Rising Darkness (15 page)

“But the rules didn't cause that. We just loved God and wanted to be like Him. And He isn't a God of rules.”

I grunted. “The Old Testament is full of rules.”

“As a way to show us we couldn't be righteous by keeping them. Jesus fulfilled the law, bringing us into grace. The law isn't needed anymore because the law of love has been written on our hearts.”

“Not on my father's.”

“I know,” Jonathon said. “Your father used religion to satisfy his desire for control. You think he got away with it, but he didn't, Sophie.”

“Whatever.” The direction of our conversation was making me uncomfortable again. “Why don't you save your sermons for church?” My comment sounded harsher than I meant it, but I really wasn't interested in being preached to.

“Okay,” he said affably. “Read me the rest of the list.”

I picked up my notes. I hadn't meant to snap at him and was relieved he didn't seem offended. “Well, I think we can automatically rule out one of the names. Jonathon Wiese.”

He gave me a lopsided smile. “Gee, thanks.”

“What about Reuben King?”

“Too young. Besides, he's a longtime resident. He moved away for a while. College and a job, but he came back several years ago. He's married now. That might not be in the records because it happened recently.”

“I guess I also missed the entry about his living in Sanctuary before.”

Jonathon shrugged. “Well, the family owns a farm outside of town. That might explain it. Maybe whoever kept the records didn't consider him an actual resident.”

That information concerned me. Maybe the church records weren't as accurate as I'd hoped. I crossed Reuben off. “That leaves these names.” I read the remaining names out loud.

“Well, let's see. Why don't you repeat them one by one?”

“Okay. Let's start with Norman Yoder.”

Jonathon laughed. “Norman is eighty-three and came here about five years ago to live with his niece who was born in Sanctuary. Again, not really the criminal type.”

I crossed his name off. “What about Joshua Franklin?”

Jonathon shook his head. “He moved away to live with his uncle in Cape Girardeau. Besides, he's only in his late twenties. He would have been too young in 2008.”

I sighed and crossed off another name. “You know, there really aren't that many single men who've moved here and stayed.”

“Is that a surprise? Most single men aren't looking for small-town life.”

“Well, you're here.”

“True. But I was raised in a small town. I didn't want something different. I just wanted a place that was . . .”

“Different?” I said with a smile.

He chuckled. “Okay. Point taken. What about single men who came here and got married?”

“I have a small list with those names, alongside the men who came here, got married, and left. To be honest, I just don't think Chase would risk marriage. Too legal. Too easy to be found out. But just in case, I wrote them down. There are only four on that list.”

“You might as well read them.”

I rattled off each one.

“No, forget them. I know two of them, and I know the families of the other two. All of them are young.”

“All right, let's go back to the list of single men still here. The next name is Ben Johnson.”

“Well, Ben is about the right age. In his fifties.” Jonathon was silent for a moment. “When did he come here?”

“According to the records in the church, he moved to town in 2010. About a year and a half after the robbery.”

“He works with Abner Ingalls in the hardware store. Sleeps in a back room Abner set up for him. Keeps to himself. I get the feeling he has something in his past he's trying to deal with.”

“Like murder?”

Jonathon stared at his coffee cup for a few seconds before picking it up. “I hope not. I like the guy.”

“Okay. There are three men who have died. Jacob Vogel, Arthur Deering, and Leo Moreland.”

“Jacob and Arthur were very old. They actually came here to stay with family so they would have someone to take care of them. I didn't know Leo, but I know his sister. He couldn't be Chase.”

I marked off those names, feeling a sense of relief. My story wouldn't be as dramatic if Chase had died. “Martin Hatcher?”

Jonathon considered this. “Keep him on your list. Martin owns a saddle and tack store at the end of Main Street.” He pointed to my list. “When did he come here?”

“2009.”

He nodded. “I always thought he was a little odd. I've stopped by to talk to him several times. Nice enough, but when I invite him to church, he shuts down on me. I asked him once if he had any family. He acted like I'd asked him if he was an ax murderer.”

