A Churn for the Worse (23 page)

She stared at her reflection in the handheld mirror, the hushed gasp from her own mouth drowned out by the louder one from Jakob's.

“It's me, but . . . it's not,” she whispered. “I . . . I really look Amish.”

Turning slightly to the left and then the right, she took in the hint of auburn hair peeking around the edges of her kapp, its severe middle part making her forehead appear flatter somehow. Her blue-green eyes peered back between lashes that were bare, and her skin, which saw little sun throughout the workday, wasn't far removed from the term
milky white
 . . .

“Let's hope our guy thinks the same thing.” Jakob pitched forward on the kitchen bench, dropping his forearms onto his thighs. “I'm really not liking this whole setup, Claire.”

Slowly, she lowered the mirror to the kitchen table and swiveled herself around to face Jakob. “I can do this, Jakob. I won't let you down.”

His head popped up, his eyes wide. “No one said anything about you letting me down. I'm worried about your
safety
, Claire!”

“You're going to be on the other side of the trees, aren't you?

He nodded.

“Then there's nothing to worry about. If something goes wrong, you're here in what? Less than a minute? I'll be fine.”

He closed his eyes in time with an inhale and then opened them again with such reluctance, it tore at her heart. “I love you, Claire. I don't want anything to happen to you.”

She blinked against the instant burn in her eyes and the tears she knew were mere seconds away. “Y-you . . . love me?” she whispered.

Reaching across the corner of Eli and Esther's kitchen table, he gathered her hands in his and held them tightly. “It's not necessarily the way I wanted to say it the first time, but I also didn't think I'd be sitting here, letting you do . . .
this
.”

For a long moment, she said nothing. She simply gave herself time to breathe, to work past the lump of emotion now lodged in her throat, and to savor everything about their surroundings and the man looking at her with tangible affection. Finally, when she was sure she could speak without sobbing, she met his amber-flecked eyes with a
smile that started from deep inside her being. “I love you, too, Jakob. You brighten my life in ways I never thought possible, and for that and so many other things, I am truly grateful.”

He leaned forward, brushed a kiss against her left temple, and then squeezed her hands once, twice. “I probably shouldn't say this, but you asked me once if I regretted leaving the Amish, remember?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember my answer?”

She looked down at her hands inside his and swallowed. “You said no.”

“I did. And I meant it. But if I'd seen”—he tugged his right hand free and used it to gesture at Claire—“
this
you back then, I wouldn't have left. Not for any badge in the world.”

“Ha, ha,” she joked as she lifted the mirror from the table and peered at herself again. “I look—”

“
Beautiful.
Just like you always do, Claire. But now it's time to hand that over to me. Amish women don't peer at themselves in mirrors.” He took the pink-trimmed mirror from her hand and carried it over to Esther's utensil drawer. Pulling the drawer open, he tucked the mirror inside and then turned back to Claire, pointing at her purse as he did. “If I could hear that vibration just now, so could our guy. Find a place to put your purse.”

“Can I just check that message first? I'll do it really quick.”

“Yeah, okay. It'll give me a chance to make sure my guys are in position.”

She reached down to the floor, pulled out her phone from inside her purse, and opened the message from Diane.

My mistake. That was actually Hayley's magazine. I'll have to get mine from you when you get home tonight. Unless you're still reading?

She started to type her reply, but stopped when Jakob returned from the front room. “If we don't do this now, I'm calling it off.”

Dropping the phone back into her purse, she, too, stood. “I'm going to be okay. I promise. I'm smart.”

“I know that. Now let's just make sure you've got everything down, okay?” He guided her away from the table and then pointed at her ear. “In about thirty seconds, one of my officers is going to say something in your earpiece. Nod the second you hear his voice so we know if the kapp impedes your hearing in any way.”

She tried her best to lighten Jakob's mood with a smile, but it was no use. He was worried. Plain and simple. “I'm going to be— I hear that!”

“What did he say?” Jakob asked.

“He said he likes pickles.”

“Very good.” Jakob pointed at her pale blue dress and the tiny mic hidden beneath the fabric. “Say something back.”

She lowered her chin to answer but lifted it again at the sound of Jakob's snap. “What?”

“Keep your chin up. Talk normally. You don't want to give this guy any reason to think something is up.”

Nodding, she kept her eyes trained on Jakob and said, “I prefer chocolate.”

Jakob shifted his mouth to the right and spoke into his shoulder mic. “Did you get that?”

“Got it, Detective.”

He turned his attention back on Claire and sighed. “Okay. Looks like we're ready.”

“Can't you hear me in your earpiece?” she asked, pointing at the black object tucked around his ear.

“I can. But since I'm standing here with you, I had to make sure you're truly transmitting.”

“Oh. Okay. That makes sense.”

Jakob looked around the room and noted the open windows, the makeshift cooking project Claire had planned, and the position of the sun as it peeked its way around the partially raised dark green shade. “Just keep yourself busy. Read. Bake. Whatever. Just remember you're Amish. Play the part.”

“I'm Amish,” she repeated as she stepped forward and kissed Jakob. “And I'm in love. With a really cute guy.”

When the kiss ended, he stepped back, cleared his throat, and pointed at Claire. “If you get scared or you change your mind, let me know.”

“I will. But I won't.” She waved him toward the back door and then accompanied him over to it. “I'll be fine. I promise.”

“I'm holding you to that.”

