Finding Mercy

by Karen Harper

  “I’d like that, but if you have other tasks now, I can do it. I need to stay busy. But I can use your help making sachets for favors at Ray-Lynn and the sheriff’s wedding, even if it’s a ways off—October, I hear.”

  “By the way, Hannah came over to help too, more than once. She and Seth have been really worried about you.”

  “I can’t wait to see everyone, especially little Marlena. I’d better thank the sheriff and Ray-Lynn again before they leave,” she said, hurrying back toward the car. Somehow just standing at the edge of her lavender field had given her strength and purpose. The herb might be known for inducing rest and sleep, but she felt alert and energized now, despite her physical exhaustion.

  Somehow, she was going to help the sheriff figure out who could have dragged her up that hill above the field. She was going to read the papers and even try to watch TV somewhere when Alex testified at the SkyBound trial. And she was—she knew not where or how—going to find the strength to hide and treasure her love for that man, even if she never saw him again.

  * * *

  “Okay, you got that all straight?” Logan asked. “You’ll be cross-examined ad infinitum about the timeline, both what happened here and on your two visits to China.”

  They were in the second safe house Logan had found from rental apartments in want ads. Strewn all over the floor were their charts and prep notes for the trial. Every now and then they’d stop planning and Logan would grill Alex on different aspects of his testimony as if he were the defense lawyer. They’d been at this for the two weeks since Ella had left to return to Ohio, which seemed an eternity away from her.

  Alex hit the bathroom and when he returned, Logan had taken a call on his cell phone. He wondered if it was his wife, who called a couple of times a day on cheap phones she then disposed of. They always kept it short so the calls could not be traced. He wished he could talk to Ella. He missed her terribly, her common sense, her caring, her mixture of naïveté and savvy. He longed to hold her, finish what he’d started so many times in his heart and mind but never enough in reality.

  “You won’t believe this,” Logan said as he punched off his phone. “Claire just got a call from my office. You’re going to be subpoenaed to testify before Congress after the trial about economic espionage as it affects Chinese-U.S. relationships.”

  “Oh, great, just great,” Alex muttered.

  “I thought you’d be pleased. It will lend credence to your character and this case. I don’t care if Boynton has pleaded not guilty to peddling trade secrets to the Chinese, this boost to your prestige is going to make him look guilty. And the government should get on this since losses from theft of intellectual property cost U.S. companies about four hundred fifty-plus billion lately! No wonder corporations are now hiring security firms staffed by former CIA or FBI agents.”

  “I know, I know, but a couple of things,” Alex said, raising both hands as if to head off another lawyer’s speech. “First, of course, I’ll do my duty to testify before Congress. I was just hoping not to get this more strung out, that’s all.”

  “Places to go and people to see, right? Alex, you’re crazy if you do more than thank the Amish for hiding you.”

  He decided to ignore that. He lost most arguments with Logan Reese, which was why he figured others would too. It was part of the reason he’d hired him in the first place.

  “Secondly,” Alex went on, “that security firm connection is something I’ve been thinking about. A former FBI agent, disgruntled now, I hear, kept turning up in the Home Valley. Can you call Sheriff Freeman and see if he knows the name of Lincoln Armstrong’s security firm? Maybe it had links to SkyBound or Marv in some way. If so, Marv Boynton could have hired Armstrong on the side to shut me up, in the Home Valley at least. He could be the one who abducted Ella. Armstrong knows the Amish area and the people, even threatened her once, although he made it sound as if she was just getting in his way of a woman he wanted.”

  “An Amish woman? Why do I think this is getting to be a plague that’s spreading fast among us…what do they call us? Us British?”

  “British? Oh, you mean English. The Amish call outsiders English from the old days when they were persecuted and martyred.”

  “Okay, English. That’s their problem in a nutshell, though, isn’t it? They cling to the past.”

  “It’s their strength too, and they do know how to adapt when necessary, or Ella would never have gone home in a plane. Let me use your phone, and I’ll call Sheriff Freeman, all right?”

  “Sure. Then ‘heigh-ho, heigh-ho,’ it’s back to work we go.”