I put a star next to Martin Hatcher's name. “What about Steven Reinhardt?”

“No.” Jonathon answered so quickly it startled me.

“Wait a minute,” I said. “Tell me more about him.”

“Trust me. He isn't Terrance Chase. First of all, he's too young. Only in his twenties. Steven's had a tough life. He came to Sanctuary to get a fresh start.”

“Okay. No problem.” I scratched the name off my list. “The next name is Peter Bakker.”

Jonathon thought for a moment. “I never met him, but he's about the right age. He moved away not long after his brother came here. According to Evan, their mother was ill
and Peter went home to Ohio to care for her. Evan had been her caretaker for many years. Once Peter took over, Evan decided to stay in Sanctuary. Nice man who has had a very lonely life. He seems happy here, though. Not really the bank robber type.” He grinned. “If he has millions of dollars, I'll eat one of the bowties he wears every day.”

I crossed his name off my list. “Terrance Chase doesn't have a brother.” I looked over what was left of my list. “So I only have two names as possible candidates for Terrance Chase. Ben Johnson and Martin Hatcher. That narrows it down quite a bit. And they're both still here. That's good. I don't suppose either one of these guys has a cleft chin?”

“I have no idea. They both have beards.”

“Oh, great. I don't suppose you can ask them to shave?”

Jonathon grunted. “Oh, sure. That wouldn't look suspicious.” He frowned. “Can someone have a cleft chin fixed?”

“Yes. I did some research about that on the Internet. It's possible Chase had it altered. I mean, it would be a lot harder to identify him if he has a normal chin.”

“So what do we do? With their beards, we can't get a good look at their chins.”

I shrugged. “I'll have to study their faces. You can't change bone structure.”

“Will you let me see that picture again?”

I got out my phone and brought up the mug shot again.

“Not what you'd call a good-looking man.”

“No. Frankly, there's nothing that stands out about him—except for his red hair. I bet he's colored it. Or shaved it off.”

“That's why I wanted to see this again. I hadn't really noticed the first time. Martin has red hair.”

“Really?”

“Does that move him to the front of your list?” Jonathon asked.

“Maybe. Sanctuary isn't St. Louis. I'd be surprised if anyone here knows who Terrance Chase is. He might be more inclined to relax and keep his normal hair color.”

“By the way, I should mention that there are a couple of other single men who've come to town recently. They're not likely candidates, but I didn't see them on your lists.”

I frowned at him. “I thought all the names of new residents were added to the population records.”

“Most of them, but for example, there's a young man living at the church right now. His car broke down out on the main road a couple of days ago, and he couldn't afford to get it fixed. He had nowhere else to go, so I offered him some work at the church—along with a place to sleep. He wouldn't be in the records. Not only because he just got here, but also because he's not officially a resident. Then there's another guy who came to town last year to visit his sister. He's still here, but he's not a resident. Even though it's been a while, he's not planning to stay.”

I nodded. “Okay, I get it. Neither one of them could be Chase.”

“I agree. Just wanted to make sure you knew about them.” He paused for a moment before saying, “Has it occurred to you that if Chase does know that you're looking for him, he may have taken off already?”

“Yes. But that would actually point us right to him, wouldn't it? So if one of our possible suspects suddenly disappears, there's a pretty good chance he's our man.”

“You're right.” Jonathon took his keys from his pocket. “Now, I've got to get to the church and help set things up. You're coming, aren't you?”

I nodded. “Tonight I'd like you to point out the two men on our list if they show up at the supper. Even if he's using a disguise, I'm still hoping I'll recognize him.”

“Okay, but we'll have to be careful. I don't want these guys to think we're talking about them.”

“But we will be.”

“I realize that. You know what I mean.”

I nodded. “I'll use caution.”

“You realize that whoever attacked you might be at the supper.”

