Wicked Legacy (Serenity's Plain Secrets Book 10)

by Karen Ann Hopkins

  I hadn’t given Elayne too much information about what had happened in Nevada, and she hadn’t asked for details. She was smart enough to know that some of the events had been left off the official report circulated by the media. Like me, she didn’t care how I got the women out, she was simply glad they were free.

  Clara’s squeal broke through my heavy thoughts. “Oh, look, Lynn—there’s the Coblentz farm! See how they built onto their house. Ruthie must be ecstatic.”

  Lynette swiveled in her seat to spy on her former neighbors. “My, oh, my. That woman gets whatever she wants. The gazebo is new too.”

  “That was there before I left,” Clara corrected Lynette.

  The women’s voices became more and more animated the further into the community we got. True to form, they had something to say about every improvement or decline they saw. Their gossip made me smile. For all of their recent challenges, they were still typical Amish females.

  “Right there, Serenity! Turn into the driveway on the left,” Clara directed. She rolled down the window and stuck her head out. Her words were muffled by the wind and engine, but I heard her say, “It’s so beautiful!”

  It was that. White board fencing followed each side of the winding driveway. Dozens of horses, mostly large drafts, grazed in the green fields. There were even a few colts trotting alongside their mamas. The clusters of giant oak trees were awash in bright yellow leaves, and mallard ducks skimmed the surface of a large, sparkling pond.

  Clara popped her head back into the vehicle. “Da breeds the best Belgians and Percherons in the community. Everyone comes to us when they need a new team.”

  It hadn’t escaped my notice that she’d said ‘us.’ Seeing how excited the girl was, my heart raced for her. None of us knew what to expect from her family. She’d left four months earlier. Would her parents want her back?

  “Park by the stable, Serenity. Ma and Da will be in there, I know it!”

  I did as she asked. Clara was out the door before I’d shut off the engine. I held my breath as I watched her dart through the open doorway. Her calls to her parents were loud enough to hear and if I craned my neck, I could see the aisle way inside.

  Lynette and I didn’t say anything. I saw the rigid set of her jaw and knew she was an anxious as I was about the reunion.

  A stout woman stepped out of the shadows and her hand went to her mouth. The muffled wailing sound was unmistakable. I let out a breath when the woman’s arms went around Clara in a bear hug. Next came her father. He waited his turn, and then hugged her as tightly as her mother had. I couldn’t understand their Pennsylvania Dutch language, but I didn’t need to. The tone was joyous.

  Lynette and I continued to wait, neither talking. For me, it justified my trip to Nevada. These parents didn’t want to send their daughter away. They’d felt compelled to do so from a long-standing tradition that they didn’t think they could break. Their choice to let their daughter go was exasperating to outsiders. For me, knowing the Amish as well as I did, I understood how it happened. Following the rules were everything to these people—even when the traditions were completely ridiculous.

  Clara ran back to the car and I lowered the driver’s side window further.

  “I’m going to stay for dinner. My little sisters will be home from school any minute.” Clara’s face beamed.

  “When do you want me to pick up you up?” I asked.

  She looked back at the barn where her parents were standing, waiting for her. Her mother was crying. “I might spend the night. I haven’t asked yet, but I think it will be alright.”

  “Call me and let me know later.” I started the engine and Clara reached in and placed her hand on my shoulder.

  “Thank you, Serenity. For everything,” she said through teary eyes.

  I felt mine begin to water and I mumbled, “I’m glad you’re home.”

  Lynette finally spoke when we were back on the road. There was a horse and buggy in front of the car, and I slowed down.

  “It’s strange to see one of those again,” Lynette said quietly.

  I assumed she meant the buggy. “Do you like horses? I mean, the horses seem like the best part about being Amish.”

  “I love them. Before I left, I had a palomino mare named Cherokee. I rode her every day. It was difficult to leave my family and friends, but the only one I cried for was my horse.” She fell silent, her head turned away from me. After a moment, she mused, “They probably sold her.”

