The Agent's Secret Past

by Debby Giusti

  A muscle in McDougal’s jaw twitched. He leaned in closer. “Where was this witness eight years ago?”

  “Did you question the neighbors?” Becca asked.

  “I talked to Samuel Hershberger.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That he didn’t know who started the fire.”

  “You suspected arson?” Colby asked.

  “We suspected an overturned oil lamp.”

  Too bad he hadn’t talked to Samuel’s wife. Colby didn’t share the witness’s name. If Becca wanted to mention Sarah, she could make that call.

  The current sheriff would need to know, but there was something about McDougal’s insistence he had identified Jacob that made Colby question if the local law enforcement hadn’t cut corners. Claiming Jacob Yoder had died in the house fire solved McDougal’s need to close the double-murder case. The former sheriff had been ready to retire. Wrapping up the investigation quickly would have made his last days on the job that much easier.

  “Ezekiel Yoder was the same height and build as Jacob,” Becca said with determination as if unwilling to cut McDougal any slack. “We’ll check with the sheriff’s office next to see if there are any records of Ezekiel being seen in the last eight years. I’m sure we won’t find anything because you buried him.”

  She pushed her chair away from the table and stood. “Let me know if you remember anything else, sir.”

  McDougal frowned. “The case is closed, Rebecca.”

  “It’ll reopen when I arrest Jacob Yoder for killing a man at Fort Rickman, Georgia. The army will want to know who’s buried in the Amish cemetery under a tombstone marked with Yoder’s name. Be prepared to answer that question because I’ll be back.” She glanced at Colby. “We’ll both be back.”

  Colby stood, his chest swelling with pride at Becca’s assertiveness in dealing with the former sheriff. He followed her to his car.

  “Good police work in there,” he said as she slid past him into the passenger seat.

  “Thanks, but if McDougal had done his job eight years ago, we wouldn’t have this problem today. Back then, everything happened too fast. Even I knew that, but I was too grief stricken to ask questions.”

  She glanced at the sheriff’s home. “McDougal was wrong then. He’s still wrong.”

  Colby climbed behind the wheel and inserted the key in the ignition. “You were justified in coming back to Harmony, Becca.”

  “I needed you in there, Colby. McDougal still considers me a kid from the past. You provided a bigger threat to him.”

  “Seems you’re the one who got his attention.” He reached for her hand and wove his fingers through hers to show his support.

  “Where to now?” he asked.

  “The sheriff’s office downtown. It’s not far. Head to the main square and then take a left.”

  Disappointed to learn Lewis Stone, the current sheriff, was out of the office when they arrived, Becca and Colby left their business cards and asked for him to call them once he returned. On the way outside, Colby spotted a sandwich shop at the end of the block.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “Starving.”

  “Let’s grab some chow.” They each devoured a burger and fries before hurrying back to Colby’s car.

  “Elizabeth’s house next?” he asked once they buckled their seat belts.

  “If you don’t mind. I need to pick up my Honda.”

  Becca stared at the road ahead as Colby drove toward the town square and thought back to the emotional charge he’d felt when they’d both reached for the ketchup at the diner. Just as earlier, he had wrapped his fingers through hers, which caused Becca’s cheeks to turn pink and her eyes to widen.

  Now he wondered if he had made a mistake.

  He needed to stay in control when dealing with Special Agent Miller. They were two professionals, working together. Partners. Yet when he was with her, he felt like their relationship could grow into something more significant.

  Once past the square, Colby turned onto the street where Elizabeth lived and parked across from Becca’s car.

  Opening the passenger door, she smiled back at him. “Elizabeth may want me to come inside for a few minutes.”

  “I’ll wait. I don’t want you to be alone if Jacob is on the loose. Besides I’m in no hurry to get to Fort Rickman.”

  She didn’t object, which confirmed that their relationship had improved over the last few hours.

  “Give me a few minutes to say goodbye, and then we can be on our way.”