That idea made my stomach clench, but I kept my face expressionless so Jonathon couldn't see how much it worried me. “I doubt they'll bother me with so many people around. But we should probably keep our eyes peeled. Watch for someone acting suspicious. Especially if we notice strange behavior by Ben Johnson or Martin Hatcher.”

Jonathon fiddled with his keys “Look, whoever confronted you in the basement had to have been watching you. They knew where you'd be and when. If it's Chase, he'll want to protect himself. If it's someone looking for Chase, or for the money, they'll want to find him or it before you do.” He stared into my eyes. “I know you don't want to contact the authorities yet, but I have a friend, Paul Gleason. He's a deputy sheriff here in Madison County. He'll be at the supper. I'd like you to talk to him. At least let him know what's going on.”

“No.” The word came out loud enough that a couple at
the table near us turned to look at me. “No,” I said again, more quietly. “Like I said, I want to at least have a name to give him. Right now I have nothing. Talking to him at this point would be a waste of his time.”

“Are you saying that because you really don't think you have enough information to make it worth his while or because you're protecting your story?”

“Both.” I reached over and grabbed his hand. “Please, Jonathon. This is important. It—it's everything to me. This will pull me out of the muck my life has been and into something new. Something better. I want to be able to hold my head up and be someone. Someone worthwhile.” I also wanted to find Chase so I could help Tom, but I decided not to tell Jonathon about Tom being attacked in prison. After what had happened in the basement, I was afraid he'd contact his deputy sheriff friend without my permission, and I couldn't risk that.

Jonathon sighed deeply. “Oh, Sophie. I'm afraid you're confusing
what
you do with
who
you are, but I don't have time to tackle that topic right now.” He gently pulled his hand from mine and grabbed his keys again. “Okay. For now I won't tell anyone. But if one more thing happens. One more threat. One more dangerous situation, I'm talking to Paul myself. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I get it.”

He glanced at his watch a second time. “I've got to go. I'm running late. If you want to come with me, you could help set up for the supper.”

“I'd like that, but let me finish my pie first. I'll walk to the church when I'm finished.”

“Okay.” He stood up, took out his wallet, and tossed some money on the table. “I'll see you there. And Sophie, tonight you are to stay within my sight at all times, do you understand me? I mean it.”

“I will. And Jonathon,” I said softly, “you've started calling me Sophie. Please don't make that mistake at the church, okay?”

“I'll try my best. If I mess up, you have my permission to kick me.”

I smiled. “That will be my pleasure.”

He didn't laugh, just shot me one more concerned look and walked out of the restaurant. I was more determined than ever to find Terrance Chase. No matter who threatened me. I'd made a promise to Jonathon that I had no intention of keeping. I would do everything possible to keep Paul Gleason from interfering in my investigation. I couldn't allow anyone to stop me from achieving my goal.

Not even the man who held my heart in his hands.

After finishing my pie, I left the restaurant. The sidewalks were full of people walking toward the church, some of them carrying food. I walked the two blocks to the large building on the edge of town and saw cars and buggies parked next to one another. I was still rather impressed that the two churches did things together. It was a testimony to the kind of spirit I always thought churches should have.

I was grateful Jonathon was trying to help me. I didn't feel so alone, but I regretted telling him about my father. It was the elephant in the room. A wall that I'd erected because I'd accidentally shared something I had no intention of ever telling anyone. And of all the people to reveal my shame to, it had to be the one man I really cared about. Jonathon would never see me the way a man should see a woman he could love. Jonathon was a man of God, and I was a woman of . . . nothing.

Tears pricked my eyelids, and I blinked them away. I had to concentrate on my goal. The possibility that Terrance Chase
could be in the crowd tonight had me feeling exhilarated. This dinner might finally bring me everything I'd wanted for years. My father's face flashed in front of me.
“You ain't nothin' but
trash, girl. And you ain't never goin' to be
nobody.”
But I
would
be somebody. I would be the reporter who found Terrance Chase. Something even the FBI couldn't do. Something no other reporter in the world had been able to accomplish.

