Simple Choices

by Nancy Mehl

  When I finished, Abel was silent. “The sheriff told us about the girl who was murdered, but he assured us that it had nothing at all to do with Hannah.”

  “He might be right, but I think we need to consider it. The most important thing is that we realize she’s in trouble. Finding the bracelet where I did, and the fact that it was closed, is an indication that Hannah was trying to send us a message.”

  “Someone told me that the girl in Topeka was kept alive for several days before she was killed,” Abel said, his voice trembling. “So if this is true, and if Hannah was abducted by this man, she might still be alive?”

  “Yes. That’s why it’s so necessary for us to find her as quickly as possible.”

  “But why did Sheriff Taylor tell us Hannah wasn’t abducted?” Emily said, her hands clasped together so tightly her knuckles were white. “He keeps assuring us that she’s just run away and that he’ll find her.”

  “Because he really believes that,” I said. “I tried to tell him that he might be wrong, but he hasn’t listened to me. The good news is that he’s finally contacted the KBI about Hannah. And Susan Murphy is also going to get in touch with them.”

  “Mrs. Murphy? The social worker?” Abel looked puzzled. “Why would she help us? She seems committed to taking Hannah away from us when she comes home.”

  “She’s not going to do anything like that,” I reassured them. “She and I had a long talk, and she thinks you’re great parents. She’s trying to help us find Hannah, too.”

  The Muellers were silent. I knew I wasn’t supposed to tell them about the serial killer theory, but I couldn’t help it. I felt time was of the essence.

  “I don’t like being kept in the dark about my daughter’s disappearance,” Abel said. “Sheriff Taylor should be giving us this information, not you, Gracie. I think we need to ask him to come over here and speak to us. If there’s anything else …”

  “There is,” I said. I felt like someone had opened the floodgates. A part of me tried to hold back, but I couldn’t seem to control myself. I told them about the red truck and the bumper sticker. Then I told them about Rufus.

  Abel jumped to his feet. “You’re telling me that this man may have my little girl?” His face was red with anger. “Why hasn’t the sheriff looked into this? You told him this last night?”

  “Yes, and he’s probably checking it out now,” I said, flustered by his reaction. “It’s important that we let him do his job. If we tip Rufus off too soon, we might not find Hannah.”

  I stood up and tried to grab Abel’s arm. He shook me off. “Nonsense,” he growled. “I’m going over there now and get my daughter.” He pointed at Emily. “You stay here. I’ll call you as soon as I can.” With that, he stormed out of the house.

  I jumped up and ran to the phone in the hallway, fear squeezing my chest. I called the sheriff’s department in Council Grove. Pat wasn’t in the office, but they patched me through to the radio in his car.

  Thankfully, he picked up right away. I quickly explained the situation. After bawling me out profusely, he hung up. He’d just left Harmony but promised to turn around and hightail it to Rufus’s shop. After a quick word to Emily and Jonathan, I ran out to my car and took off after Abel. His car wasn’t even in sight. By the time I got to downtown Harmony and parked in front of Ludwig’s Meats, Abel was already inside the shop. I jumped out of my car and pushed open the front door. As I did, I saw Pat’s patrol car speeding up the street. He almost ran into a horse and buggy that had pulled out from the curb. He squealed his brakes and swerved to avoid a collision. Then he slid up next to my car, jumping out and pointing at me. I figured he was trying to tell me to stay out of the store, but I couldn’t let something bad happen because I’d shot my mouth off before I should have. I pushed the front door open and ran into the main shop area. Abel was there all right, and he had Rufus in a headlock. The frightened man was trying to say something, but no words came out of his mouth. Probably because Abel was cutting off his air supply.

  The door swung open behind me and Pat rushed past. “Abel, let him go!” he yelled.

  “He has Hannah,” Abel cried. “He has my little girl!”

  Pat grabbed Abel’s arms and pulled. “No, he doesn’t,” he shouted. “Abel, Rufus had nothing to do with Hannah’s disappearance. He wasn’t even in town the night she went missing.”