  Becca knocked on her friend’s door, then knocked again with more intensity.

  Elizabeth had planned to be home for the rest of the afternoon, but when the door remained closed, Colby stepped to the pavement. Becca glanced back at him for a split second and then turned the knob and peered through the doorway.

  “Elizabeth, it’s Becca.”

  Colby hustled toward the house and followed her inside. Silence greeted them.

  “Maybe she’s in the backyard?” Colby glanced into a large room where a full-size quilt was stretched over a wooden frame. The colors were flamboyant jewel tones accentuated with lush pinks and purples that didn’t seem in keeping with someone who had been raised Amish.

  Becca pointed through the large bay window to the backyard and drive. “Her car’s parked in the rear.”

  “She could have walked to town, or she might be visiting a neighbor,” Colby offered, hoping to calm the anxiety that flashed from Becca’s eyes.

  “You’re probably right.” She pulled a notepad and pen from her purse. “I’ll leave a note in the kitchen, by the sink. She’ll see it there.”

  Becca stepped into the kitchen.

  The paper and pen dropped to the floor. Dread settled over Colby’s shoulders. He knew before he entered the room what she’d found.

  “I’m so sorry,” he murmured as he crossed to where Becca stood, staring down at the older woman—no doubt Elizabeth—sprawled on the tile. The woman’s mouth hung open as if she was still screaming at the attacker who had cut her throat and taken her life.

  * * *

  Becca’s world spun out of control. She clamped down on her jaw and tried to stem the hot tears that stung her eyes.

  “It...it was Jacob,” she stammered. Her voice broke. She wrapped her hands around her waist unable to pull her eyes away from her friend’s face frozen in fear and disbelief.

  Tears flooded her eyes, and she gasped with gut-wrenching sorrow that swept over her like a giant tidal wave.

  Colby pulled her close and rubbed his hand over her shoulder, trying to comfort her. With the other, he gripped his cell and called 911. After providing the victim’s name and address, he added, “Notify the sheriff that it’s a homicide. We need law enforcement on site ASAP.”

  “Jacob saw my car in front of the house,” Becca told Colby once he disconnected. “He probably forced his way in after I left. He was looking for me.”

  “You can’t be sure what happened.”

  “He followed me from Fort Rickman.”

  “I was behind you, Becca. I would have noticed him.”

  She looked at Colby with pain-filled eyes. “Then he followed you.”

  “I didn’t see anyone,” he said too quickly. “Besides, Jacob might not be the killer.”

  She shook her head. “It’s him. He’s determined to take everyone from me.”

  Becca wiped her hands over her cheeks and struggled to remain strong. “Elizabeth took me in when I didn’t have any place to go. She...she encouraged me to join the military and leave the area. Had I stayed in town, Jacob would have come after me, but she saved me from him then. If only I could have saved her today.”

  Sirens sounded in the distance. The keening wail cut through the afternoon chill.
Becca stared down at Elizabeth’s body and the blood that pooled on the kitchen floor. Bending down, she noticed skin under the woman’s nails. Her friend had fought back, which meant Jacob would bear visible signs of the attack.

  “Thank you for that, Elizabeth.” Becca’s voice was a whisper. “We’ll catch him. I promise.”

  Colby put his arm around her waist and ushered her toward the foyer. “Let’s go outside. We don’t want to disturb the crime scene, and we can’t do anything for Elizabeth now.”

  Becca followed him onto the lawn where they flagged down the first patrol car as it rounded the corner. Two additional black-and-whites followed, along with an ambulance.

  They showed their identification to the first cop on scene. Colby gave him a quick rundown of what they had found before the officer hustled into the house along with two other cops and the paramedics. One officer remained with Becca and Colby, taking down the information they provided.

  Across the street, an old woman peered from the window of her small, one-story, frame home.

  “You talk to the cops,” Becca told Colby. “I want to question the inquisitive neighbor.”

