Rising Darkness

by Nancy Mehl

  He grinned. “A little man with glasses and a bow tie. His best friend is his calculator.”

  I laughed. “Sounds like an old movie.”

  “You’re probably right. I love old movies.”

  “I do, too.” After I left Kingdom, I discovered television for the first time. I couldn’t believe some of the things I saw on TV. Although it helped teach me about modern hairstyles, fashion, and makeup, the regular shows were too graphic for me. So I’d found channels with old movies that kept me entertained and intrigued. I’d cried over Cathy’s death in Wuthering Heights and laughed at Jimmy Stewart in Harvey and Cary Grant in Arsenic and Old Lace. Of course, I didn’t admit to watching those movies with the people at work. I just smiled and nodded during conversations about their favorite shows.

  Esther put a plate with pancakes and bacon in front of Zac. He added butter and syrup then began to eat. Although it looked delicious, it reminded me of my mother. She’d loved anything sweet. Especially fattening cupcakes and desserts. Sometimes I snuck some of her food since she was selfish with it. In a weird way, I guess I’d been trying to find some kind of control by taking the things she loved. My mother’s food gave me a rush. Made me feel better. It wasn’t until I left Kingdom that I realized food had become a drug. Something to dull the pain—and it had taken over my life. Rather than giving me control, it controlled me. It took a lot of work to change my habits. I had no plan to ever again use food as a panacea for the hurt in my soul.

  “What are your plans for the day?” Esther’s question brought me back to the present.

  “I have some work to do on my laptop. And then I’m meeting Pastor Wiese later today.”

  “You have accounting work to do on vacation?” Zac asked, looking confused.

  I thought quickly. “It’s March,” I said. “April is right around the corner.”

  “Oh. That makes sense.”

  I nodded as if it actually did.

  He got up and poured himself another cup of coffee. Then he held out the coffeepot. I stuck out my cup, and he filled it.

  “More coffee, Esther?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “I have a lot of baking to do. I need to get at it.”

  Zac put the pot back on the stove and sat back down in his chair. “Jonathon’s a great guy, isn’t he?”

  I nodded, not knowing what to say. Zac must have heard our angry confrontation last night. Surely he was curious about it.

  “He needs to find a wife, though,” he continued. “There are a lot of women interested, but he doesn’t really date. Seems to be waiting for the right person.”

  I frowned at him. “He knew my grandmother. We’re just planning to talk about her.”

  “Oh.” He turned his attention to Esther. “Do you mind if I hang around and help you get ready for the church supper? I don’t have anything else to do.”

  She reached out and patted his hand. “I think you could find something if you wanted to. It is more likely you are concerned I will work too hard, and you plan to keep an eye on me.”

  Zac’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m wounded to the quick. How can you be so suspicious?”

  He winked at me, and Esther saw him. We both laughed.

  “You are welcome to stay and keep me company,” she said. “As long as you know that you have not fooled me.”

  “I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said innocently.

  How wonderful it would be to have such an easy friendship with someone. Although I had acquaintances at college and at the newspaper, I didn’t really have any friends. I told myself I didn’t need them, yet I couldn’t help but envy Esther and Zac. Despite their age difference, they got along famously.

  “I need to get to work.” I got up and went over to the coffeepot. “Can I help with the dishes, Esther?”

  “No, honey. Zac loves to do dishes. You go on and get your work done. We’ll be leaving for the supper around five o’clock. If there’s not enough room in Janet’s car, Zac will drive you over.”

  “Yeah, I’d be happy to.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll probably walk to the church after my meeting with Jonathon. If I’m not here at five, just go without me.”

  After filling my cup one more time, I went upstairs to my room. I couldn’t help feeling unsettled. I needed to be careful from now on. Make sure I stayed around other people and didn’t get into vulnerable situations. The only comfort I had was that whoever hit me had only been interested in my list and my picture of Chase. If they’d wanted to permanently put me out of commission, they could have—yet they didn’t. After thinking about it, I decided it was best to let everyone think I’d tripped. That I’d just imagined someone hitting me. Except for Jonathon. If he brought it up again, I’d stick to the truth. If I changed my story now, he might think I was being deceitful and decide not to help me.