I followed the people going through the front door of Agape Fellowship. The interior was extremely attractive. Walls painted light beige with dusky blue carpet on the floors. Pictures used to decorate the foyer showed Jesus, but they were like nothing I'd seen before. In one painting, a small child sat on Jesus' knee. In another, Jesus was laughing. Conservative Mennonites didn't have pictures of Jesus, but if they had, I was pretty sure Jesus wouldn't be laughing. It wasn't until I'd left Kingdom that I began to see images of Christ. They all seemed pretty much the same. The Last Supper, a side view of Jesus looking up, paintings of the crucifixion by some of the great masters. For some reason, I found them all flat and uninspiring. But these more contemporary paintings were different. There was something almost alive in them. I was just turning away to follow the crowd heading through a door I assumed led to the room where the supper was being held, when I noticed one other painting. A young girl looked up to Jesus, a tear running down the side of her face. He cradled her face in His hands and stared into her eyes, as if trying to comfort her. I was shocked by the image. The little girl was the spitting image of me as a child. I couldn't tear myself away, and I stood
there, unable to move, until I realized someone was touching my elbow.

“Emily? Are you okay?”

I turned to see Jonathon gazing at me with concern. “Uh, yeah. Sorry.” I took a quick breath and tried to regain my composure. “I—I was trying to figure out where to go.”

He pointed to the large open door I'd seen people entering. “It's here. Are you sure you want to help set up?”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

Jonathon kept his hand on my arm and accompanied me through the door and into the community room. Long tables that were obviously set up for food were lined up in the middle of the room. The rest of the large area was full of round tables with chairs. There wasn't much space between the tables; it was clear they were expecting a large crowd. Even though it was at least two hours before the supper began, there were quite a few people already seated.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

Jonathon pointed toward a man walking out of the kitchen at the back of the room and waved him over. The man put down a stack of paper plates and quickly made his way over to us.

“Emily McClure, this is Nate Reynolds. If you want to help, Nate's your man. He's overseeing the food tables and supplies.”

Nate was a handsome man with sun-bleached blond hair and green eyes. His easy smile spread from his mouth to his emerald eyes. “Happy to have the help, Emily. I promise not to work you too hard.”

I smiled back at him. “I'll try to keep up.”

“I'll leave you in Nate's capable hands.” Jonathon turned when someone called his name and started to leave, but I grabbed his arm.

“Where do I sit?” I asked. “I—I mean, I don't really know anyone except you and Esther.”

“But now you know me,” Nate said. “You can sit with me, okay?”

Jonathon nodded. “Just follow Nate, Emily. He'll keep you company.” He gazed into my eyes for a moment. “I won't be far away. If you need me, come and find me, okay?” When he walked away, there was a part of me that felt a little hurt and abandoned. After all, he'd promised to keep an eye on me during the dinner. But I was being silly. Jonathon was a busy pastor, and he had to visit with other people, too.

I swung my attention back to Nate. “Okay, so what do I do?”

“All I can do is share what Randi told me.” He took a deep breath and pointed at the long tables in the middle of the room. “People are going to be bringing food. According to Randi, we need to make sure it's in the proper place. You know, main dishes in one area, side dishes in another, bread and desserts somewhere else.”

“Okay, I get it. Now, tell me how you got stuck with this job.”

Nate rolled his eyes. “Randi's busy cooking. I was lucky enough to be standing nearby when she was talking to Jonathon. Big mistake. My close proximity earned me this incredible honor.”

I smiled at him. “We'll get through it. I've been around a few church suppers. Together we can carry this off.”

“Good. Why don't you start working on arranging food
in the right places while I get the rest of the paper products ready? They'll be at the front of the two tables.” He hesitated a moment before saying, “And why don't we put all the drinks on that other table against the wall? That way we won't have people spilling their drinks around the food, and it won't hold up the food lines.”

