Amish Country Murder (Love Inspired Suspense)

by Mary Alford

  Sutter thanked her and stepped away, unable to sit. Too much at stake. He wanted to speak to their victim quickly. Find out what she could tell them about the Dead of Night Killer.

  The elevator dinged. Both Sutter and James whirled at the sound. The doors slid open, and a tall, middle-aged man in a white coat stepped out and glanced around. Spotting them, he headed their way as Sutter suppressed a smile. He and James obviously fit the part of government agents.

  “Dr. Rolland?” Sutter asked, once the man reached them.

  He nodded. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “Special Agents Brenneman and Pennington. We’re here about the gunshot victim who was brought in earlier.”

  “Come with me. We can talk on the way.” The doctor headed for the elevator. Sutter and James scrambled to keep up.

  The doors opened, and all three men stepped inside the elevator.

  “The two Amish boys who took her to the hospital probably saved her life.” Dr. Rolland spared them a look. “They were night fishing when she fell into the creek. I assumed you’d want to speak with them, as well, so I asked them to stay.” He punched the third-floor button. “We removed a bullet from her left shoulder. A few inches lower and it would be a different story. She’s awake now. All she’s been able to tell us is her first name. Catherine. She doesn’t remember her last, or any family members to contact.” The doctor spotted Sutter’s shock and added, “As I said, she’s suffered a lot and she took quite a blow to her head. I believe Catherine is suffering from a form of temporary amnesia.”

  The reality of those words washed over him. This was the last thing Sutter wanted to hear. Their victim couldn’t recall parts of what happened to her. Without her help, they had nothing.

  The silence in the elevator car was palpable. Sutter glanced at his phone. Almost midnight. He thought about all the questions he should be asking. “You have the bullet? We’ll need it for evidence.”

  The doors slid open and the doctor stepped out. “Yes, we preserved it, along with the scarf she had around her neck.”

  “Good.” All Sutter could think about were the horrific things the victim must have gone through. And the realization that she would have to relive it all telling him. Moving beyond something of this magnitude wouldn’t be easy.

  Two young boys dressed in Amish clothing sat in the waiting area. Both appeared to be in their early teens. The sight of their traditional garb sent Sutter’s heart back in time. At one point, this could have been him. Was him.

  “I’ll take the kids,” James said.

  “Okay. Call Sheriff Collins. I need a deputy outside Catherine’s room in case this guy tries to finish the job.”

  James nodded and headed to the boys to introduce himself.

  The doctor stopped outside one of the rooms and faced Sutter. “I know you have questions, and it’s important to solve this case quickly, but she’s weak and frightened. Catherine’s suffered a lot of bad things at this creep’s hands. Keep that in mind.”

  Not waiting for an answer, the doctor pushed the door open. A second ticked by before Sutter followed.

  A nurse who had been seated beside the patient rose.

  “Will you give us a minute, Beverly?” Dr. Rolland asked. The nurse squeezed Catherine’s hand and left without a word.

  His first reaction when he stepped into the room was that she appeared so small and fragile against the pillows. Bruises covered much of her face and arms, along with cut marks. Sutter stuffed down his anger at the sight of them. The killer’s weapon of choice for torture had proved to be the knife. For murder, he preferred a gunshot at close range. It probably gave him a thrill to watch his victim’s life slip away before his eyes.

  Catherine’s raven hair appeared matted with blood. A white gauze bandage covered part of her head, and the dressing on the gunshot wound in her shoulder peeked out from under her hospital gown. According to Dr. Rolland, she was fortunate to be alive.

  Six other women had died in unspeakable ways at the hands of this monster. When he grew tired of them, he shot them, then disposed of the bodies somewhere he knew they’d be found quickly. He left his calling cards on each victim’s body: the white silk scarf and the note. Glued on red paper, the letters were cut out from what they believed to be a magazine. The abuse, along with the cause of death, showed the killer’s rage with someone. The only question was who?