  I really wished I had something more to go on than old church records and staring at men in town, trying to figure out if they looked anything like Terrance Chase. I should have worked out a better plan. I’d been so excited about coming here, maybe I hadn’t done enough research. Would an experienced investigative reporter have come up with something better? It was possible, but the trail was so cold I was pretty certain anyone would have had trouble figuring out how to track down Chase.

  I grabbed my laptop and plopped down on the fainting couch. Then I scooted around and got comfortable. There were twelve names on my list. Three of the men had left town. Three had died. That left six men who still lived in Sanctuary. Of course, Chase could have been one of the men who’d moved away. Or maybe he’d died, although that was less likely. He wasn’t an old man, and if he’d passed away, it was possible his true identity would have been discovered. I really needed to go back to the church and look through the final book. It was possible Jonathon or Esther might be able to fill in the blanks, but I couldn’t take the chance that someone might slip through the cracks. I’d come too far and worked too hard to leave any loopholes. I had to make sure my list was accurate.

  I stared at the list, and my mind drifted to the incident yesterday. Whoever took my notebook had these names—and a few others, the names I’d written down yesterday. If it was someone looking for Chase, would my attacker find him before I could?

  I studied the names and recognized one of them. Reuben King. Esther had told me he was the man the other Emily had married. I started to mark his name off but decided to wait until I saw him, although he was probably too young to be Terrance Chase. Chase was forty-two when he robbed the armored car company. That meant he was now around fifty. Esther had mentioned that Emily, or Wynter, was near my age. I doubted she would marry someone so much older than she was, but I couldn’t be sure.

  Jonathon’s name was on my list, so I crossed him off. For a second, I wondered if he might be in danger from whoever had stolen my notes, but he was way too young to be Chase. Anyone looking for the elusive criminal would know that.

  One of the names, Peter Bakker, sparked something. Where had I heard that name? Suddenly, I remembered. The post office. The clerk’s last name was Bakker. Sarah Miller had mentioned an Evan Bakker who was smoking a turkey for the church supper. The postal clerk couldn’t look less like Chase if he tried. Besides, Chase had no relatives, and Evan Bakker had a brother. In researching Chase, I’d found that his parents had died when he was young. He’d lived with his grandmother until he was eighteen. Not long after he left home, she’d passed away. There was no one else. I didn’t feel sorry for him. Being alone doesn’t give you the right to take the lives of innocent people.

  I quickly wrote the remaining names down in another notebook I’d brought with me. I needed to talk to someone about each of these men. Esther was out because she was spending the afternoon with Zac. I had a meeting with Jonathon at two. He’d be able to help me some, but he hadn’t been here that long. I’d just have to do the best I could with his help until I could get some time alone with Esther.

  I put
the notebook in my purse and then spent some time figuring out what I was going to wear to meet Jonathon. The last thing I wanted to worry about was what he thought about me, but I couldn’t help it. I would probably never stop loving him. My love for him was like a fire burning somewhere deep inside—in a place I couldn’t find and couldn’t control. It was something I’d have to learn to live with, along with the pain that fueled the flames. I finally settled on a black leather jacket to wear over a dark green sweater and jeans. It was simple, but the black emphasized my blond hair, and the sweater highlighted my eyes.

  By the time I got ready to leave, I knew I looked good, but no matter what I wore or how I fixed up my outside, I was certain Jonathon would always see me as the person I’d spent the last few years trying to destroy.

  Chapter

  Fifteen

  A few minutes before two o’clock, I told Zac and Esther I was leaving and would probably meet them at the church.