  She hurried across the street. A frail woman with gray hair and pale blue eyes opened the door.

  Becca flashed her ID and gave her name. “There’s nothing to fear, ma’am. We’ve got lots of law enforcement officers on-site.”

  “I knew something bad had happened,” the woman said.

  “How’s that?”

  “I saw a man that looked suspicious earlier today. My daughter called and I talked to her on the phone for a few minutes. When I hung up and glanced outside again, his car was pulling away from the curb. There was a woman in the passenger seat.”

  “Could you identify either the driver or the passenger?”

  The old woman shook her head. “My eyes aren’t the best these days, but there’s a car out front that looks identical to the one I saw earlier.”

  Becca stared at the line-up of vehicles, police and civilian. “Which one?”

  “The green sedan.”

  “Did anyone else stop by Elizabeth’s house today?” Becca asked.

  “No one else that I saw. Only the people who left in the green car.”

  Becca’s heart sank. The neighbor wasn’t going to provide information they needed to apprehend the killer. The car she pointed out had a Fort Rickman decal on the windshield. The older woman had seen a man and woman earlier, but that couple had been Becca and Colby.

  Glancing at the police personnel scurrying across Elizabeth’s lawn, Becca knew Jacob Yoder had struck again.

  She wanted to bring him to justice, but she had no idea where Jacob was or what he was planning to do next.

  * * *

  Lewis Stone, Harmony’s current sheriff, arrived on scene some twenty minutes after the first patrol car. He was mid-forties and wore the same brown uniform as the other men, but four silver stars gleamed from his shirt lapels.

  Lewis apologized for being away from his desk earlier when Colby and Becca had stopped by his office. Having grown up in Harmony, he remembered the Mueller murders and listened intently when Becca told him about Ezekiel Yoder and voiced her suspicion that Jacob Yoder was still alive.

  “I’ll quiz Frank McDougal and see what he can tell me,” the sheriff assured her.

  Becca relaxed her stance ever so slightly, no doubt relieved to finally have a person in law enforcement who believed her story.

  “Sarah Hershberger met Jacob’s brother,” Colby explained to the sheriff. “You might want to talk to her. From what she said, the two brothers were similar in stature and appearance.”

  “I’ll check with Sarah as well as McDougal. As I recall, that was his last case before retirement.”

  By nine that night, both Colby and Becca knew they could do nothing more in Harmony. They said goodbye to Lewis and then climbed into their respective cars and headed to Fort Rickman.

  The back road to the interstate was a twisty, two-lane that loomed dark and foreboding. Becca had a heavy foot on the gas pedal. Colby followed close behind and flicked his gaze to the narrow shoulder on each side of the paved lanes as well as the stretches of wooded acreage beyond.

  They hadn’t seen any cars since they’d left Harmony, which underscored the remoteness of the area. Colby was anxious to cross the state line and be back in Georgia.

  A road sign warned of an approaching curve. Becca decelerated slightly. Instinctively, he tapped the brake, relieved when his car responded. For a second, he lost sight of her car as she entered a second hairpin turn.

  Rounding the curve, Colby saw her vehicle in the middle of the road. He tramped on the brake and screeched to a stop. A tall pine had fallen across the roadway, blocking their progress.

  Becca was out of her car before he could caution her to be careful. Stepping onto the pavement, Colby glanced into the dense forest on each side of the road, his internal warning system on high alert.

  The sky was clear, the wind calm. No reason for a fallen tree. He unbuttoned the safety on his holster. A sense of foreboding ran up his spine and made him stare even harder into the dark recesses of the night.

  “Watch out, Becca,” he said as she approached the fallen tree and then turned to face him. “We’ll have to move the log off the road.”

  Inadvertently, she stepped into the arc of illumination from her car’s headlights.

  Colby’s shoulders tensed. “You’re exposed, Becca. Get away from the light.”

  He moved toward her. She stepped aside, but not fast enough.

