane or gasoline.

Once I was dressed in sweater and slacks, ready to go, I came downstairs to find Lydia and Isaac sitting at the kitchen table, their bodyguard standing near the window. Lydia was sipping coffee and reading her Bible, and Isaac was drawing pictures. Lydia told me that everyone else was at church.

“Church,” I echoed, for the first time realizing it was a Sunday. Suddenly, more than anything, that was where I wanted to be too. For just one blessed hour, I wanted to sit in God’s house and focus on nothing else but my Savior.

“We’re sticking close to home today,” Lydia added, giving me a knowing
look over Isaac’s head. We both knew that as much as she wanted to go, it wouldn’t be safe.

She offered me breakfast, but I declined, saying I needed to get rolling. Outside, I spotted several cars parked at the end of the driveway, so I took Reed’s advice and didn’t attempt to elude the press. Instead, I gave a small wave as I pulled onto the road, and soon I realized that several of them had jumped into their cars and were following me.

I had one very private errand to run today, but before I did that, I needed the strength and encouragement a good Sunday service would provide. Not knowing where else to go, I drove to downtown Dreiheit to my grandparents’ old church, one that held many happy memories for me. Once there, I pulled into the parking lot, and by the time I got out of the car, three different reporters were rushing toward me.

“Have you had contact from your brother, Miss Jensen?”

“Annalise, where have you been all these years?”

“Are you romantically involved with Reed Thornton?”

“I’m sorry, but I’ll have to answer your questions later, when I have more time,” I said sweetly, and then I walked toward the building and pushed through the doors, one backward glance confirming they weren’t going to follow me inside. Choosing a seat near the back of the sanctuary, I forced myself to forget everything else that was going on and focus on the music, the prayers, and the sermon.

Coming to church had been the right decision, I decided as we stood to sing the closing hymn. After all I had been through in the last few days, all the questions that were swirling around in my mind, all the heartache and concern and frustration and fear, it had felt good to let that go and simply focus on God. I thanked Him for the privilege of worship and asked Him to help me remember its importance even in the midst of trouble.

When the service was over, I made my way to the front of the sanctuary and through the double doors into the Sunday school building. I felt guilty using church as a cover, but I knew the reporters were probably still waiting for me out front, and I wasn’t ready to be followed again just yet.

Ducking down a side hall to avoid a group of people congregating near a coffee machine, I managed to get all the way to the back of the building
without incident. Once there, I pulled my hat down over my hair, turned up my coat collar, and stepped outside, glad to see that no one was around. Trying not to look suspicious, I took off jogging.

By my calculations, the WIRE was just six blocks away.

I wasn’t too winded by the time I got there, but my heart was pounding strongly, nonetheless. Trying not to look suspicious, I jogged to the back of the building, made sure there were no cars in the parking lot, and then I stopped at the door and pulled out my key ring. Hands trembling, I tried the keys I had found in Bobby’s locker, gasping when the biggest one slipped easily into the lock and turned. Moving into the dark building, I quickly looked around for an alarm but didn’t see one. Considering the technology housed here, I knew there had to be something. Before I could decide whether to stay or to go, a flash of light streaked through the darkness. Terrified, I spun around to see that it had come from the sun glinting off the shiny silver bumper of a black Mercedes just pulling to a stop outside.

Dr. Updyke.

Heart pounding, I opened the nearest door and slipped inside, realizing once I was there that I was in a mop closet. With the stench of cleaners burning my eyes, I forced myself to freeze. Watching through a crack in the door, I saw the doctor step inside, followed by his teenage son.

“Catch the alarm, would you?” Dr. Updyke said as he flipped on the light and moved down the hall.

“What’s the code?” the boy called after him.

“Four four seven one three.”

As I watched, the kid flipped open a metal box next to the telephone and punched in the numbers. Then he grabbed a magazine from the nearby counter, sat in a chair, and waited for his father.

Part of me was sighing in relief that I hadn’t been caught; the other part was still holding my breath, wondering how long they would be there and if I would be able to remain hidden until they were gone.

“Hurry up, Dad! Practice starts in ten minutes!”

His father didn’t reply, but after a short while he reappeared, a small stack of manila files tucked under his arm.

“All right, let’s go.”

After re-enabling the alarm, he flipped off the light, stepped outside, and locked the door.

I didn’t know what to do next. On the one hand, I had been given the code to the security system like a free gift out of the blue. On the other hand, the doctor could just be running his son over to the high school and coming right back, in which case I could still get caught.

Summoning my nerve, I stepped out of the closet, crossed to the metal box, and punched in 44713. Then I gave myself exactly two minutes to dash through the building to see if I could locate the file cabinet my round key would unlock. Whether I found anything or not, I told myself, I wasn’t sticking around.

Fortunately, I spotted a small sign on a door near the back of the first hall I went down, one that simply said “Archives.” The door was locked, but the second key on Bobby’s ring turned as easily as the first had on the back door.

The archive room was dark and smelled of old paper. From what I could tell by peering through the shadows, there weren’t any outside windows here, so I took a chance and flipped on the light.

I quickly surveyed the room, which held rows of metal cabinets. With just a minute and a half left, I kept moving. Scanning the room, I could see that a number of the filing cabinets had no locks on them at all. Moving forward, I looked at each row until I reached the back of the room. There stood a wall of locked Steelcase filing cabinets, each with a round keyhole. As quickly as possible, I tried the key on them one by one, finally finding success on the fifth try.

With just thirty seconds left, I opened the top drawer and looked at the contents, which seemed to be organized by last name. There wasn’t time to go through any files now, so I simply scanned the labels, looking for anything familiar. Under “Jensen,” my heart raced to see that there was one file, which I pulled. After that, nothing else seemed relevant until I got to the name “Schumann,” which was written on three different files. Grabbing all three, I slid the drawer shut. My self-appointed time was up.

As I crossed back toward the door, I tucked all four files under the
waistband of my slacks, smoothing my shirt and coat into place over them. Once I had turned off the light and locked the door, I sprinted up the hall toward the back entrance.

I stopped at the corner and peeked around it toward the door, but I didn’t see anything in the parking lot outside. Steeling my nerve, I reactivated the alarm, stepped outside, pulled the door shut, and made sure it had locked behind me.

Taking off, I jogged along the back of the empty body shop next door, avoiding the main road for as long as I could. The coast seemed clear, no black Mercedes in sight, so finally I dashed across the street and ducked between two buildings to get to the next block. When I finally neared the church, I slowed my run to a walk, trying to catch my breath in the cold morning air. It wasn’t until I was back inside the Sunday school building and making my way toward a front exit that the magnitude of what I had just done hit me.

In pursuit of the truth, I hadn’t simply gone “sneaking and peeking,” as Kiki liked to call what skip tracers did. I had actually let myself into a medical lab using keys that weren’t mine, gone through restricted files, and removed four of those files from the premises. There was no other way to say it.