  Abel didn’t seem to hear Pat. He just held on to Rufus who was beginning to gasp frantically for air.

  “Abel! Listen to me,” Pat said loudly, putting himself only inches from the enraged father’s face. “Rufus doesn’t have Hannah. He doesn’t. You’ve got the wrong man.”

  Finally, Abel’s grip seemed to loosen a bit. I heard Rufus take a deep breath. Then he began to struggle, trying to get out of Abel’s arms.

  Pat pulled hard and finally forced Abel to loosen his grip. The meat store owner dropped to the floor and then half-crawled and half-scurried to the other side of the room. Pat held on to Abel for dear life. Then he pushed him up against the counter, pinning his arms behind him.

  “Abel, I checked Rufus out right after Gracie told me about the truck. He told me he spent the night with his sister in Topeka and then picked up a new freezer Monday morning before driving back to Harmony. I checked out his story first thing this morning. It’s all true. He wasn’t even in town the night Hannah disappeared. He didn’t get back until the next morning.” He turned and glared at me. “And it might interest you to know that the other murders associated with the serial killer you’re so interested in couldn’t have been committed by Rufus because he was in the army—and in Iraq during the last two. Before that, he lived all the way across the country from where the other killings occurred. And his bumper sticker is about the Chicago Bears, the football team? Rufus is from Illinois. Gracie, I asked you to keep quiet about this. Do you see what your interference has caused? What if Abel had seriously hurt this man?”

  My lips couldn’t form a response. He was right. It was my fault. I’d jumped the gun and had almost caused a tragedy. I turned around and fled the building. Then I drove home as quickly as I could, determined to keep my nose out of anything further having to do with Hannah Mueller. I almost ran off the road several times because I couldn’t see through the tears that flooded my eyes.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Although I didn’t want to explain to my family what I’d done, it was obvious I was upset when I came in the door. Mom and Dad took me into the kitchen and sat me down at the table so Papa couldn’t hear us. After I spilled out the whole story, my mother scooted her chair over next to mine and held out her arms. I fell into them.

  “Honey,” she said in a soothing voice, “you were trying to help. Your zeal to find Hannah overcame your sense of discretion. It happens. Especially to someone like you who cares so much. Pat will understand, and so will Abel. You need to forgive yourself.” She held my tear-stained face in her hands and looked deeply into my eyes. “Your concern for others is one of the qualities that makes you so special. You meant no harm, you just wanted to rescue Hannah if there was any way possible.”

  I nodded but couldn’t stop crying. “I really did. But Mom, you should have seen Abel. I didn’t know he could get so angry. I thought Mennonites were supposed to be peaceful.”

  My father chuckled. “Snicklefritz, I don’t care who Abel is, he’s a father. He saw the chance to save his daughter, and he went for it.” Dad reached over and stroked my arm. “He did the same thing you did. He reacted out of his emotion. Trust me, he’s just as sorry as you are. Maybe even more so. He’s not blaming you right now. He’s blaming himself.”

  “Re–really?” Somehow knowing that Abel had messed up, too, made me feel a little better.

  As my parents tried to comfort me, the phone rang. My dad left the kitchen and went into the living room to answer it. A few minutes later, he returned. By then, my mother had fixed me a meat loaf sandwich and a tall glass of milk. Comfort food, but it helped. Somehow I couldn’
t be too upset munching on a meat loaf sandwich. The ketchup on top combined in a weird way with the mayo my mother had slathered on the thick pieces of white bread. It was delicious.

  “That was Pat,” Dad said when he came back into the kitchen. “He said to tell you everything is all right. Abel apologized to Rufus who took it pretty well considering. Pat’s on his way here.”

  “No!” I exclaimed, spitting out a good chunk of meat loaf onto the kitchen table. “I don’t want to talk to him.” Listening to him yell at me was the last thing I wanted to endure right now.

  “Gracie, he just wants to make sure you’re okay. He’s not mad. In fact, he said to tell you he understands.”

