by Debby Giusti
William closed the door, engaged the lock and jammed the top of a kitchen chair under the knob. He did the same at the front door before returning to her. With his arm protectively around her waist, he ushered her to the table, where he struck a match and lit the lamp.
Standing side by side, they looked around the house. Julianne moaned at the chaos and clutched his hand for support.
Upstairs, a door opened and closed, then footsteps sounded on the stairs. She glanced up to see Aunt Mary on the landing.
“Oh, Julianne!” Her aunt’s cry tore at her heart. “Are you all right?”
She nodded, unable to find her voice.
“Someone broke in,” William explained. “From the havoc, he appeared to be searching for something.”
Mary raced down the stairway, nearly tripping over her feet. She hugged Julie and rubbed her hand over William’s shoulder. When she pulled back and raised her hands to her throat, her eyes were wide and her face contorted. “The house—”
Julianne looked around at the main room. Surrounded by the full magnitude of the upheaval, she rested her head on William’s strong shoulder and tried to comprehend what had happened. The drawers were pulled from the cabinets, and papers from her father’s desk were strewn everywhere. Tablecloths had been pulled from the chest and cluttered the floor.
Just as in the main room, the cabinets and drawers in the kitchen hung open, and items had been moved and rearranged. Even the pantry was in disarray.
Before going to bed last night, she had checked the doors and ensured they were locked. If the doors were locked, then the person who had entered the house had a key.
She shivered, knowing someone had been here while she and her aunt slept upstairs. With the raging storms, she doubted they would have heard him if he had climbed the stairs. The thought of what could have happened made her stomach roil and her heart pound even harder.
“You need to call the sheriff,” William prompted her.
She stepped out of his embrace, feeling an instant chill, and fumbled to retrieve the cell she had placed in the pocket of her bathrobe earlier.
“The sheriff will wish I never returned to Mountain Loft when I tell him someone entered my house. I can’t be one hundred percent sure, but the man who broke in seemed different from the man with the bandana.”
“You think he was a different person?”
She nodded. “That’s what worries me even more than three attacks in as many days. I didn’t see a bandana.”
“So at least two different people have come after you?”
Julianne feared what William said was true.
* * *
William waited on the porch after Julianne called the sheriff’s office. Hearing a siren in the distance, he hurried to the end of the drive and flagged down the sheriff. “Thanks for getting here so quickly.”
Sheriff Paul Taylor leaned through his open window. “Dispatch said someone entered the Graber home?”
“Julianne and her aunt are upstairs changing. I told them not to disturb the main floor. Julie surprised the burglar. He choked her, but she fought back, and he fled. The kitchen door was open, and she’s sure she locked it last night.”
The sheriff parked in the drive and walked to the house. He snapped a few photos of the porch, then pushed open the door and stepped inside.
He let out a breath. “It’s a wonder the women didn’t hear the commotion.”
“It stormed all night. The thunder and the rain on the tin roof probably drowned out any noise he made.”
Using his cell phone, the sheriff photographed the room from various angles. He zoomed in on a number of the papers strewn across the floor. “These look like farm documents.”
“Julianne will know about them.” William glanced up to see her standing on the landing.
“I came downstairs this morning to stoke the fire and brew coffee,” Julianne quickly explained as she joined the men in the living area. “When I tried to light the oil lamp, he attacked me.”
“The doors were locked?” the sheriff asked.
“I remember checking them last night. Mary did, as well. Yes, both entrances were locked.”
“Who else has a key?”
Mary followed Julianne downstairs. “No one that either of us know about.”
The sheriff shook his head in frustration, then he glared at Julianne as if she was the suspect. “Are you keeping any secrets from me, Ms. Graber? You hiding something here in the house?”
From her expression, it was clear she didn’t appreciate the sheriff’s comment. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, nor do I know why anyone would break into the house.”
“Ma’am, I hate to tell you, but you may have more than one person interested in your property. If the attacker had a key on the first and second nights, wouldn’t he have entered the house those nights, as well?”
“I—I don’t know, but I don’t like thinking more than one person is prowling around here.”
“Did you see his bandana?”
She shook her head. “It was dark this morning, but I don’t recall him wearing a mask.”
“Then you saw his face.”
“I told you it was dark.”
A second patrol car turned into the drive. The sheriff went outside to talk to the deputy, who took fingerprints and more photographs. Once the sheriff gave Aunt Mary the go-ahead to tidy the house, William helped her return the items to the various drawers and cabinets while the sheriff talked to Julianne on the porch. She frowned during most of the conversation and glanced occasionally through the window at William.
“Julianne plans to stay here until she sells the farm.” Aunt Mary shook her head in frustration. “I tried to convince her to come to my house in Willkommen, but she won’t hear of it.”
“You could both stay at my house,” he suggested.
“You’re generous, but we couldn’t do that.”
“Of course you could, if Julianne weren’t so stubborn.”
