I rubbed my forehead, wishing I could rub away what I had read. How could the Krauses have any affiliation with Nazis? They were the most loving and kind people I knew.
I turned to the next and final page. It was a document marked as classified. Most of the information on the page had been redacted. Between the sections that had been blacked out, there was a picture of me. An agent whose name was also unreadable had placed me in protection—protection in the form of state care. There were a few specific notes about making sure I wasn’t in any home for more than twelve months and that the agent placing me in protective services would oversee my care.
“Sally, I don’t understand.” I dropped the file on the table.
“Neither do I, Sloan.” Sally removed her glasses. “I have a theory, though. Would you like to hear it?”
I picked up my tea, which had gone completely cold. I took a big slug anyway. “Of course.”
She appraised me for a minute. “You’re sure you’re okay, or should we sleep on this and start fresh in the morning?”
“No, I’m fine. I want to hear your thoughts. I refuse to believe that Otto and Ursula are Nazi sympathizers. It doesn’t make sense. They would have been kids during the war. How can they be involved?”
“Family connections run deep. I’ve learned that over my years in social work. It’s hard to break systemic family patterns. Yes, Otto and Ursula would have been children during the war, but not Ernst. If he fled to the US, they could have been helping him. That might have been what brought them here.” Her lips turned down. “I’m not sure you’re going to like my theory. It’s sketchy and just a theory. I’m working on finding more proof. In fact, when I return to Seattle tomorrow, I have an appointment with an FBI agent. I’m hoping he can shed some additional light on this case, but here’s what I’ve pieced together so far. Let’s start from what Ursula told you. She claims that Marianne—who we’re assuming is your mom—came to Leavenworth with Forest under the guise of trying to swindle the Krauses out of Der Keller. Do I have that right so far?”
I nodded.
“The Krauses realized that Forest’s offer was fake, and the FBI got involved. Marianne was spooked and took off with her young daughter before the authorities arrived. According to Ursula, the FBI had been looking for Forest because he had been committing similar fraud for many years, correct?”
“Yep. That’s exactly what Ursula told me.” When Ursula had told me the story, she had been embarrassed that Forest had preyed upon them. That he’d taken advantage of the fact that they were foreigners and that English was their second language. She had confessed that when the FBI asked them not to speak about what had happened so they could continue to build their case against Forest, she had gladly agreed. She and Otto were mortified that they had been so gullible.
Sally scooted her chair closer. “What if that’s not the reason Marianne was in Leavenworth?”
“What do you mean?” I glanced at the fireplace. The logs had smoldered into glowing red embers. How long had we been talking? It felt like minutes, but it must have been hours.
“What if Marianne is the agent whose name is redacted on those documents? It can’t be a coincidence that someone in the agency placed you in protective care. I think that Otto and Ursula’s story about Forest is fake. I think that Marianne and maybe Forest—although I’m not sure what his role is in all of this yet—were in Leavenworth to track Otto and Ursula. Maybe they got a lead that Ernst was going to make contact? Maybe they learned how the Krauses were getting him money. My guess is through Der Keller’s distribution channels. Something must have gone wrong to blow their cover, and they fled. I’m guessing whatever went wrong must have put you in danger. That’s why Marianne put you in custody. She wasn’t abandoning you. She was protecting you.”
I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. “Maybe.”
Sally met my eyes. “But you’re not convinced?”
“I don’t know. Your theory feels like it could be true, but you haven’t met Otto and Ursula—or Friedrich and Helga—whatever their names really are. It’s hard to explain, but you know how earlier you talked about your intuition and gut feeling about me? The same is true for me with the Krauses. If you knew them, you would be conflicted, too. There’s nothing about them that hints at such a horrendous past. Why would they come to Leavenworth? Why would they spend twenty years building such a beautiful community here?”
“But what if that’s been their front?” Sally looked at me, then sighed. “I know. I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you. And you’re right, I don’t know them like you do, but in some ways Leavenworth is the perfect hiding spot if you want to escape your past. Think about it. You’ve said that they never talk about their past. That they never talk about their family. That no other family has ever come to visit. If you wanted to hide out, I would say that this is about as remote and as far from Germany as you can get.”
She made a compelling argument. As strong as my relationship with Ursula and Otto had been, I knew very little about their past. They spoke of the “motherland” with love and affection, but only as it related to brewing and food. What else did I know about them? I racked my brain for any sliver of information they might have let slip. The only thing I’d ever heard them say was that they came to America to give their boys a better life. Could that mean a better life free of persecution due to their Nazi-sympathizing past or, worse, to help aid and abet a Nazi war criminal?
The thought made me nearly fall off my chair.
“There’s one more thing that I’ve learned,” Sally added. “It’s about Ernst, Otto’s uncle.”
I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. “What’s that?”
“Jim did some searching for me, and according to what he found, it sounds like he might still be alive. According to authorities, he is on the FBI’s most wanted list. He’s one of the last known Nazis in the United States.”
“How old would that make him?”
Sally cleared her throat. “That was my first question, too. I asked Jim the same thing. Apparently the FBI has a list of six of the most wanted Nazi war criminals still living, and his name is on the list. There aren’t many left. All of them, including Ernst, are in their mid- to late nineties.”
