Off the Record

by Jill Elizabeth Nelson

  “Got it,” Paul answered.

  Kate nodded. The sheriff’s tone plainly said that he was inclined to think any “finds” would be in the house, not the barren yard or the nearly impassable tangle of trees. Still, she’d take what she could get.

  They all climbed out, and the sheriff stretched his arms out wide and groaned, then tugged up his pants and headed for the swaybacked porch.

  “I’ll poke around the grove,” Paul said.

  That left the yard, so Kate moved toward the side of the house. Creaks from the porch boards as the sheriff ascended sent shivers down her spine.

  “Carla!” she called. “Are you here?” Only the wind in the trees answered.

  In the rear of the building, she found a set of cellar doors attached to the house, and her heart leaped. Could Carla be down there? If so, was she alive? Kate rapped with her foot on the thick but weathered boards. Not even a mouse let out a squeak.

  Hands on her hips, Kate did a one-eighty of the area. To one side, snaps and crackles betrayed Paul’s battle with the woodland undergrowth. To her other side, the faintest of paths between the trees beckoned.

  She strode in that direction. A few steps into the grove, sun-dappled shadows swallowed her in coolness. The smell of pine filled her nostrils. Ahead, a flash of gray caught her eye where there should only have been green and brown. Within about a dozen yards, she came to a tiny windowless shed coated in cracking gray paint. The door wore a shiny new padlock.

  What was in there that was so valuable it needed to be secured out in the middle of nowhere? Or was someone being kept from coming out? Kate’s pulse sang in her ears.

  She rattled the lock. “Carla?” The name breathed between her lips, bearing the last vestige of hope she carried.

  Stone silence met her ears.

  Kate turned and slumped against the building. A soft rustle from the interior answered her. She stiffened. “Are you in there, Carla?”

  She got no response, but she cried out for Paul. He arrived, thrashing through bushes, from deeper in the woods. Several scratches adorned his face.

  Kate pointed toward the shed. “I heard something in there.”

  “It could be a critter.” Paul brushed leaves from his shirt.

  “But it might be Carla.”

  “All right.” He nodded. “I’ll go get the sheriff and see if he has something we can use to spring that lock.”

  He hustled away, and soon both men returned, Sheriff Roberts’ pot belly jiggling with his trot. He pulled out his handgun and bashed the lock with the butt...once...twice...It sprang open.

  “Stand back.” The sheriff motioned them away. “If it’s a raccoon, it’s likely upset now.”

  He pulled open the door, and a musty smell escaped, along with a moan that didn’t belong to a critter. Oblivious to the men’s protests, Kate charged into the building. A stirring form lay on a pile of dirty rags.

  “Carla!”

  A grimy face stared back at her with huge sunken eyes. The young woman lay bound hand and foot. Kate knelt and pulled a gag from her mouth.

  “Oh, Ka-a-ate, you found me.” Her voice cracked like one of the elderly residents she had looked after at Orchard Hill.

  Kate gathered Carla into her arms. They both wept.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  An evening less than a week later found Kate and Paul relaxing in their living room. The new issue of the Copper Mill Chronicle rested on Paul’s lap, but he hadn’t opened it yet.

  “Carla called today.” Kate sipped from a tall glass of iced tea. The late May weather had already begun to feel downright summery.

  “What did she have to say?”

  “She’s recovered very well from the dehydration that kept her in the hospital for a day. The broken heel from trying to bash down the shed door will take longer to heal, but employees at Orchard Hill are turning out in droves to help.” Kate chuckled. “I guess crusty old Nurse Pritchard has organized them into shifts to help look after the kids and provide meals so Carla can recuperate. They’re anxious to have her back.” She beamed at her husband.

  “Great news.” He answered her smile.

  “There’s more.” Kate set her glass on the side table and leaned toward Paul. “After Stephen caught her snooping around and tied her up in that shed, she had a lot of time to think about her life and family and that sort of thing, especially when she considered what might become of her children if she never saw them again.”

  Paul smoothed the paper on his lap. “What did she decide?”

  “She’s going to contact her father. She remembers him as a great daddy, even though he and her mother fought a lot. After her parents split and her mom took her to Chattanooga, Carla can see in hindsight that her mother might have poisoned her mind about him. She’s willing now to admit that there might be another side to the story that her mother never told her.”

  “Well, well.” Paul stretched out his legs and crossed his ankles. “That’s a huge step in the right direction. We’ll have to pray this works out for her. If he turns out to be a decent fellow after all, it would be nice for those kids to know their grandpa.”

  “Amen. I know I’d go right out of my skull if I thought I had grandchildren I’d never get to cuddle.”

  “Good thing that’s never going to happen.” Chuckling, Paul opened the paper and shook it out in front of him. “Let’s see what the Chronicle has to say about our recent excitement.”

  Kate returned to her tea, heart full of wonder and gratitude for the way things were working out for the innocent in all this mess.

  Her husband let out a low whistle that drew her attention. “Here’s a huge article on the front page by Jennifer McCarthy. She had a heyday with this one. Must’ve quoted nearly everyone in town. Let’s see. There are lengthy comments by Lawton and Lucy Mae Briddle, plus a few terse words from Sheriff Roberts about the drug stash found in Stephen Hancock’s cellar. Then there’s a good dose of enthusiasm about the ‘crackerjack case’ from Skip.”