Mary smiled. “She gets that from her father.”
“If you won’t stay with me, then I’ll need to shore up your security. I saw some dead-bolt locks in the workshop. I’ll install them on both doors so that even with a key, the burglar won’t be able to get in.”
Will hurried to the workshop and came back with the locks. He drilled holes and screwed the locks in place. By the time Julianne entered the house, William had new locks on the front door and was ready to tackle the kitchen entrance.
“The sheriff is taking another look around outside.” She glanced at the hardware in his hand. “Seems you’ve solved one of our problems.”
“Stay at my house, Julianne.”
“Aunt Mary and I will be fine. I’m not worried, Will.”
But he knew she was. He could see it in her tired eyes and the pull on her lips.
The sheriff knocked on the door and then opened it without being invited in. “My deputy and I are heading back to town. I’ll let you know if we discover anything else. We’ll run those prints.” He glanced at Julianne. “I don’t need to tell you to keep your doors locked.”
“William’s installing additional locks,” she said.
“They’ll be a deterrent. Stay inside at night and remember trouble can strike in the daytime, as well. Is your phone charged?”
“It is, and I can charge it from my car when the battery runs down.”
“That’ll work. Call me if you uncover anything as you tidy up the house.”
“Thank you, Sheriff.”
“Did I mention there’s a motel on the mountain road and a new B and B—”
“I’m staying here,” she insisted.
The sheriff glanced at William. His gaze held a hint of question. “Don’t forget to stop by my office, Will. I need your prints, especially since you always appear after
something happens.”
William had enjoyed dinner with Julianne and her aunt the night prior, which meant his fingerprints could be anywhere. Once the sheriff had his prints on file, William might go from being a helpful neighbor to a person of interest—a person of interest suspected of breaking into Julianne Graber’s house.
* * *
Julianne’s body ached as she lay on her bed and tried to rest after the sheriff left. She had a pounding headache. No wonder. Someone had come after her for the last three nights, and she’d been physically attacked.
The man who had broken into the house had been taller and bulkier than the man who had accosted her the first night, and his breath had a distinctive odor she couldn’t identify. He had been searching for something. She’d startled him, and he had attacked her in order to get away.
What had she heard when she stared after him through the open doorway? Nothing, not the clip-clop of horses’ hooves or the hum of a car engine. Had he fled her house on foot?
Even though Julianne was tired, sleep eluded her. An hour later, she hurried back downstairs to find William in the kitchen drinking coffee.
He glanced up as she entered and hesitated as if waiting for her acceptance of his presence. “Your aunt invited me to stay, but I can go if you would feel more comfortable without me.”
His eyes gave him away. She saw into the depths of his goodness and his willingness to help her. She thought back to the lake and the sweetness of his kiss. If only she could change the horrific crime that had happened later that night. With a sigh, she pushed aside the memory, needing to focus on her present problem.
“A lot has taken place since I arrived home, William, and you’ve been with me through much of it. Bennie loved you like a brother. He could read a person’s heart. I like to think that I can, as well. You’ve always tried to protect me.”
“I’m not sure the sheriff shares that belief.”
“The sheriff was mistaken about what happened to Bennie and my father. He is mistaken about you, as well.”
“Julianne, I...” He reached for her hand.
The warmth of his touch buoyed her spirits. She stepped closer and looked up at him expectantly.
Aunt Mary’s footsteps sounded on the stairs. “I’ll have food ready in a minute,” she said as she hurried to the stove, seemingly unaware of the close moment she had interrupted.
Julianne’s cheeks burned.
William squeezed her hand before she pulled away. “How about a cup of coffee?” he asked.
“That sounds wunderbaar.” Julianne needed coffee to get her mind off the strength of William’s hold on her heart. She also needed to tell both her aunt and William about the cash supposedly hidden at the house. Was that what the prowler had been searching for last night? An even more important question was where had he gotten the key?
EIGHT
William enjoyed the late breakfast and was grateful to share the meal with Julianne and her aunt, especially after the sheriff’s visit and the comment he had made about William appearing whenever Julianne was in danger. Not that the sheriff had called him a person of interest, per se, but the innuendo was there. No doubt, Julianne and her aunt were well aware of the point the sheriff had been trying to make.
When they finished eating, Aunt Mary refilled his coffee cup and then patted his hand when Julianne excused herself to get something from upstairs. “I must ask your forgiveness, William, for my comments when you wanted to talk to Julianne so long ago.”
“The day I stopped by your house in Willkommen?”
Mary nodded. “I was worried. Julianne had suffered such shock. I knew you were a friend of Bennie’s. The sheriff had mentioned at the beginning of his investigation that he wondered if you were involved.”
“He’s always held me in low esteem, which I probably deserved in my youth.”
She offered him a weak smile. “When you stopped by the house that day, I was not ready to see Julianne hurt again. You were leaving home, you told me. I do not know if you remember, but you wore Englischer clothing, and you were driving a friend’s car. I saw your desire to leave the faith reflected in your gaze, and that was not what I wanted Julianne to see, especially when she was struggling with Gott.”