  It was two on the button when I pulled up in front of The Oil Lamp. Jonathon’s truck was already there. I went inside and found him sitting at a table in the back corner of the restaurant. I’d just sat down when Randi came up and asked me what I wanted.

  “Just iced tea,” I answered.

  “Bring us both a piece of your great coconut cream pie,” Jonathon said.

  I started to protest, but he held up one hand.

  “Trust me. You’ve never had coconut cream pie like this. If you can’t finish it, I’ll eat it for you.”

  Randi laughed. “He means it, honey. That’s how he gets extra pie without looking like a pig.” She shook her head. “I thought gluttony was a sin, pastor man.”

  Jonathon grinned. “Just fetch the pie, woman.”

  Randi chuckled, patted Jonathon on the shoulder, and walked away.

  “I take it she doesn’t go to your church?” I asked when she was out of hearing range.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, she does. Why do you ask?” His confused expression cleared. “Oh, I take it you’re still bugged by the lack of formality I have with my parishioners?”

  I shrugged. “It’s not my business.”

  Jonathon took a sip of his coffee. “What do you care, Sophie? You don’t believe in God anyway, right?”

  “Like I said, it’s none of my business what you do.”

  “According to you, pastors teach others to believe in someone who doesn’t exist. Doesn’t that make us . . . phonies? Liars? Why should we get any respect?”

  I scowled at him. “I never said that. You’re putting words in my mouth.”

  “No, I’m not. If there’s no God, then I’m lying to the people who attend my church.”

  I sighed. “Obviously, you’re trying to make a point. Why don’t you just say it? Get it over with?”

  “I’m not trying to make any point except this—I think you do believe in God. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be so angry. Why be upset with someone who isn’t real? It doesn’t make sense.”

  I felt my face flush with anger. “Then you explain to me where He’s been all my life, Jonathon.”

  He reached out and grabbed my hand. “Right there with you. He never left.”

  I pulled my hand away. “Then He stood by and did nothing.”

  Jonathon started to say something else, but I waved his comment away. “You asked me to meet you because you said you’d help me go through these names. Was that true or not?”

  He frowned. “Yes, it’s true. But one thing before we start. I need to apologize to you. If I’d been the right kind of friend, you could have told me what was happening at home. What your father was doing to you. I let you down, and I blame myself. You should have been able to come to me for help.”

  I blinked back the tears that sprang to my eyes. “I wouldn’t have told you, no matter what you did. I was ashamed. Afraid people would blame me. Hate me.”

  “How could you think that? What happened wasn’t your fault.”

  “That isn’t what my father said. He counted on my shame to keep me quiet.” I wiped my eyes. “Look, I’ve worked through a lot of stuff over the last several years. I appreciate what you just said, but it truly had nothing to do with you. You were my savior. The one person who didn’t seem to mind having me around. Until I ruined everything.” I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I didn’t come here to talk about my father. You said you’d help me with my story. If you don’t mind, I’d feel more comfortable if we could drop this subject. It’s personal. I shouldn’t have said anything about it in the first place.”

  “I disagree,” Jonathon said softly. “I think you need to talk about it. Dismissing it isn’t the way to heal, Sophie. You’ve got to face your feelings. Your anger. Maybe I wasn’t there for you when it happened, but I’d like to be here for you now.”

  Before I could respond, Maxie came up to the table with my tea and our pie. Toasted coconut covered the rich, thick meringue, and the filling spilled out onto the plate.

  I thanked her and waited until she walked away before framing a response to Jonathon’s comment. “I—I really appreciate your offer. But to be honest, I just don’t think I could talk to you about this.”

  His eyebrows drew together. “Why not? Because you know me? Wouldn’t that actually make you more comfortable?”

  I couldn’t tell him it was because I still cared for him. He might feel some compassion, but he’d never have romantic feelings for me. “No, I don’t think so.” I sighed. “Look, let’s get to the list. Maybe we can talk about other things . . . later.”