  With very few leads, the pressure to find the killer before he struck again increased each day.

  “Catherine, this is Special Agent Sutter Brenneman. He’s with the FBI. If you’re feeling up to it, he’d like to ask you some questions.” Dr. Rolland turned to Sutter. “She’s been through a lot and needs to rest. Don’t tire her out too much. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll bring you the evidence.” With a smile for his patient, the doctor left Sutter to his questions.

  Catherine stared up at him with huge, frightened eyes so piercingly blue he found it hard to look away. Pale as the sheet she clutched, her face reflected the extent of what she’d suffered. Anger mingled with protective instincts rose inside Sutter. An instant connection he couldn’t begin to explain tugged him toward her like a magnetic force.

  Pulling his gaze away, he dragged over a chair. The noise immediately put Catherine on edge and she shrank back.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologized, regretting his actions. She didn’t trust him. Probably didn’t trust anyone. As much as Sutter needed to take her statement down, he’d seen her fear and hated the questions he must ask.

  “How are you feeling?” he began, hoping to put her at ease.

  She lifted one shoulder. “I am alive, Agent Brenneman, so I’m feeling blessed.”

  He smiled at her ability to hold on to that outlook. She’d almost died at the hands of a monster, and yet she still possessed the power to see the good.

  “Please, call me Sutter,” he said.

  Her forehead wrinkled, almost as if she were trying to pull out something from her memory and couldn’t. She dropped her attention to her hands. He regretted that his presence made her nervous.

  Sutter opened his notepad. “I know this is hard for you, Catherine. We’ll take it slow. If you need a break, let me know. I want you to answer each question the best you can. Okay?” he asked gently.

  Again she nodded, but her body grew tense.

  “First, Dr. Rolland tells me you weren’t able to remember your last name?”

  Once more, her frightened eyes locked onto his. A breath burst from her body while dozens of questions flew through his head.

  “That’s right,” she said in a whisper.

  Dread crawled into the pit of Sutter’s stomach.

  “Can you tell me where you live?”

  A deep frown marred the skin between her brows as she shook her head. Sutter did his best not to show the alarm growing inside him.

  “The doctor mentioned he believed you’re suffering from temporary amnesia.” He pointed to the bandage. “I’m sure in time your memories will return. In the meantime, we’ll take a photo of you and see if we can identify you from it.”

  She seemed to grow more uncomfortable at the prospect of having her photo taken. Did she have a record? While his cop instinct didn’t believe it, they’d have to check it out. All the other victims had lived in Eagle’s Nest. Some went to school. Others worked. None had a criminal record.

  Catherine pleated the sheet nervously while Sutter’s sinking feeling grew. She was all they had to find a serial killer. Would her memories return in time to save another victim?

  “I know this is hard, but I need you to try to remember the man who took you. What did he look like? Where did he keep you hostage?”

  Her lips trembled as she explained about the frightening basement and the monster who hid behind a mask she’d caught only a glimpse of after removing her blindfold. The ki
ller had made sure she couldn’t identify him.

  “He enjoyed my pain. When I screamed or showed fear, he laughed.”

  Sutter stuffed down his rage at anyone treating her so cruelly. He had to stay focused. Couldn’t let emotions take control. They needed to catch this villain before he harmed anyone else.

  “What can you tell me about his build? Was he tall? Short?” He kept his attention on her expressive face and wondered if she had any idea how strong she truly was to have escaped the Dead of Night Killer.

  “Tall. At least that was my impression. He was taller than me and I am pretty tall. But he wasn’t heavy or thin.” She shrugged. “I’d say somewhere in between.”

  Sutter leaned forward and smiled. “You’re doing great. Do you need a break?” he asked. He didn’t want to push her too hard.

  She shook her head. “I just want to get through this.”

  He understood the wish. After interviewing many victims throughout his career, he knew reliving the pain they’d suffered was never an easy thing.