I massaged my temples.
“Sloan, you mentioned on the phone that the Krauses opted to gift you and their sons shares in Der Keller and pull back their involvement. That news is maybe the most unsettling of all. What if they’re giving up their connection to the brewery because they’re getting ready to run?”
“Run?” I sunk into my chair. “This feels like a bad dream.”
“I know.” Sally wrapped her hand over mine. “It’s a lot to take in. Should we call it a night? I’m sure I said this to you dozens of times over the years, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that sleep and rest can do wonders for the soul. Why don’t you try and get some sleep, and tomorrow we’ll start fresh and decide where we go from here.”
I wanted to protest, but my brain was on overload. There was no way I could think through next steps with so many questions pounding through my head. “Yeah, okay.”
Sally stood. She kissed the top of my head. “Sloan, there’s one important thing I want you to know, and that is that you don’t have to face this alone. I’m here, and I’ll do whatever it takes to support you. Whatever you need.”
I fought tears. “Thanks, Sally. That means a lot.”
She put our dishes in the sink, wrapped up my slice of cake, and headed down the hallway. I sat and watched the fire burn itself out. I appreciated Sally’s support more than I could ever express, but the truth was that with or without her here, this was something that ultimately I was going to have to face on my own.
In the morning we could make a plan, but I was already formulating my own. I knew what had to be done. It was time for me to face Otto and Ursula. I wanted to give my in-laws the benefit of the doubt. If they had been wrongly accused, I would work
tirelessly to clear their name.
But if Sally’s theory was correct, that changed everything. I had one responsibility—Alex. If his grandparents were indeed Nazi sympathizers, then I would work even harder to ensure they were brought to justice in whatever way possible. And I would do whatever I could to help the authorities track down Ernst and see that whatever limited time he had left on earth was spent behind bars.
I hoped that my intuition was right, because if it wasn’t, the Krause family had no idea what was about to come. I might have lost my childhood because of them. I would not allow them to steal Alex’s, too.
I hoped for their sake as much as mine that Sally was wrong, because if the Krauses were really wanted criminals who had been helping harbor a Nazi for these many years, they had no idea of the wrath they were about to unleash.
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
SALLY WAS UP BEFORE ME and sipping coffee at the kitchen island when I padded down the hallway the next morning. “Did you sleep?” Her tone was gentle.
“I think so.” I poured myself a cup and joined her.
She placed her hand over mine. It was warm from holding her steaming mug. “I didn’t sleep much. Sloan, I’m regretting some of our conversation. Maybe I came on too strong. Like I said last night. These are just theories I’m working on. I don’t know what the truth of the Krauses’ situation is, but I do worry about you, and I promise I will not stop until we have answers.”
I squeezed her hand. “It’s okay. I can handle it, but the thing is I’m going to have to talk to Otto and Ursula. This is a small town. Alex is their grandson. Technically I’m still married to their son, and I own a piece of Der Keller. It’s been terrible trying to avoid them. I can’t keep this up. I need to hear their side of this.”
“I know.” Sally cradled her coffee mug. “I think that’s our next play. I think you should talk to them. I just wanted to be sure that you had as much information as I could gather before you spoke to them. I knew that you would need to see the files. This isn’t something that I could simply email to you. And if there’s a chance that my theory has any truth, we could both be in real danger.”
As could Alex, I thought to myself.
“It will be interesting to hear their side of the story. Maybe there’s a reasonable explanation.” Sally didn’t sound convinced. I had the sense she was trying to appease me.
I swallowed hard. “You have no idea how much I’m hoping that’s the case. The thought of having to tell Alex that his grandparents have Nazi ties makes me sick to my stomach. He adores them.”
“There’s no need to involve him yet. I suggest that you have a conversation with Otto and Ursula once you feel ready. I know that you’re a master at masking your emotions, but keeping any sort of healthy detachment is going to be a challenge, to say the least.”
I bit my bottom lip and nodded.
“It doesn’t need to be today. In fact, it shouldn’t be today. You need time to process everything we’ve discussed, but I do think it should be soon. Involving the FBI will likely mean that things will speed up. Jim is committed to helping, too. Do you remember when you were in junior high and dealing with that group of mean girls?”
“How could I forget?” Her words resurfaced memories of petite blond girls who all wore Guess jeans with a little triangle label on the back pocket and roamed around the school’s hallways in packs, like wild wolves. Living in foster care meant that I rarely had any fancy clothes, let alone name-brand jeans. It didn’t bother me, but there had been a group of popular kids who used to make snide comments in the locker room about my J. C. Penney jeans. When I had mentioned it in one of my sessions with Sally, she had been able to pull deeper issues out of me. It wasn’t about the jeans. I didn’t care about fashion, but they represented the lack of care and permanence that had been an ongoing theme in my childhood. “I’ve found that action and creating a plan helps balance the feelings of fear and insecurity that you’re experiencing,” Sally had advised. “If it’s the jeans that matter, we can brainstorm a way to get them for you, whether that’s through a donation or perhaps a part-time job. If it’s more about the idea of feeling alone, then let’s make a plan for that. You’ve shown a great interest in baking. What about taking an after-school class at the culinary school, or volunteering in the kitchen at the homeless shelter?”