  Alex took Logan’s phone and walked into the other room. He’d ask Jack Freeman what all he knew about Linc Armstrong. And it gave him an excuse to learn how Ella was doing, because the Home Valley police had promised to keep a good eye on her. He’d have to keep the call short. They were paranoid about calls being traced, even hiding out like they were in Brooklyn right now.

  The receptionist he reached said the sheriff was out on a call and couldn’t be patched through but he could speak with Deputy Win Hayes if he wanted to leave a message right now. “Sure, okay,” Alex said.

  “Alex Caldwell? Deputy Winston Hayes here. This is an honor to speak with you, sir. We’re all pulling for you. You’re a hero around here. I was just at the Lantzes’ earlier today, and they’re all doing fine. Their grandmother’s coming home by bus this afternoon, and they’re excited about that. I know better than to ask you where you are, but what can the sheriff or I do for you?”

  As Alex explained, the what can I do for you question kept rattling through his brain. He didn’t want to be a hero to the Amish or anyone else. He wanted to do what was right and stay alive and see Ella again. What can I do for you? He longed to say, Take care of my girl, keep her safe. And tell her I’d rather be with her and her family, instead of facing any congressman or -woman in the entire United States.

  26

  Mid-September, two-and-one-half months later

  “HARD TO BELIEVE a lavender farmer has become a student of corporate and economic espionage,” Ella told Barbara as they each carried a big box filled with nearly one hundred small lavender sachets from their buggy to Ray-Lynn’s house. It was just two weeks before the wedding, a brisk early morning, but light outside, since Ella never went out after dark now. She knew Ray-Lynn would soon be heading for the restaurant.

  “That trial Andrew is the key witness in is all too complicated and worldly for me,” Barbara admitted, as she managed to juggle her box and ring the doorbell.

  “Here are the favors for the wedding guests,” Ella said, announcing the obvious as Ray-Lynn opened the door for them. The two of them had become close friends. Ray-Lynn had tried to keep an eye on her and lift her spirits. She’d received only two short handwritten notes from Alex, telling her he was all right and to take care of herself. One had been postmarked from North Carolina and one from California, no less, so she assumed they’d been mailed by lawyers in Reese Logan’s firm who were traveling.

  “Of course,” Ella added, “if you have other copies of The Plain Dealer, I’ll take them with me.”

  “Those smell heavenly, even in closed-up boxes!” Ray-Lynn said, inhaling deeply with her eyes closed. “And yes, I’ve saved you the articles, although it’s only been a day since you picked up the last ones. Come in here, you two,” she said, and closed the door behind them. “I want you to see my wedding gown. Sarah did a drawing for a tailor in Wooster, who made it for me. I got the directions online from a Civil War reenactment website. The petticoats alone may do me in!”

  In a spare bedroom, they gasped to see a wire dummy dressed in a pale green taffeta gown with a tight bodice, puffy sleeves and huge skirts.

  Barbara said, “Lots of legroom, but are you sure you can breathe in that?”

  “I’ve been floating on air ever since Jack Freeman proposed, and I’ll float down the aisle in this,” Ray-Lynn said with a sigh. She launched into an explanation of corse
ts and crinolines, but Ella’s mind drifted again.

  She’d tried hard to keep up with Alex’s trial, but she felt like that dummy: things hung heavy on her and she was empty without Alex. She struggled to grasp distant, detailed things like wire fraud, punitive tariffs, money laundering, intellectual property and illegal currency manipulation. Why did they use all that fancy talk? Perjury was lying, espionage was spying, it was all wrong, and that was that.

  “I’ll get that copy of the newspaper for you, Ella,” Ray-Lynn said. “Any time you’d like to stop in here to watch the national news, fine with me, whether I’m home or not. I can give you a key, as long as I know to tell Jack or Win Hayes when you’ll be here, so they’ll be aware.”

  “They’ve been great, though all that attention makes me feel like I’m the criminal at times, instead of that terrible Marvin Boynton, the boss Alex used to trust.”