  She pointed to turn at the intersection and I did, glad to be free of the slow moving buggy. Several little girls whisked by on their bikes in brightly colored dresses. I wondered if they might be Clara’s sisters.

  “How are you feeling about all this, Lynette? You’ve been awfully quiet.” I sensed her dread.

  She glanced over. “I’m not sure. It’s kind of surreal. In a way, I know I’m home, but after everything I’ve experienced in the last four years, I’m not sure if I’ll be received with open arms the way Clara was. She wasn’t gone that long. It’s different for her.”

  “I’m sure your parents missed you just as much as Clara’s missed her.”

  “My Da died of cancer when I was fifteen. It’s only Mama and my two younger brothers and a sister. When I left, I was worried for Mama. It was a lot for her to do by herself.” She took a deep breath. “It didn’t seem fair to me at the time that I was the one picked. Mama needed me.”

  “How exactly were you picked, Lynette?”

  “All the King families who have daughters close to eighteen come together and draw straws.”

  “You were chosen by fate?” This was news to me.

  “It’s common for my people to draw straws for certain things. It’s a way to keep families from bickering. No one would willingly hand their child over to strange men.”

  I wasn’t so sure of that. “Did your mom know you were going to work in a brothel?” I dared to ask.

  “Honestly, I don’t think so. I was told the selected girls went out west to live on a ranch. In my childish mind, I believed I’d work with horses and tourists.” She snorted, dropping her head back. “Dumb, huh?”

  My heart hurt for Lynette. “No. It would make me feel better if your parents didn’t know,” I didn’t try to hide the disgust from my voice.

  “Is anything going to happen to them—Mama and the other families?”

  “I’ve been talking to Elayne and we’re not sure yet. It would be a can of worms that’s for sure.” I turned my head and caught her eye. “How do you feel about it? Should they be held accountable and punished for what they did to you and the other girls?”

  Not answering my question, she told me to make a turn. The road narrowed to a single lane and I could see in the distance that the end of road led to a white farmhouse, several red-sided barns, and a silo.

  “That’s our farm,” she said.

  I purposely slowed the car. “Lynette, it’s important that you tell me what you think should happen to the families and elders in your community. What they did to you and the others was horrific. If it were up to me, I’d bring charges against every damned one of them. I get it, you’re Amish and live by your own code, but Amish authority doesn’t supersede my laws.”

  “What did Melinda say?”

  “She wanted me to let it go. She had forgiven her family a long time ago, and like most Amish I’ve met, she embraced the way of grace. That doesn’t mean you have to feel the same way. Forgiveness isn’t always practical or appropriate.”

  “It would be difficult for Clara to start fresh in the community if her parents are behind bars.”

  That was true enough. “I assume that means you’d rather I let it go?”

  “As long as it never happens again, I think that’s the best course.” She leaned forward and pointed. “That’s my mare! See the golden one?” Tears filled her eyes and she su
cked in a wet breath. “Mama kept her all this time.”

  I drove right up to the front porch and parked. A short, pudgy woman came through the doorway. Gray hair flared out at her temples, but the rest was bright red, just like Lynette’s. The woman bent her neck to see inside the cab and her hand flew to her chest.

  “Lynette, is that you?”

  “Oh, Mama.” More tears flowed freely down Lynette’s face as she clutched the handle and flung the door open.

  Lynette ran up the steps and barreled into her mother. I leaned back and watched them hug. They cried and talked and cried some more before Lynette waved to me. “Come here, Serenity!” she shouted.

  I joined them on the porch, thankful for my wide aviator sunglasses to hide my wet eyes.

  “Mama, this is Sheriff Serenity Adams. She works over in Blood Rock. She’s the one who saved me and brought me home,” Lynette said through gasping breaths.

  I held out my hand, but Lynette’s mother wasn’t having any of that. She pulled me into a bone-crushing hug and in stilted English, said, “Thank you for bringing my baby back to me. God bless you, Sheriff Adams.”

