Rising Darkness

by Nancy Mehl

  He stared at it. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “I mean, I know some men with his coloring. It’s just too hard to tell from this picture. It’s too fuzzy.”

  I put my phone back in my purse. “That’s why these names are so important. It’s been a long time, and he probably changed his appearance. When I first came here, I really thought I could recognize him. But I was being naïve. That’s why narrowing it down through these lists is so important. If I can find someone on the list who might be Chase, then I can probably use the mug shot to confirm my suspicions.” I sighed. “I was really relying on that picture. It was a copy of the last known picture of Chase. I’ve stared at it long enough to memorize it, so I’m not sure why I’m so upset. I guess it was kind of my security blanket.”

  “What happens if you decide Chase was here and is already gone?”

  “I try to track him down.”

  Jonathon was silent for a moment. “Sophie, I think it might be time to contact the authorities. I don’t want you to put yourself in any more danger. I know this story is important to you, but it isn’t worth your life.”

  There it was. The reaction I’d been dreading. “Look, at least I need a name. A possible suspect. I’m so close. If I can’t figure out who Chase is for certain—or if it gets too dangerous—I’ll call the police.”

  Jonathon sighed and shook his head. “I’m not convinced, but we’ll talk about it later.” He pushed away his pie plate and leaned toward me again. “Are you checking men who have died?”

  I nodded and read him the list.

  “I either know those men or know of them. None of them would fit your scenario. One of them, August Metzger, was here a couple of years ago. His background was checked during the murder investigation. He’s not Chase.”

  “Someone was murdered in Sanctuary?”

  “Same thing happened in Kingdom. No place is immune from evil.”

  “I guess not.” It seemed there should be a place on earth where people could live in peace and safety.

  “Why would Terrance Chase stay in Sanctuary?” Jonathon asked. “When he felt he was safe, wouldn’t he leave town and go somewhere else? Someplace where he could spend the money?”

  “Yes, that’s certainly possible. That’s why the names of the men who left are so important. I’m even looking for men who came here single and left married. I agree it would be odd for him to stay—unless he likes it here. Of course, I think people would notice if someone tried spending millions of dollars in Sanctuary.”

  “I agree. So you want to recopy the names you lost and bring your list up to date so you can see who left town?”

  “Exactly. Maybe after the supper I’ll see if Pastor Troyer will let me go back to the church and finish up.”

  “You’re not going alone,” Jonathon said emphatically. “I’m going with you.”

  “Thank you. I really would feel better if you did. I don’t want to be there by myself.”

  “I intend to keep a close eye on you from now on.”

  I studied him for a moment. “You know, I’m still having a hard time seeing you as a pastor. It’s quite a change from the Mennonite rebel you used to be.”

  “I rebelled against some of the self-imposed rules from our church because I love the truth, and I wanted to serve God honestly.” His eyebrows met as he looked at me. “Look, Sophie, I’m not knocking the good people in Kingdom. Some of them were the best Christians I’ve ever known. I . . . just wanted more freedom. I think the grace of God justifies that.”

  “All those rules didn’t make my father a good man.” I picked up my iced-tea cup and stared into it. “Yet people like Lizzie, Hope, Ebbie . . . and you . . . were wonderful people who truly cared about others.”

  “But the rules didn’t cause that. We just loved God and wanted to be like Him. And He isn’t a God of rules.”

  I grunted. “The Old Testament is full of rules.”

  “As a way to show us we couldn’t be righteous by keeping them. Jesus fulfilled the law, bringing us into grace. The law isn’t needed anymore because the law of love has been written on our hearts.”

  “Not on my father’s.”

  “I know,” Jonathon said. “Your father used religion to satisfy his desire for control. You think he got away with it, but he didn’t, Sophie.”

  “Whatever.” The direction of our conversation was making me uncomfortable again. “Why don’t you save your sermons for church?” My comment sounded harsher than I meant it, but I really wasn’t interested in being preached to.

  “Okay,” he said affably. “Read me the rest of the list.”

  I picked up my notes. I hadn’t meant to snap at him and was relieved he didn’t seem offended. “Well, I think we can automatically rule out one of the names. Jonathon Wiese.”