And then he was gone, his broad back and long legs making short work of the side yard before disappearing behind the line of trees that separated Esther and Eli's farm from the English housing development on the other side.

When she was sure she couldn't see him any longer, Claire closed the door and turned back toward the kitchen, her pace quickening at the telltale jingle of an incoming call.

“Claire, silence your phone.”

She started to dip her chin to her chest again but held it steady. “I'm sorry, Jakob. Let me just answer this one time and then I'll shut it off and hide it inside the drawer with the mirror.”

Realizing she'd never moved her purse, either, Claire grabbed it off the ground, fished inside for her phone, and stared down at the unfamiliar number on the screen. “I don't know who this is.”

“Then silence the call or get them off the line.”

“I'll get them off.” She raised the phone to her left ear and took a quick breath. “Hello?”

“Is this Claire?”

At a loss for a name to go with the male voice in her ear, she nodded. “It is. Who is this?”

“Claire, it's Bill. Bill Brockman. I stayed at your aunt's place this past week and—”

“Of course. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you could double-check the name of Hayley and Jeremy's blog and get back to me as soon as possible. I'd really like to include it in my travel flyers on Heavenly.”

“Did you lose the paper I wrote it down on?” she asked.

“Nope. Have that in my hand right now. You wrote your number on the back.”

“The address didn't work?”

“It sure didn't.”

“Did you do a search on the blog's name?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Claire . . . I really need you to wrap this up,” Jakob said in her right ear.

“One minute. Please.”

“Oh, that'll be great, Claire. I really appreciate you checking on that for me.”

Realizing Bill thought she was requesting a moment from him rather than Jakob, she tightened her grip on the phone. “Actually, I'm a little tied up right now, but I'll be sure to ask Hayley about that tonight at dinner.”

“You won't be making dinner tonight,” Jakob reminded.

She rushed to make the adjustment for the man in her left ear. “Or tomorrow over breakfast. Either way, I'll get that information to you as soon as possible. Though I'm really surprised a basic search of the blog's name turned up nothing.”

“The blog's name . . . Hayley's name . . . Jeremy's name. I checked them all. And I got nothing.”

Hmmm. Weird.

“Maybe I misunderstood and they're just getting it up off the ground,” she posed.

“Maybe. Anyway, thanks for your help.”

“My pleasure, Bill.”

She started to pull the phone away from her ear but stopped as she heard the man's voice once again. “Say hello to your aunt for me, will you?”

*   *   *

She'd just popped the bread out of the oven and set it on the cooling rack next to the chocolate chip cookies she'd made when she heard the knock.

“Someone is here,” she whispered.

A beat of silence, followed by chatter in her ear, finally morphed into Jakob's singular voice. “Steve says he didn't notice anyone, but he apparently got out of his car to check out a stray cat. Proceed with caution. Keep me in the loop the way we practiced.”

“I will.” Feeling her hands begin to shake, she steadied them at her sides and sent up a silent prayer of thanks that Diane had no idea what she was doing at that moment. When she was sure she was ready, she headed down the hallway and toward the familiar face peeking through the glass door. “False alarm. I know this guy. He's a guest at the inn.”

“Hold your cover. If he doesn't know it's you, let it go. It'll be good practice.”

“Roger that,” she joked. “Get it? Roger that?”

“Focus, Claire. Please.”

She whispered her pledge to do as Jakob asked and then opened the door, the familiar face peering back at her with nary a clue to her true identity. “Hello.”

“Yes, do you happen to sell vegetables?”

“No.” Then realizing she sounded too curt, she added, “I do not.”

“Can you direct me to one of your Amish neighbors who do?”

She started to say she wasn't sure, but stopped herself as a name popped into her thoughts. “The Lehmans do.”

“Where can I find their place?”

“Take a right at the end of our driveway and it's no more than six farms down on the—”

Jeremy stepped forward while simultaneously looking over his shoulder toward the driveway. “Would you mind writing it down for me? I'm not good about remembering details.”

A strange chill slithered down her spine as Martha's voice echoed in her head.

“I pointed the way to the Lehmans' farm stand.”

“It's really not difficult—a straight shot, actually.” She silently cursed the wooden quality to her voice and willed herself to relax. This was Jeremy. The fact that he was asking for a vegetable stand was a coincidence . . .

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” Jeremy started to turn, but stopped himself and gestured into the house, his gaze darting around the front room. “I hate to ask this, but would it be possible to get a glass of water? I'm not feeling too good right now. I think it's the heat. It's bordering on brutal, you know?”

No it wasn't. In fact it's kind of nice—

She took in the distracted face of the man who'd sat at her aunt's table for dinner over the past eleven days or so—his clean-shaven skin, his plain brown eyes and hair, his—

“Let him inside, Claire.”

She opened her mouth to argue, to point out Jeremy's regular-joe looks and the way his requests were eerily similar to the victims' accounts, but closed it as she realized Jakob was hearing everything Claire was hearing.

Jakob wasn't telling her to let him inside to be nice. He was telling her to let him in so they could trap the twenty-something with his hand inside Eli's money jar.

Swallowing back the bile that rose up the back of her
throat, she stepped to the left and waved him inside, hoping and praying as she did that he didn't notice the way her hand trembled with rage. So far, he hadn't given her more than a passing glance. If that changed, she could be in trouble.

Two steps into the front room, he stopped, and cocked his ear toward the still-open front door. Confused, she glanced outside and then froze as she heard a rapid sound coming from the direction of the barn.