  I didn’t know what to say. The emotions on that porch were too high. It was easy to watch from the inside of the vehicle, the way I’d done with Clara’s reunion. The gratefulness and tight embrace from Lynette’s mother was too personal—too real.

  “I’m glad I could help,” I muttered, pulling back.

  Thankfully, at that moment, several teenagers pulled up on their bikes. Two boys and one girl—Lynette’s siblings.

  I stepped back while a lot more hugging and crying took place. Seemingly forgotten, I scooted along the railing and took a step down the stairs when Lynette’s mother’s voice snapped me to attention.

  “Where do you think you’re going young lady?” she asked.

  “I want to leave you all alone to become reacquainted.”

  “Absolutely not! Dinner is in the oven. I expect you to join us.” When she saw me take another step backwards, she raised her voice further. “Please give me the opportunity to show my thanks by feeding you.”

  It was hard to turn down home-cooked Amish food and even harder to ignore a mother’s demand and the expectant gazes of the Lynette’s siblings. At the back of my mind, I couldn’t forget what Lynette’s mother had done to her daughter by letting her go, even if the girl was eighteen and already a legal adult. But if Lynette could forgive her, maybe I could find it in my heart to do so as well.

  It was sad that so much pain and suffering had come about because Marie Bruno had fallen for an Amish boy a long time ago.

  23

  With Lynette and Clara spending time with their families, I was free to make one more stop in Mt. Carmel. The past few days since I’d arrived home had been a whirlwind of activity. Settling the women into Elayne’s home had been just the beginning. I’d had a stack of paperwork to sift through and several meetings with Todd, Bobby, and the mayor. But the Mt. Carmel Amish were never far from my mind. Most of the sordid story had been explained sufficiently, although there were still some things pestering me. Since the statute of limitations had run out for most of the young women taken from the community, and all the survivors had no interest in pursuing charges, there wasn’t much hope that any criminal charges would be filed. The women were adults when they’d went to work at the brothel, so there was that fact that also protected the Amish from legal retribution.

  As I drove slowly through Mt. Carmel, I couldn’t rid myself of the bitter taste of how things had turned out. Sure, Lynette and Clara were home, and no more women would be forced into sexual slavery because of a medieval blood pact. That was all good. What gave me a headache was grasping the fact that this had been going on for nearly five decades. Not only had the women’s community let them down, so had law enforcement. When the former sheriff of Blood Rock, Tony Manning, had an opportunity to figure it out twenty years earlier, he’d dropped the ball. He’d known that the Mt. Carmel Amish had something to do with Mark Yoder’s death, but he’d either been too lazy, or didn’t have the courage to fully investigate the young man’s drowning. Five more teenaged girls had been taken after that incident. If Tony had given a damn, they wouldn’t have had to suffer.

  The air was still warm, but fast-moving clouds had blotted out the sun by the time I’d left Lynette’s home. Leaves sprinkled down from the trees lining the roadway and a threesome of boys cantered through a field parallel to my car. I saw the wide smiles on their faces before I passed by. It was getting late. Soon, the sun would set, and I wanted to get home to Daniel. I hadn’t been able to spend a lot of time with him since arriving home. I wouldn’t admit it out loud, but I missed him. It had been a rough month. Having a little down time with my handsome husband is what I needed.

  I got behind another buggy, but I didn’t attempt to pass it. My turn was a short distance away, so I remained patient. I caught a glimpse of bright turquois in the tiny window on the back of the buggy. A round face popped through the opening. It was a little girl. She waved and I returned the favor. Amish kids were cute.

  Seeing the smiling little face made my thoughts stray to the conversation I’d had with Toby in the desert. Could I already be pregnant? I hadn’t had a period in well over a month, but without looking at the calendar and doing some calculating, I wasn’t exactly sure when I was due. That was one of the problems with my job, it took over every aspect of my life and the mundane things disappeared from my consciousness.