  He studied me for a few seconds. “All right. If that’s what you want. But please remember what I said. I’m completely serious.”

  “I will. Thanks.” I took a bite of my pie and washed it down with a sip of tea. The pie was incredible.

  Jonathon grinned when he saw my expression. “I take it I don’t need to finish that for you, after all?”

  “Not unless you want a fork in your hand.”

  “I’ll pass, thanks.” He took a bite of his own pie and then put his fork down. He stared at me with a weird expression on his face. “I know you’re Sophie Wittenbauer, but it’s so strange. Sometimes I see you, some fragment of the girl I knew. And other times . . . you’re not her. You’re someone else. Someone I don’t know. It’s unsettling.”

  “I don’t want to be that girl anymore. I’ve done everything I can to get rid of her.”

  He stared down at his plate for a moment, not saying anything. When he looked up, there was something in his eyes that made me catch my breath.

  “I cared about that girl. I’m afraid I can’t just dismiss her like you have. She may have been confused, but there was something special about her. A fire. A determination. I felt drawn to that . . . and to her.” He looked down for another long moment before lifting his eyes and meeting mine. “You’ve always been beautiful, Sophie. You were a beautiful child, and now you’re a beautiful woman. Beauty isn’t something you wear on the outside. It shines from the inside. I see that in you now—and I saw it in you back then.”

  I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his, and I couldn’t think of anything to say. It was as if the right words didn’t exist. We kept staring at each other until someone at the table next to us dropped a utensil on the floor. The clanging made us both jump. I picked up my glass and forced myself to take a drink, trying to concentrate on the cold liquid coursing down my dry throat instead of the searing heat that seemed to flow through my body.

  As I put my glass down, I tried to calm my trembling body. “Let’s talk about Terrance Chase, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said in a low, husky voice. “Tell me the names you have. Let’s see if we can narrow them down.”

  I picked up my purse and pulled out my notebook. Then I searched for a pen. My hands shook so badly, it was difficult to grasp. “Whoever knocked me out took my other notebook so some of the names were lost. Also, I still have one record book at the church I need to go through. The sooner, the better.”

>   “You never mentioned that someone took your notebook,” Jonathon said after swallowing another bite of pie.

  “I didn’t want Pastor Troyer to know what I was really doing in his basement. If I’d told him about the notebook—the one he thought I was using to do research on my supposed family—he would have become suspicious.”

  “At first, I didn’t believe you. I thought you’d simply tripped and hit your head. If someone really was in that basement, it means you might be in danger, Sophie. Someone is trying to stop you from finding the truth.”

  “I realize that, but if they’d really wanted to hurt me, they could have finished me off. They didn’t. All they took was my notebook and a picture I had of Terrance Chase. Thankfully, I’d removed my notes from yesterday morning and left them in my room. The only thing I don’t have is yesterday afternoon’s names. All my other previous work is on my laptop.”

  “So now that they know you’re going through the records, probably looking for Chase, what do you think they want? I mean, I assume they realize you could have saved the information somewhere else. Stealing those notes won’t stop you from continuing your search.”

  “I don’t know what they want. Maybe it’s someone just trying to figure out what I’m up to. Maybe it has nothing to do with Chase.”

  “Maybe.” His forehead wrinkled in thought. “I have a tough time believing Chase is in Sanctuary. It might sound ridiculous, but I like to think I’d know if someone that evil was living in my town.” He leaned toward me. “You shouldn’t take this attack so lightly, Sophie. Whoever it was hit you pretty hard. Maybe they meant to do more than just knock you out.”

  “I didn’t get that impression, Jonathon, and I’m fine.” To be honest, I was a little worried. I knew I was taking risks, but I really wanted this story. I had to keep Jonathon from contacting the police before I was able to find Chase. Trying to change the subject, I reached down, picked up my purse, and took out my phone. After bringing up my pictures, I found Chase’s mug shot and handed Jonathon the phone.