  He gave me a lopsided smile. “Gee, thanks.”

  “What about Reuben King?”

  “Too young. Besides, he’s a longtime resident. He moved away for a while. College and a job, but he came back several years ago. He’s married now. That might not be in the records because it happened recently.”

  “I guess I also missed the entry about his living in Sanctuary before.”

  Jonathon shrugged. “Well, the family owns a farm outside of town. That might explain it. Maybe whoever kept the records didn’t consider him an actual resident.”

  That information concerned me. Maybe the church records weren’t as accurate as I’d hoped. I crossed Reuben off. “That leaves these names.” I read the remaining names out loud.

  “Well, let’s see. Why don’t you repeat them one by one?”

  “Okay. Let’s start with Norman Yoder.”

  Jonathon laughed. “Norman is eighty-three and came here about five years ago to live with his niece who was born in Sanctuary. Again, not really the criminal type.”

  I crossed his name off. “What about Joshua Franklin?”

  Jonathon shook his head. “He moved away to live with his uncle in Cape Girardeau. Besides, he’s only in his late twenties. He would have been too young in 2008.”

  I sighed and crossed off another name. “You know, there really aren’t that many single men who’ve moved here and stayed.”

  “Is that a surprise? Most single men aren’t looking for small-town life.”

  “Well, you’re here.”

  “True. But I was raised in a small town. I didn’t want something different. I just wanted a place that was . . .”

  “Different?” I said with a smile.

  He chuckled. “Okay. Point taken. What about single men who came here and got married?”

  “I have a small list with those names, alongside the men who came here, got married, and left. To be honest, I just don’t think Chase would risk marriage. Too legal. Too easy to be found out. But just in case, I wrote them down. There are only four on that list.”

  “You might as well read them.”

  I rattled off each one.

  “No, forget them. I know two of them, and I know the families of the other two. All of them are young.”

  “All right, let’s go back to the list of single men still here. The next name is Ben Johnson.”

  “Well, Ben is about the right age. In his fifties.” Jonathon was silent for a moment. “When did he come here?”

  “According to the records in the church, he moved to town in 2010. About a year and a half after the robbery.”

  “He works with Abner Ingalls in the hardware store. Sleeps in a back room Abner set up for him. Keeps to himself. I get the feeling he has something in his past he’s trying to deal with.”

  “Like murder?”

  Jonathon stared at his coffee cup for a few seconds before picking it up. “I hope not. I like the guy.”

  “Okay. There are three men who have died. Jacob Vogel, Arthur Deering, and Leo Moreland.”

  “Jacob and Arthur were very old. They actually came here to stay with family so they would have someone to take care of them. I didn’t know Leo, bu
t I know his sister. He couldn’t be Chase.”

  I marked off those names, feeling a sense of relief. My story wouldn’t be as dramatic if Chase had died. “Martin Hatcher?”

  Jonathon considered this. “Keep him on your list. Martin owns a saddle and tack store at the end of Main Street.” He pointed to my list. “When did he come here?”

  “2009.”

  He nodded. “I always thought he was a little odd. I’ve stopped by to talk to him several times. Nice enough, but when I invite him to church, he shuts down on me. I asked him once if he had any family. He acted like I’d asked him if he was an ax murderer.”

  I put a star next to Martin Hatcher’s name. “What about Steven Reinhardt?”

  “No.” Jonathon answered so quickly it startled me.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “Tell me more about him.”

  “Trust me. He isn’t Terrance Chase. First of all, he’s too young. Only in his twenties. Steven’s had a tough life. He came to Sanctuary to get a fresh start.”

  “Okay. No problem.” I scratched the name off my list. “The next name is Peter Bakker.”

  Jonathon thought for a moment. “I never met him, but he’s about the right age. He moved away not long after his brother came here. According to Evan, their mother was ill and Peter went home to Ohio to care for her. Evan had been her caretaker for many years. Once Peter took over, Evan decided to stay in Sanctuary. Nice man who has had a very lonely life. He seems happy here, though. Not really the bank robber type.” He grinned. “If he has millions of dollars, I’ll eat one of the bowties he wears every day.”