  I was glad for the distraction when I reached my destination. I turned in and parked in front of the farmhouse. Fannie King was sitting on her porch, the same as I’d found her the last time. She wore a black knit sweater over a brown dress. Her cap was askew and some of her gray hair stuck out. The elderly woman’s eyes were glassy and staring off down the road when I stepped up to her.

  “Hello, Mrs. King. Do you remember me? I visited you last week.”

  Fannie looked up and puckered her lips. “Sheriff Serenity Adams. Of course, I remember. Half the time my mind is rattled, but I wouldn’t forget you.”

  I was impressed by the strength and conviction of her voice. “May I join you?” When she nodded, I pulled up the nearest wooden chair and sat down.

  “Did you find my granddaughter?” she asked without looking at me.

  Her mind was indeed sharp today. “Yes, I did.” I pulled my cell phone from my pocket. “She sent you a message.”

  I slid my finger across the screen and pulled up the video I’d saved. When I had Fannie’s attention, I held the phone up in front of her. She wrinkled her brow and looked like she was about to get grumpy with me until I pressed play.

  Melinda popped up on the screen. She smiled and her voice sounded cheerful.

  “Mammi King, I’m alive and doing well here in the great state of Nevada.” She took the video on the brothel’s veranda, panning the lens to show her grandma the scenery. “It’s eighty-eight and dry as a bone.” Fannie’s eyes bulged and her mouth dropped open. She muttered something that I didn’t understand and then touched the screen, which stopped the video. Her head swiveled to me, and I quickly started it again. Fannie gripped her skirts, white knuckles showing. With intense focus, she listened and watched her granddaughter speak to her for the first time in two decades.

  Melinda did a good job of articulating her words loudly and clearly so that her grandmother could understand her. She talked about living in the desert and about how she ran a business all by herself. Melinda didn’t elaborate on what the business was, but she did introduce Jared and Ronnie in the video. Both men said hello. Jared for his part was of course, bright-eyed and friendly. Ronnie’s short stint was awkward and when he forced a smile, it was almost scary, but I doubted Fannie noticed.

  The video lasted a few minutes. At the end, Melinda blew Fannie a kiss, telling her grandmother she loved her and would visit her soon. I didn’t believe Me
linda would ever return to Mt. Carmel, but Fannie’s smile revealed missing teeth and deep happiness, so the lie was for the best.

  I returned the phone to my pocket and gazed at Fannie. Before I had the chance to say anything, she spoke. “Thank you for finding Melinda. She’s a good girl and she has an abundance of energy. I’m relieved to see she’s still herself. My prayers have been answered.”

  The sound of clip clops on pavement made me look up. I wasn’t expecting the horse and buggy to turn into Fannie’s driveway, so when it did, I stood up. The windows on the front of buggies were not very large, making it hard to see through. I couldn’t tell who had arrived until he stepped out of the buggy.

  Bishop Ezra King.

  I drew in a deep breath, willing my heart rate to slow down. Fannie noticed my discomfort and patted my hand. “Everything must be made right,” she said before she slowly rose and went into the house without acknowledging the bishop.

  Ezra didn’t show that he noticed or cared that his grandmother had made a quick departure. He tipped his hat and raised his light gray eyes. “Word is spreading like wildfire that you brought back Lynette and Clara, and you broke the blood pact.” His voice was more subdued than the last time we spoke.

  The shards of light on the horizon were pinkish-red. The sunset looked like streaks of blood in the sky. My mood was certainly not chipper, and when I looked up, I didn’t bother to hide my disdain for the leader of the Mt. Carmel Amish.

  “No thanks to you, Bishop.” I glanced over to the door to make sure Fannie had shut it tightly. “Those girls, along with many others, experienced horrible suffering because you and your predecessors didn’t have the courage to go to the authorities about what the Bruno family had done.”

  The bishop walked over to the railing and clutched it with his hands, turning his back to me. “That is true. I don’t deny it. There are things about my people you do not understand, and I don’t expect you to.”