  That sure didn’t sound like something Pat would say. But I couldn’t see my father joining forces with Pat against me. Maybe it was his job to hold me down while Pat took out his revolver and ended my trail of terror. “Whatever,” I said finally. “But I’ve had all the conflict I can take for one day.”

  “Speaking of today, what time are we leaving for Sam’s?” Dad asked.

  “We’re supposed to be there by two.” Then something struck me. “What about Papa? Will he be able to come?”

  “He’s still pretty sore,” Mom said. “I’m staying here with him. You and Sweetie go over the wedding plans by yourselves. You can tell me all about it when you get home, and then we’ll all get together again in a few days. This will give us time to talk about everything and see if you want any changes.”

  “Wait a minute,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re the mother. Your part in the planning is crucial. Maybe I could …”

  “Stay here?” she said with a smile. “Sorry. I think the bride needs to be present.” She came over and hugged me. “It’s okay, sweetie. Really. Dad wants to get to know Sam a little better, and you need to hear what Sweetie’s come up with so far. I’m really not necessary this time around. Besides, I love spending time with Papa. Once you make the big decisions, I’ll help with the details.”

  I chewed and swallowed the last bite of my sandwich, not certain my mother was really happy to be stuck at home. But I had little choice. Since my father was determined to talk to Sam today, she seemed to be the only person available to watch Papa.

  “Okay, I guess,” I said slowly. “But I still think you should be going.”

  “Why don’t you see if Sweetie can come over here Friday for lunch?” Mom said. “I’ll fix us all something and that way no one will have to stay home alone with Papa. And I’m sure he’d love to see Sweetie again.”

  “That sounds good.” A loud knock on the door made me jump. Pat. I was extremely embarrassed by my actions and had no idea how I could face him. If Rufus really had been involved in Hannah’s situation, I could have scared him away. I’d spoken out of turn and did so after Pat had trusted me with information I should have kept confidential. From now on, I was pretty sure he’d never tell me anything he didn’t want the whole world to know. And how was I ever going to face Rufus? I might never be able to set foot in downtown Harmony again.

  My father started to get up.

  “You stay off that leg, Dad. I’ll get it.” Reluctantly I went to open the front door, but before I had the chance, Pat pushed it open and came in. I didn’t say anything, just stood there, waiting for the inevitable.

  “That was quite a scene,” Pat said, his expression solemn. “I guess I don’t really need to say anything about what happened, do I?”

  “No. I’m sorry. I just got so … so …”

  “Enthusiastic?” he finished for me.

  “I was going to say manic, but enthusiastic sounds better.”

  “Pat, have a seat,” my dad said pointing to the rocking chair. Papa was on the couch, sound asleep, so I stood next to my father who sat in a chair across from Pat.

  “Just wanted you to know that the situation is under control,” Pat said. “Rufus survived, and Abel has calmed down. He’s thoroughly appalled by his actions.”

  “Mennonites are taught to live at peace with everyone,” my father said. “He must be extremely upset about the way he treated Rufus.”

  Pat shrugged. “Most of the cases I’m called out on have to do with families who can’t get along. For all his religion, seems Pastor Mueller didn’t do much better than anyone else.”

  I looked over at my dad who frowned at Pat. Were we going to get into a debate on religion? I’d been praying for Pat for months, but I wanted the Holy Spirit to prepare the ground of his heart before I tried to sow seed. Right now, his heart seemed too hard to receive the love of God. My father must have sensed the same thing because he stayed quiet. Not the way my volatile father usually did things. I was very well aware of where my “enthusiasm” came from.

  “So now what?” I asked. “Maybe Rufus isn’t the killer. But someone has Hannah. We’ve got to find her before it’s too late.”

  Pat raised one eyebrow and stared at me. “Well, with your friend Susan Murphy bugging the KBI, we may end up with too much attention focused on Hannah. I’d rather have avoided that.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked with fervor. “We need all the attention we can get. Time is running out!”