  Kate laughed. “Sounds about right.”

  “That’s not nearly all. Betty Anderson and Emma Blount share what it was like to have their blood donation interrupted by a crisis. Arletta Walner expresses shock that a blood drive in her school building would be connected with illegal activity. And Livvy Jenner commends ‘certain civic-minded people’ for ‘keeping their eyes open and asking questions until they got answers.’ She doesn’t name anyone in particular, though.”

  “Good for Livvy.” Kate laughed. “I asked her not to.”

  “Just like you refused an interview?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t want any of this to be about me. It needs to be about people educating and protecting themselves.”

  “You need to hear this bit.” Paul started to quote from the article.

  Due to the national nature of the crime, the Federal Bureau of Investigation has become involved. A spokesperson from the Knoxville office stated that all forms of identity theft are “a growing criminal industry” and of interest to the FBI. Although the trade in medical-record identities was perpetrated in the Chattanooga area by a ring of accomplices, the impact of their actions extends beyond state lines as identities are peddled throughout the country. It is also believed that the suspects in custody are part of a larger cartel of thieves operating in south-central states, including Tennessee, Kentucky, Arkansas, and Missouri.

  “Wow!” Kate’s breath caught. “I guess we barely nicked the tip of the iceberg by putting a stop to this little scheme.”

  “Actually, we may have cracked the polar cap wide open.” Paul rattled the paper. “The article says, ‘Law enforcement is hopeful that these arrests and the subsequent investigation of the suspects’ activities and contacts will lead them to many of the others involved.’”

  “We’ll have to put that on our prayer list.” She studied the empty fireplace. “Loretta confirmed that she participated in the Pine Ridge blood drive, so that’s where her record must have been stolen.
But now that the theft ring has been exposed, she’s stopped receiving phone calls from collectors. She’s officially off the hook for the bills, thanks to her lawyer.” Kate let out a little chuckle.

  “That’s terrific!” A wide smile crinkled the corners of her husband’s blue eyes. “And Regions Hospital has been notified of the fraud too, so we shouldn’t see any more bills from them.”

  “God is good,” Kate said.

  “All the time,” Paul answered.

  Her smile faded. “It’s still sad how this kind of crime makes a mess in innocent people’s lives...and businesses too. Now excellent medical facilities like the Mayo Clinic and Regions Hospital have to absorb the cost of pricey services because some crooks cheated them.” She shook her head and sipped at her tea. “Does the article say what’s going to happen with the Copper Mill blood drive?”

  “Indeed it does.” Paul chuckled. “Apparently, Renee and Joe are ‘eager to finish what they started.’ The drive has been rescheduled for next month. And look at our heroes of the day.” He passed the newspaper over to Kate.

  A large photograph stared back at her. In the shot taken in front of the gymnasium, a grinning Loretta Sweet and a shyly smiling Joe Tucker stood on either side of a beaming Renee, holding “Kisses, the Courageous Chihuahua,” according to the caption underneath. Nearby was a quote from Renee, stating, “His participation in the capture of a dangerous criminal has done wonders for my Little Umpkins’ self-esteem.”

  “What a hoot!” She handed the paper back to Paul, who folded it up and laid it aside.

  The phone rang, and Kate started to get up, but Paul motioned for her to stay seated. Half a minute later, he was back, brow furrowed.

  “Honey, can you take the extension in the bedroom? It’s Lucy Mae. She wants to talk to us both about the results of her mother’s pacemaker surgery today.”

  “Good news?”

  “I don’t know. She wouldn’t say without you on the line too. She sounded, well, emotional.”

  “Oh dear.”

  Kate went to the bedroom and picked up the cordless handset. The sound of someone weeping came over the line. “Lucy Mae, are you all right? Did something happen with your mother?”

  “Oh, Kaaate! I can’t thank you enough.” The woman sniffled. “You caught the people who endangered my mother’s life.” A soft sob punctuated the words. “And now she just got out of surgery, and she’s going to be all riiight!”

  “That’s terrific, Lucy Mae.”

  “We’re so happy for all of you,” Paul said.

  “I’m sorry about being such a basket case.” Lucy Mae sniffed. “But I’m so relieved, I’m beside myself. You know, this incident taught me to appreciate my mother in ways I never have before. I’m truly thankful.”

  They chatted for a few minutes more, then ended the call. Kate headed for the bedroom doorway and almost ran into Paul coming from the living room.

  He took her in his arms and planted a kiss on her lips. “We have a lot to be thankful for too, you know.”

  She smiled up at him. “As long as you’ve got your health, it doesn’t get any better than faith, family, and friends.”

  Paul tipped his head back and laughed. “As usual, you’ve made the right deduction, Katie girl!”

  About the Author

  JILL ELIZABETH NELSON is an award-winning author of mystery and suspense novels. She writes what she likes to read—tales of adventure seasoned with romance, humor and faith, earning her the tagline “Endless Adventure, Timeless Truth.” Jill speaks regularly at conferences, writers groups, library associations, and civic and church groups. She and her husband live in rural Minnesota, where they raised four children and are currently enjoying their first grrandchild. Visit her at www.jillelizabethnelson.com for her speaking schedule, excerpts from her novels and book giveaways.

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