  “That’s a hard lesson in life,” Ray-Lynn admitted, still fluffing out the huge skirts of her gown. “You need to trust folks, but they can let you down and betray you. Hey, if you want to watch Headline News on CNN before you leave, maybe you’ll see some coverage from yesterday’s events. Come on back in the living room.”

  They stared at Ray-Lynn’s big, flat-screen television as she clicked it on with its remote control. Nearly each time she’d watched the TV, Ella could see new coverage of the SkyBound, Inc., economic espionage trial. She’d sometimes neglected her early lavender harvest to watch a string of people Ray-Lynn called talking heads hash it all over after each person testified and the lawyers did their thing.

  At least, Ella thought, Logan Reese seemed very sharp, but he was prideful about doing his job, as if he was actually enjoying all the attention. The trial coverage had almost made her wish she could own a TV. She had to admit there were some good things about modern inventions, that is, if you could cut the bad parts out.

  When a close-up of Alex’s face appeared on the screen, she clutched her hands tightly and pressed them between her breasts. Though two lines of words about other events crawled across the bottom of the screen, she kept her eyes riveted on him. So handsome, so—worldly, sitting there at a long table beside Logan Reese and two other men with aides seated behind them. She’d never thought to ask Alex what his hiring of the law firm would cost. He hadn’t worked for months. Why, he probably hadn’t really worked since he’d weeded her lavender.

  She savored hearing his voice, even if briefly. She frowned when the commentator talked over him to summarize what he was saying. Ella’s eyes caressed him—that is, the graven image of him on the screen. No Amish haircut growing out now, but a stylish trim. A navy business suit, pale blue shirt and navy-and-gold-striped tie. A gold watch peeked out from under his shirt cuffs, perhaps the very watch she’d worn in SoHo. How could it have ever been that he had walked the hills of the Home Valley, held her hand, relied on her, kissed her? If she could only lunge right through that glass screen and touch him!

  Then the man Ella considered to be the villain came on the screen. Alex’s former employer and mentor Marvin Boynton was a distinguished-looking man, but he always frowned and shook his head or rolled his eyes as if to dismiss or deny everything Alex had “alleged.” Other times, he whispered to his lawyers. He was surrounded and backed by as many men in suits as Alex was.

  “So how does the sheriff think the trial is going?” Ella asked when a commercial for car insurance filled the screen. “He said he records it and watches it later.”

  “He and Win both think it’s going well,” Ray-Lynn assured her. “Win keeps telling folks that Alex is a hero he admires for standing up for what’s right at any cost.”

  Ella nodded but her stomach clenched. She still feared for Alex’s safety and prayed that “any cost” would not be the price for all this. Surely, once this was over and Marvin Boynton went to prison—up to thirty years was possible, she’d read—and the Chinese were sanctioned—which sounded like something good and religious to her, but she’d learned was bad—that Alex would be safe and free at last. Each time he’d entered or left the courtroom, or she saw pictures of him getting out of a big car in front of the New York City courthouse, he’d seemed to have bodyguards and police around him. She prayed they would protect him as well as Sheriff Freeman and Deputy Hayes were taking care of her.

  * * *

  Though she kept busy, the days seemed to drag, so Ella was surprised when October finally rolled around. She had agreed to provide Connie Lee with flower heads to be distilled into lavender oil to make body candles. It took about five hundred pounds of the florets to get just one-and-one-half pounds of the precious, expensive oil, which then had to mature for a year—just like fine wine, Connie had said. And, she’d complained, they both cost about the same.

  The increasingly frenzied woman had been flying back and forth between New York City and here. When she was in the Home Valley, she fought the delay over the finishing of the spa’s interior caused by the carpenter union’s protests when Amish men could have finished it beautifully in a week. And, wouldn’t you know, she’d hired Linc Armstrong to protect her property during the upheaval! Connie Lee and Linc Armstrong—now that was a partnership Ella didn’t like, and she knew Alex wouldn’t either.

  Ella had been cutting the flowers for the distillation since August. Connie had even bought her a small still and gotten permission from the sheriff’s office for her to use it since a state permit was needed in case someone would try to make moonshine on the sly.