  A shot rang out.

  For half a heartbeat, Becca froze.

  Colby lunged and shoved her to the pavement. Two more shots pummeled the log. A third pinged against her open driver’s door.

  A car engine whined in the distance. Tires screeched along a narrow path that paralleled the newer two-lane.

  “It was a trap,” he said, his tone sharp. “You could have been killed.”

  She nodded. “I wasn’t thinking.”

  At least, she hadn’t been hurt.

  “Let’s wait a couple minutes before we make any sudden moves just in case someone’s hunkered down in the woods.”

  He listened, but heard only the wind in the pines and the croak of the tree frogs. Satisfied the assailant had left in the car with the squealing tires, Colby scooted off Becca.

  “Sorry,” he said, hearing her groan.

  “Not a problem,” she mumbled.

  “Keep low while I check out the area.” He rose to his knees and stared into the shadowed underbrush.

  Her head popped up. “I’m coming with you.”

  “Becca, please.”

  “Don’t try to baby me, Colby.”

  “Baby you? I’m trying to keep you alive.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  What would have happened if she’d been driving home alone? He visualized Becca’s bullet-ridden body bleeding on the pavement just as Elizabeth’s lifeblood had darkened her kitchen floor.

  Without giving voice to that thought, he hurried back to Becca’s car and killed the engine and lights. After grabbing a Maglite from his trunk, he moved forward. Before he could object, Becca was beside him.

  Reaching the narrow side road, he shined his light on the pavement and quickly found the black skid marks. Deep tire impressions were visible in the mud where the attacker had more than likely awaited their arrival.

  Colby snapped a photo of the tread marks with his phone. “Let’s hope forensics can ID the type of tire.”

  Becca pulled out her phone and snapped her own photos before she called the Harmony sheriff’s office and relayed the information to Lewis Stone.

  Disconnecting, she glanced at Colby.
“Lewis said he’ll be here in thirty minutes. Let’s put out flares to warn approaching motorists.”

  Colby flashed his Maglite over the fallen tree trunk. Saw marks were visible. This wasn’t a tree that had dropped across the road of its own accord, but a roadblock that had been purposefully set.

  A weight settled on Colby’s shoulders. Becca hadn’t mentioned Jacob’s name, but both of them knew he was the most likely suspect.

  So far he had failed to harm her, but he would try again.

  SEVEN

  “Hello, sir.” Becca greeted Chief Wilson the next day on the sidewalk leading to the Timmonses’ newly built home. A circular drive stretched from the rural road to the two-story brick colonial. Shutters framed the expansive windows that offered views into the main room where a number of guests had already gathered.

  After the late night in Alabama, Becca didn’t feel like being social, but Dawson and Lillie Timmons had been kind enough to include her and the least she could do was attend the barbecue.

  “I appreciate you calling and updating me last night,” the chief said as they climbed the stairs to the front porch. “As I mentioned, I’m sorry about your friend who died.”

  “Thank you, sir. Lewis Stone, the Harmony sheriff, promised to keep us in the loop on both the murder investigation and any information they uncover from the sight of the felled tree.”

  “You mentioned the Amish man who killed your family members had supposedly been buried some years ago.”

  “That’s right. Jacob Yoder.”

  “Did Stone think Yoder could still be alive?”

  “He didn’t offer an opinion one way or the other, but he plans to talk to the former sheriff who identified the body prior to burial.”

  Wilson pursed his lips. “Special Agent Goodman is looking into a contracting situation that might have bearing on the BOQ explosion. I want him to investigate that lead, while you and Colby follow this one. We’ll work both issues until more concrete evidence is revealed.” He hesitated. “You didn’t see anyone who looked like this Amish man, did you, Becca?”

  “No, sir.” She wouldn’t mention hearing his voice at the end of the Freemont half marathon. Wilson wanted proof and not a name called out in the midst of a cheering crowd of running enthusiasts.