  I crossed his name off my list. “Terrance Chase doesn’t have a brother.” I looked over what was left of my list. “So I only have two names as possible candidates for Terrance Chase. Ben Johnson and Martin Hatcher. That narrows it down quite a bit. And they’re both still here. That’s good. I don’t suppose either one of these guys has a cleft chin?”

  “I have no idea. They both have beards.”

  “Oh, great. I don’t suppose you can ask them to shave?”

  Jonathon grunted. “Oh, sure. That wouldn’t look suspicious.” He frowned. “Can someone have a cleft chin fixed?”

  “Yes. I did some research about that on the Internet. It’s possible Chase had it altered. I mean, it would be a lot harder to identify him if he has a normal chin.”

  “So what do we do? With their beards, we can’t get a good look at their chins.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll have to study their faces. You can’t change bone structure.”

  “Will you let me see that picture again?”

  I got out my phone and brought up the mug shot again.

  “Not what you’d call a good-looking man.”

  “No. Frankly, there’s nothing that stands out about him—except for his red hair. I bet he’s colored it. Or shaved it off.”

  “That’s why I wanted to see this again. I hadn’t really noticed the first time. Martin has red hair.”

  “Really?”

  “Does that move him to the front of your list?” Jonathon asked.

  “Maybe. Sanctuary isn’t St. Louis. I’d be surprised if anyone here knows who Terrance Chase is. He might be more inclined to relax and keep his normal hair color.”

  “By the way, I should mention that there are a couple of other single men who’ve come to town recently. They’re not likely candidates, but I didn’t see them on your lists.”

  I frowned at him. “I thought all the names of new residents were added to the population records.”

  “Most of them, but for example, there’s a young man living at the church right now. His car broke down out on the main road a couple of days ago, and he couldn’t afford to get it fixed. He had nowhere else to go, so I offered him some work at the church—along with a place to sleep. He wouldn’t be in the records. Not only because he just got here, but also because he’s not officially a resident. Then there’s another guy who came to town last year to visit his sister. He’s still here, but he’s not a resident. Even though it’s been a while, he’s not planning to stay.”

  I nodded. “Okay, I get it. Neither one of them could be Chase.”

  “I agree. Just wanted to make sure you knew about them.” He paused for a moment before saying, “Has it occurred to you that if Chase does know that you’re looking for him, he may have taken off already?”

  “Yes. But that would actually point us right to him, wouldn’t it? So if one of our possible suspects suddenly disappears, there’s a pretty good chance he’s our man.”

  “You’re right.” Jonathon took his keys from his pocket. “Now, I’ve got to get to the church and help set things up. You’re coming, aren’t you?”

  I nodded. “Tonight I’d like you to point out the two men on our list if they show up at the supper. Even if he’s using a disguise, I’m still hoping I’ll recognize him.”

  “Okay, but we’ll have to be careful. I don’t want these guys to think we’re talking about them.”

  “But we will be.”

  “I realize that. You know what I mean.”

  I nodded. “I’ll use caution.”

  “You realize that whoever attacked you might be at the supper.”

  That idea made my stomach clench, but I kept my face expressionless so Jonathon couldn’t see how much it worried me. “I doubt they’ll bother me with so many people around. But we should probably keep our eyes peeled. Watch for someone acting suspicious. Especially if we notice strange behavior by Ben Johnson or Martin Hatcher.”

  Jonathon fiddled with his keys “Look, whoever confronted you in the basement had to have been watching you. They knew where you’d be and when. If it’s Chase, he’ll want to protect himself. If it’s someone looking for Chase, or for the money, they’ll want to find him or it before you do.” He stared into my eyes. “I know you don’t want to contact the authorities yet, but I have a friend, Paul Gleason. He’s a deputy sheriff here in Madison County. He’ll be at the supper. I’d like you to talk to him. At least let him know what’s going on.”

  “No.” The word came out loud enough that a couple at the table near us turned to look at me. “No,” I said again, more quietly. “Like I said, I want to at least have a name to give him. Right now I have nothing. Talking to him at this point would be a waste of his time.”

  “Are you saying that because you really don’t think you have enough information to make it worth his while or because you’re protecting your story?”