  The small still reminded Ella of a generator-operated ice-cream churn. She ran it in the kitchen of the old house that was now her lavender store, since she yet slept in the farmhouse. Each time the steam passed through the still, vaporizing the oil from the plants, she remembered the steam hissing from the huge pipes under Grand Central Station. Again, her heartbeat kicked up as she recalled her days with Alex, remembered their parting, his promises. It was the day before Ray-Lynn’s wedding, and Alex had finished the trial, though the judge’s ruling and possible sentencing of Marvin Boynton was still to come. Alex was now testifying before Congress, and she had no idea how long that could take.

  She jumped when a knock rattled the back door. Maybe Hannah was here with little Marlena. They’d visited twice last week, and it was wonderful to see them.

  She rushed to the door. Deputy Hayes looked through the glass at her. He was getting to be a familiar visitor, stopping when he went by, sometimes, he’d told her, even watching the house and her fields from the hill above, since that was where her abductor must have spied on her. She was glad he kept her up on what he was doing, and it was good to have someone on her side up the hill instead of an enemy.

  “Deputy, hello!” she said, opening the door.

  “Hope the mad spa woman—or anybody else—hasn’t been hassling you again,” he said, removing his hat and stepping in. He extended a piece of paper to her.

  Not bad news! He wasn’t smiling, seemed too serious. Not something about Alex!

  “What’s that?”

  “Oh, no sweat,” he assured her. “It’s the final permit for the still, that’s all. A good excuse for me to make a visit. Here you go. Boy, it smells great in here.”

  She exhaled. The paper looked very formal with signatures, including Connie’s and Sheriff Freeman’s. It wasn’t a contract, she assured herself, recalling how Connie had ranted about labor unions insisting on a contract, which the Amish avoided. But, in a way, Ella still regretted doing business with the woman. And, of course, she’d never told her she’d visited her SoHo spa.

  “Thanks for making a special trip,” Ella told Deputy Hayes. “I hear you will be at Ray-Lynn and the sheriff’s wedding on Saturday.”

  “As a guest but a working one, crowd control.” He shot a smile. “With the sheriff the man of the hour, I’ll be in charge of the entire area, so I may be in and out of the wedding. You be careful now, since you were abducted on the day of a wedding. Don’t be going off alone for any reason. As for me, I’m j
ust glad to feel a part of the community now.”

  “So working security means you can’t bring a guest? I believe there are some young ladies in town who will be glad to see you there, crowd control or not.”

  “Career first right now, time for ladies later. Maybe I’ll find someone later in life, like the sheriff did. To his way of thinking, at least, he seems to have it all.”

  Ella thought that was a strange way to put it, but she nodded. “So, do you want to see how the still works?”

  “Thanks, but got to get going, keep an eye on this area. I missed all the real action around here, the arsons and shootings. It’s pretty peaceful but for some drunks, domestic arguments, a couple of pot fields and a meth lab or two to bust. And, oh, yeah, don’t think I’m not watching Linc Armstrong. He’s out at the spa site or uptown lately, driving in from a motel out on the interstate. He makes the sheriff nervous.”

  “He makes me nervous too, since he said he blames me for things going wrong for him here. He was sweet on my sister-in-law Hannah, and thinks I got in his way with her. She and my brother Seth more or less solved the crime he wanted to handle and then he got in bad with the FBI.”

  “Yeah, well, those big government agencies lord it over small rural authorities like me and the sheriff. Listen, you’re not afraid Armstrong will really do something, are you?”

  “I’ve gotten a lot stronger lately. Very few people know this, but I almost drowned in the pond between the three farms here years ago. My friends saved me. Since then, I’ve had panic attacks that are about as bad as drowning, but I’ve gotten over that too. I’ve learned not only to rely on the Lord but trust myself and my friends more—and that’s where you come in. Thank you for your dedication and concern.”

  “That means a lot to me. I came close to death once as a kid too—an auto accident that killed my dad.”

  “No! I’m sorry to hear that.”