It was Sally who had directed me toward a career in the restaurant business. Something I was forever indebted to her for.
“Let’s use that same strategy and work out a plan. I’ll meet with the FBI, I’ll see what else—if anything—Jim has been able to learn, you sit down with Otto and Ursula, and we’ll go from there.”
“What about Marianne and Forest?” I asked. “How do we find them?”
“That’s the next step.” Sally stood to refresh her coffee. “I’m hoping that my new contact at the FBI will be able to guide us.”
We polished off the pot of coffee, made another, and lingered over breakfast. Then I took Sally for a stroll through the property. The hop vines were dormant for the season, but the snowy fields and distant mountain ranges made for a scenic view. Before I knew it, it was time to take Sally to the train.
She handed me the files before we took her overnight bag out to the car. “These are for you. I made copies. Do with them what you will. I don’t know if you want to use them in your meeting with the Krauses or if you want to show them to Hans or Mac. It’s totally up to you.”
The weight of the paperwork felt heavy in my hands. I hid the files under my mattress. There was no way I was going to risk Alex finding photos of his grandparents labeled as dangerous.
* * *
At the train station later, Sally gave me a giant hug. “Don’t forget, we’re in this together, Sloan. You’re not alone.”
“Thank you,” I managed to say before tears began to spill. “Really, thank you for everything.”
She kissed my cheek. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m done with my meeting. You stay safe and go easy on yourself.” With that, she walked to the train platform.
I drove to the village in a daze. Now what? I asked myself, pulling into a parking space about a block away from Nitro. The temp was starting to dip, and it wouldn’t be long until the sun disappeared behind the mountains and the cold sunk in. I still had hours before Alex would be home. I could go into Nitro, but I wasn’t ready. I needed a little time to think. Sally was right, having a plan was going to be a critical survival strategy. I was going to have to talk to Otto and Ursula soon, but in the meantime I needed to employ every tool I had learned in years of therapy. The mere thought of sitting across the table from them made my hands clammy.
Having free time on my hands wasn’t something I was used to. My world revolved around Alex and brewing. Had that been a coping strategy, too? Had I filled every spare minute with tasks in order to avoid being alone with myself?
I wandered aimlessly until I found myself at Front Street Park, where I stopped and watched a group of young kids bundled up in puffy snowsuits lug bright yellow and red sleds up the snowy hill and screech with delight as they zoomed back down again.
I glanced across the street to the Der Keller compound. It was aglow with golden lights and the leaping flames on the outdoor fire tables. The brewery had been a haven for me. Every time I walked into the dining room with its German flags and banners, pewter beer steins lining the walls, and oompah music playing from speakers overhead, I had felt at home. The familiar scent of grains steeping in the brewery used to waft into the restaurant in the mornings. I loved starting my days surrounded by the warmth of Otto and Ursula’s family heirlooms and the rich smells of sauerbraten simmering in Der Keller’s massive kitchens. Had the Krause family deceived me? And how had I fallen under their charm?
I sucked in a cold burst of air and walked in the opposite direction. I couldn’t stay here, and I wasn’t about to go home now.
Keep it together, Sloan.
I willed my emotions to settle a
nd walked toward the cottage. Maybe the sight of my new home would provide some relief.
The short walk led me past the bookstore, the Brat Haus, and the Rheinlander Hotel, where a trio of accordion players serenaded diners on the upstairs deck.
I couldn’t believe after so many years I was finally going to live in the village. If I felt like staying late one night and brewing with Garrett, no problem. And if I ran out of milk or eggs, I could walk a block to the store instead of having to get in the car and drive into town.
The lights in the cottage were on as I walked by. The front porch was flanked by two large potted evergreen trees wrapped in wispy golden lights. A soft orange glow came from the antique lamp that hung above the front door. The eight-paned front windows were backlit from inside. I could see through to the opposite side of the house and the back windows that looked out over the miniature golf course.
I’m going to live here, I thought, rubbing my hands together in delight.
As I was about to continue on, a voice stopped me. “Sloan, is that you?”
I looked to my left to see the owner of the cottage standing at the front door. A hot blush burned my cheeks. I felt terrible for snooping.
“Terra, hi, sorry. I didn’t mean to stand here like a creeper. I’m just so excited that you accepted my offer.”
Since Leavenworth was such a small town, it was a rare occasion that business transactions, like home sales, occurred anonymously. But that didn’t mean that I wanted to invade her privacy.
“No, no, we’re equally thrilled. Won’t you come inside and have a celebratory toast with us? Joe is opening a bottle of champagne as we speak.”
“Oh, I couldn’t.”
“I insist.” She waved me forward. “Please, come in.”
“If you’re sure.” I hesitated.
“Positive.”
Inside the cheery cottage, Terra’s husband, Joe, raised a fluted champagne glass. “I knew Terra would convince you to join us.” Joe was in his early seventies, with silver hair and kind eyes. He moved as if every muscle in his body was stiff. I knew his long career as a ski instructor had taken a toll on his knees.
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