  “Both.” I reached over and grabbed his hand. “Please, Jonathon. This is important. It—it’s everything to me. This will pull me out of the muck my life has been and into something new. Something better. I want to be able to hold my head up and be someone. Someone worthwhile.” I also wanted to find Chase so I could help Tom, but I decided not to tell Jonathon about Tom being attacked in prison. After what had happened in the basement, I was afraid he’d contact his deputy sheriff friend without my permission, and I couldn’t risk that.

  Jonathon sighed deeply. “Oh, Sophie. I’m afraid you’re confusing what you do with who you are, but I don’t have time to tackle that topic right now.” He gently pulled his hand from mine and grabbed his keys again. “Okay. For now I won’t tell anyone. But if one more thing happens. One more threat. One more dangerous situation, I’m talking to Paul myself. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I get it.”

  He glanced at his watch a second time. “I’ve got to go. I’m running late. If you want to come with me, you could help set up for the supper.”

  “I’d like that, but let me finish my pie first. I’ll walk to the church when I’m finished.”

  “Okay.” He stood up, took out his wallet, and tossed some money on the table. “I’ll see you there. And Sophie, tonight you are to stay within my sight at all times, do you understand me? I mean it.”

  “I will. And Jonathon,” I said softly, “you’ve started calling me Sophie. Please don’t make that mistake at the church, okay?”r />
  “I’ll try my best. If I mess up, you have my permission to kick me.”

  I smiled. “That will be my pleasure.”

  He didn’t laugh, just shot me one more concerned look and walked out of the restaurant. I was more determined than ever to find Terrance Chase. No matter who threatened me. I’d made a promise to Jonathon that I had no intention of keeping. I would do everything possible to keep Paul Gleason from interfering in my investigation. I couldn’t allow anyone to stop me from achieving my goal.

  Not even the man who held my heart in his hands.

  Chapter

  Sixteen

  After finishing my pie, I left the restaurant. The sidewalks were full of people walking toward the church, some of them carrying food. I walked the two blocks to the large building on the edge of town and saw cars and buggies parked next to one another. I was still rather impressed that the two churches did things together. It was a testimony to the kind of spirit I always thought churches should have.

  I was grateful Jonathon was trying to help me. I didn’t feel so alone, but I regretted telling him about my father. It was the elephant in the room. A wall that I’d erected because I’d accidentally shared something I had no intention of ever telling anyone. And of all the people to reveal my shame to, it had to be the one man I really cared about. Jonathon would never see me the way a man should see a woman he could love. Jonathon was a man of God, and I was a woman of . . . nothing.

  Tears pricked my eyelids, and I blinked them away. I had to concentrate on my goal. The possibility that Terrance Chase could be in the crowd tonight had me feeling exhilarated. This dinner might finally bring me everything I’d wanted for years. My father’s face flashed in front of me. “You ain’t nothin’ but trash, girl. And you ain’t never goin’ to be nobody.” But I would be somebody. I would be the reporter who found Terrance Chase. Something even the FBI couldn’t do. Something no other reporter in the world had been able to accomplish.

  I followed the people going through the front door of Agape Fellowship. The interior was extremely attractive. Walls painted light beige with dusky blue carpet on the floors. Pictures used to decorate the foyer showed Jesus, but they were like nothing I’d seen before. In one painting, a small child sat on Jesus’ knee. In another, Jesus was laughing. Conservative Mennonites didn’t have pictures of Jesus, but if they had, I was pretty sure Jesus wouldn’t be laughing. It wasn’t until I’d left Kingdom that I began to see images of Christ. They all seemed pretty much the same. The Last Supper, a side view of Jesus looking up, paintings of the crucifixion by some of the great masters. For some reason, I found them all flat and uninspiring. But these more contemporary paintings were different. There was something almost alive in them. I was just turning away to follow the crowd heading through a door I assumed led to the room where the supper was being held, when I noticed one other painting. A young girl looked up to Jesus, a tear running down the side of her face. He cradled her face in His hands and stared into her eyes, as if trying to comfort her. I was shocked by the image. The little girl was the spitting image of me as a child. I couldn’t tear myself away, and I stood there, unable to move, until I realized someone was touching my elbow.