  “Alright. You said his face was hidden, but his eyes were dark. Do you remember anything else about him?”

  Catherine fisted her hands at her sides and pulled in a breath. Her terror appeared etched on her face, all but guaranteeing she would never be the same again, and his heart broke for her. Like the other victims, she hadn’t asked to be a player in a psychopath’s macabre game.

  “I remember that he smelled like smoke.”

  Sutter stopped writing. “You mean like cigarette smoke?”

  “No, more like wood smoke.” She stopped for a breath. “And there was a dog. It started barking whenever the man returned...” She didn’t finish. Didn’t need to. He understood that’s when the torture would begin.

  “Do you recall how many days you were in the basement?”

  Placing a hand against her temple, Catherine closed her eyes for a moment. “I think one, but it’s all a blur. I was in and out of consciousness.”

  If she’d been gone for more than a day, why hadn’t someone reported her missing by now?

  Sutter jotted down her answer. “What happened earlier? How did you manage to escape?”

  She straightened her back. “I would not be alive now if it weren’t for Divine intervention,” she said with conviction, and stared into space as she started recounting the events. Sutter admired her faith. At one time, his had been as strong.

  “I heard him pulling into the garage. He came down to the basement and I knew what was coming.” She shuddered visibly.

  Sutter listening intently as she described how she’d tried to free the rope from her ankle but wasn’t able to. Finding the knife had saved her.

  Catherine stopped to gather breath.

  “I know this is difficult, but you’re doing great,” he assured her. “How long do you think you were in the car?”

  Her forehead wrinkled. “I’m not sure. I woke up before he stopped. When he opened the trunk, I kicked him as hard as I could and ran.”

  And then the killer had shot her. She’d almost died.

  Sutter closed the pad. “Do you know where you were when he took you?”

  Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. “I don’t remember anything from before I woke up in that basement...” Her voice broke into a sob.

  In an instant, Sutter’s sinking feeling morphed into distress. He couldn’t imagine what she was going through, not knowing who she was.

  “Dr. Rolland believes your loss of memory is due to the blow to the head and will clear up in time.” Sutter hoped to sound convincing, but he was really worried. For her. For the next victim. “Why don’t I get the doctor for you.” He stepped out into the hall to search for the doctor and spotted him coming his way.

  “Is Catherine okay?” Dr. Rolland asked, correctly reading Sutter’s reaction.

  “She’s pretty upset about her loss of memory.”

  “That’s understandable. Let me examine Catherine further and then I’ll speak with you again.” With a pat on Sutter’s shoulder, he went inside.

  Running a hand across his eyes in frustration, Sutter paced the hallway in front of her door.

  None of the other victims had been struck in the head. Why Catherine? Had she fought back?

  When the doctor came back out a short time later, Sutter hurried over to him. “Is she okay?” he asked.

  Dr. Rolland nodded. “I believe so. In time, with rest and a safe environment, Catherine’s memories will return. She was pretty keyed up, so I gave her something to help her sleep. I’ll check back in a little while. In the meantime, I’m sure she’d appreciate a friendly face when she wakes.” He smiled before heading down the hall.

  Sutter slipped back inside Catherine’s room. Her eyes were closed. Though she appeared at peace, he understood how difficult the road ahead would be for her.

  He snapped a photo of her and sent it to Sheriff Collins to have him show it around the area. Hopefully, someone would recognize Catherine soon.

  Too restless to sit, Sutter moved to the window and stared out as a perfect spring morning dawned. The mountains in the distance drew him in. He’d worked in lots of different locations, but here in the wild Montana countryside, he felt God’s presence. It made him wish he didn’t have doubts. And anger.

  The things Catherine had said rattled around in his head. She believed God had brought her out of the Dead of Night Killer’s clutches. The mention of God suggested she was religious. He’d have Sheriff Collins ask around at the local churches. Maybe someone would remember her there.