  Pat shook his head. “If Hannah has been taken by a stranger, and I’m emphasizing the word if, the more activity you stir up, the more likely he is to take off or kill her. But I don’t suppose you thought of that, did you, Miss Marple?”

  I stared at him with my mouth open. “Why did you call me that? Sam is the only one …” I pointed at him. “You got that from Sam, didn’t you?”

  “I plead the fifth.” He stood to his feet. “Now you listen to me, Gracie Temple,” he said, his eyebrows knit together so tightly they looked like a unibrow. “Under no circumstances whatsoever are you to put your pretty little nose into this investigation again. And I’m as serious as I can be about this. Believe it or not, I actually know what I’m doing. I realize you don’t believe it, but it’s true nonetheless.” Pat looked at my father. “Can I enlist your help to keep her concentration focused on her upcoming wedding instead of my case?”

  “Your case?” I sputtered. “You said there wasn’t any case. You said Hannah ran away. You said …”

  “What I said was that I’d take care of it,” Pat said sternly. “I’ve been listening to you. If you can remember just a couple of hours ago, during the ruckus you caused at the meat store, I told you I’d followed up on your information about Rufus, remember?”

  I thought about it for a moment. “I—I guess you did.”

  “Yes, I guess I did. And if you have any more great ideas, I want you to share them with me. But I want you to let me take care of checking them out. Am I making myself clear?”

  I nodded. “Got it. I’m not looking to cause any more violent confrontations for a while.” I studied his face for a few seconds. “Wait a minute, just when did Sam tell you about the Miss Marple thing? He certainly didn’t do it while I was around.”

  Pat headed toward the door. He put his hand on the knob and smiled at me. “Well, maybe he told me this morning when we had breakfast.”

  “You and Sam had breakfast? Are you serious? Does this mean …”

  “It means that we may be making some progress.” He glared at me. “And I think it will continue unless I have to lock up his fiancée for impeding the course of an investigation.”

  “I am not impeding anything! I’ve been trying to …” The look on his face brought a quick halt to the rest of my protest.

  “Grace Marie …” my father warned.

  “Okay, okay,” I snapped. “If I have any more bright ideas, I’ll contact you first before I do anything about them.”

  “You promise?” Pat said.

  I held my right hand up. “I swear. But please, please, Pat. Do everything you can to find Hannah. I believe she’s alive, but we need to locate her soon.”

  Pat took his hand off the doorknob and his eyes sought mine. “And why are you so sure she’s still alive?”

 
“Because God told us she is.”

  “God told who, Gracie?” he asked slowly.

  “The Muellers and me.”

  Pat didn’t respond, but the look on his face spoke volumes.

  “Look, you don’t believe in God, but we do. And I’m telling you that God told us she’s alive and that she’s coming home.”

  “Then why do you need me?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe God wants to show you that He really does exist and that He has a plan for you. Maybe saving Hannah is part of that plan.”

  Pat shook his head and stared at me like I’d just escaped from a loony bin. I could take his anger, but I really hated to be on the other end of his pity. “Gotta go,” he said finally. “Work on your wedding. Stay away from anyone else you think looks like a good suspect.”

  “I said I would.” I could hear the petulance in my voice, but I was tired and disgusted. Mostly with myself.

  Pat was halfway out the door when he stopped again. Now what?

  “Hey, one other thing. Something that’s been bothering me. I need you to tell me who told you about the color of the truck and the odd bumper sticker.”

  I hadn’t wanted to reveal the source of the information, but I no longer cared about protecting secrets. I just wanted Hannah to come home. I told Pat about Bill, carefully going over the conversation I’d had with him at the restaurant. “Why did you want to know?” I asked when I’d finished. “Is it important?”

  “No, not really. It’s just odd, that’s all,” Pat said. “No one was supposed to know about it.”

  “Bill’s nephew works for the paper, and he has a friend on the police department.” I watched his expression change. Doubt was clearly written on his face. “Do you have some reason to think Bill wasn’t telling the truth?”