Mary glanced at the stairwell as if to ensure Julianne could not overhear their conversation. “I believe she still struggles. All of those concerns played into my decision.”
William appreciated her forthrightness.
“Julianne thinks her new life is better than the plain way,” Mary admitted. “I know it is the hurt she endures and the loss of her datt and brother. Grief weighs heavy on her heart still. She sees the world through that grief, which clouds her vision. What troubles me most is that she has turned her back on Gott.” Mary narrowed her eyes. “Suppose she never opens her heart to the Lord? What will happen to her?”
“Gott forgives, Mary.”
“Yah, but we must ask for forgiveness first. This, I believe, she does not ask.” She hesitated for a moment and then squeezed William’s hand. “You are a gut influence, and I am grateful you contacted me. Being with Julianne again fills me with hope. She would not have reached out to me on her own, so I am glad you brought us together.”
Julianne hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen with an envelope in her hand. She glanced at both of them. “Is something wrong?”
“No, dear.” Aunt Mary pointed to the envelope. “Is this what you wanted to show us?”
“My father wrote this note to my mother. I found it tucked away in his desk. When I saw the papers scattered over the floor, I wondered if the burglar was searching for what was mentioned in this note.”
“You have me interested.” Aunt Mary moved closer as Julianne read what her father had written.
“Daniel encouraged me to handle my money wisely,” Mary acknowledged when Julie was finished reading. “He said the bank was a safe institution. He also talked about investments that would grow my money.”
“What type of investments?” Julianne asked.
“Mainly mutual funds and certificates of deposit. I did as he suggested through my own bank and receive a bit of interest each year, so his advice was appreciated.” Mary glanced at the letter. “But I know nothing about hidden money here at the house.”
“Perhaps that’s why the prowler broke in,” Julianne said. “Although how would he know about the secret funds?”
“Did you mention the note to the sheriff?” Mary asked.
Julianne shook her head. “I didn’t mention it. He...” She glanced away.
Aunt Mary rubbed her arm. “The sheriff has a gruff manner, dear, but he means well.”
“Deputy O’Reilly said someone formerly in the sheriff’s department disagreed with the sheriff’s determination.”
“Did you get his name?” Will asked.
“Ike Vaughn. He lives higher up on the mountain. If I could get directions to his house, I’d like to talk to him.”
William held up his hand. “Whoa, Julie. We’ve got a more immediate problem.”
“You mean the man or men who keep coming after me?”
“Exactly. You and Mary should stay with me. As I mentioned, you can have the entire upstairs portion of the house. After my father’s death, I moved to the spare room on the first floor.”
She hesitated for a long moment. “We’ll be fine here,” she finally said.
“You’re not thinking clearly.”
“This is my family home, William. It’s my responsibility to find a good buyer for the property.”
“But you don’t have to stay here, Jules.”
She grabbed her coffee cup and placed it in the sink, as if cutting him off. “Right now, I need to search the house for the money my father hid. If the burglar found the money, he would be long gone. He must have been searching when I startled him.”
&nbs
p; She returned to the table and stacked the plates. “I don’t doubt that my datt would salt away money so my mother would have funds if he died. I’m just not sure where he would hide the cash.”
“This is like a game of hide-and-seek, like the children play,” Mary said as she helped clear the table. “Although it’s much more dangerous.”
After the kitchen was tidy, the three of them started at one end of the downstairs and searched every place that could be a hiding spot. William felt the floorboards, looking for a false bottom. He tapped along the walls, listening for a hollow sound. Mary and Julianne pulled open every drawer and cabinet just as the prowler had done, but ended up with nothing to show for their efforts.
“Should we look upstairs?” Aunt Mary asked.
They found nothing in the bedrooms, so they searched the outside structures, including her father’s workshop and the barn, but came up empty-handed.
“The letter was written before your mother’s death,” William mused as they returned to the house. “It could have referred to money your father had saved long ago. Perhaps a need arose, and he used the cash.”
He turned to Julianne. “Do you remember an unexpected purchase or a large payment that was due? Did your father buy more land or farm equipment? He could even have spent it at the cattle auction.”
“Dad didn’t discuss farm business with me. Bennie might have known, but I stayed with my mother. I can tell you the approximate amount she spent on groceries each month, but I know nothing about farm expenses, except...” She hesitated.
William watched as she chewed her lip and stared into the distance.
“Except what?” he prompted.
“Except the ledgers I reviewed yesterday showed that the farm had prospered, yet the bank account statements following his death did not reflect that properly.”
“Farmers have their wealth in land and in their livestock, not necessarily as a lump sum of cash in a bank account.”
“I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t recall any large purchases or anything out of the ordinary that would drain money from his account or make him spend the small nest egg he had secreted away for his family.”