  A whisper of a sound came from the woman in the bed. Who was she? How had the villain managed to take her? And more importantly, why hadn’t someone reported her missing by now?

  Dr. Rolland had said she came in dressed in jeans and a tattered white T-shirt, her feet bare. The doctor believed she’d been in good health before her capture.

  Each minute that passed without them being able to identify the killer reminded Sutter that the Dead of Night Killer was out there somewhere, probably trolling for his next victim.

  Outside the room, an unusual amount of activity seemed to be taking place. A sense of unease sped up Sutter’s spine. He opened the door and glanced around. The nurses’ station appeared to be abandoned, while a crowd of medical personnel had gathered near one of the rooms down the hall.

  He craned his neck to see what was happening, and fear took control when he spotted what was causing the commotion. Smoke billowed from inside the room. A fire. In his heart, he didn’t believe it was an accident.

  A sound sent him whirling, in time to find a man in green scrubs and a medical mask nearly on top of him. Something jabbed into his neck. He reached for it and yanked it out. A syringe. Trying to process what was taking place, Sutter grabbed for the man. The world swam before his eyes and his legs buckled.

  He was vaguely aware of being shoved into the room, then tossed across it, hitting the floor hard. Catherine. He needed to protect her, but he couldn’t get his body to cooperate. Sutter tried to stand. Fell back, his legs jelly. Soon, his thoughts began to fade.

  The last coherent one was that the killer had tracked her to the hospital, determined to finish the job. Sutter had promised to protect her and was now powerless to do so.

  TWO

  Catherine’s eyes flew open. Panicked, she scanned the room. Something woke her, but she wasn’t sure what. Sunlight streamed in. The hospital... She was in the hospital. Next to the window, something lay crumpled on the floor. A man. She recognized him. It was the FBI agent she’d spoken to earlier. He wasn’t moving.

  Her heartbeat accelerated. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement nearby. Someone else was in the room. She jerked toward the person just as a pillow was shoved over her face, cutting off her oxygen.

  He’d found her again.

  Catherine tried
to scream. No sound came out. Not like this. She wouldn’t die like this. Not without fighting him all the way. With her limbs flailing, she grabbed for her attacker’s arms, frantic to save her life. Scratching and clawing, she fought with all her fading strength.

  He snarled in anger and pressed down harder. Her nails raked across his skin. Drew blood. He yanked his arm out of her reach. With all the strength she could muster, Catherine kicked him hard. He yelped before he pressed the pillow down with renewed force.

  She could feel the last breaths leaving her body. Then the pressure eased. The sound of equipment being knocked around was followed by thuds and a scuffle. She pulled the pillow off her face.

  After coughing and sucking in air, she screamed as loudly as she could, but her voice was nonexistent.

  Catherine watched in horror as Sutter struggled with the man who’d attacked her. His face was partially covered by a medical mask and he was dressed in scrubs like a doctor. The man had a gun in his hand. She recognized it. The same one he’d used on her.

  “No!” She yelled as forcefully as she could, but it came out as barely a whisper. The man shoved Sutter off him and tried to reach the door. The agent tackled him from behind. Both men hit the floor, momentum sent them sliding. Sutter slugged the man hard several times, but he barely flinched, as if he were indestructible. As the two fought, the attacker swung the gun in his hand. It slammed against Sutter’s temple before the agent had time to react. He collapsed unconscious on the floor.

  The masked man heaved himself to his feet and shoved the gun into the waistband of his pants. Then he strode toward her, his rage was as terrifying as ever.

  “No, please,” Catherine murmured, and held her arms up in front of her. He yanked them down with one hand while the other circled her neck and choked hard.

  Catherine stared into eyes filled with pure evil, and a single tear slipped from her eye to the pillow below. The one thought chasing through her mind was that if she died, they might never be able to catch this man. With darkness closing in, her body urged her to give up. Let it happen. She couldn’t.