“You sound like a pro.”

“I must be a really good actor, then. Either that or I'm afraid of Randi. She really does scare me a little.”

I chuckled and followed him as he started walking toward the food tables. “You can see we're trying to divide the different kinds of food, but as people come in, they set their dishes down anywhere. If you could redirect them a little, that would be helpful.”

“As long as you don't ask me to strong arm any little old Mennonite ladies.”

He laughed. “I think it's safe to say your pastor wouldn't look on that favorably.”

“Jonathon's not my pastor.” I said the words without thinking.

Nate looked at me curiously. “Are you new in town? I mean, you said you didn't know many people.”

“I'm not a resident. I just came here to do some research on family members who used to live here.”

“Well, we definitely need to stick together, then. I'm new, too. I've only been here a couple of days. Ended up in town after my car broke down. Jonathon offered me a job and a place to stay until I decide what to do next.”

“Oh.” I suddenly remembered Jonathon telling me about a man he was helping at the church.

Nate looked around and noticed more people heading toward the tables. “I'd be happy to tell you about it sometime, but I think we're about to be inundated with tuna casseroles and several different varieties of chicken.”

I glanced at my watch. “Isn't it a little early for some of this food? I mean, shouldn't meat dishes be kept warm?”

Nate snapped his fingers. “Oh, man. I forgot about the hotplates. Please don't tell Randi. She'd have my head. Follow me.”

I trailed behind him as he hurried into the kitchen, where several women bustled around. I could tell some of the food was being kept hot inside the two ovens. Nate grabbed some large metal heating trays and pointed toward a couple smaller ones.

“Can you carry those into the other room?”

“Sure. Is there somewhere I can put my purse?”

A woman standing close to us opened a door under a counter. “You can put your purse here, dear.” Several other purses were already stored there. I thanked her and slid mine in with the rest. Then I grabbed the hotplates.

“Randi told me to put these out first,” Nate said, “but I spaced it. Thank goodness you thought of them. This could have been a huge disaster. Food poisoning is never pretty. Even with a prayer covering on top of it.”

I laughed as we hurried out to the tables. Working together, within a few minutes we'd hooked up the hotplates and transferred the main dishes that should be kept warm.

“I wouldn't worry about anything else coming in,” he said when we finished. “People will start eating early, so any food that comes after this should be fine.” He winked at me.
“Besides, a little poisoning is usually expected at a church dinner, right?”

I laughed again as he left to get more paper plates and plastic utensils. For the most part, all I did over the next hour was tell people where to put their food. I relocated a few dishes dropped off when I wasn't looking, but it was far from a labor-intensive job, and I was happy with the way things were working out.

Although I watched the crowd, most of the people who came early and brought food were women. As the men began to arrive, I scrutinized them the best I could without making anyone suspicious. I quickly found out that watching for men with beards was a huge waste of time. Most of the men sported facial hair, and I began to wonder if it was a prerequisite for males living in Sanctuary.

I spotted Jonathon talking to an elderly couple on the other side of the room, but even though he gave them his attention, every once in a while, his eyes wandered over to me. As he'd promised, he was watching me, making certain I was safe.

I was putting a tray of deviled eggs on the table when I heard someone say hello. I looked up and saw Evan Bakker from the post office. I smiled and returned his greeting.

“So nice of you to help out,” he told me. “I hope you're enjoying your visit to Sanctuary.”

“Thank you. I certainly am.”

He held a large metal pan in his hands. “I'm sorry to run late, but this turkey took longer than I thought it would.”

“Let's take that to the table with the main dishes.” He followed me to the front of the two tables. I moved a few things over. “How about here?”

“That's fine.”

He put down the pan and peeled back the tinfoil that covered it. The turkey looked awesome and smelled out of this world.

“Wow. This will certainly be popular.”

His blue eyes twinkled behind his glasses. “I'm not a cook, but I can smoke a turkey. Hopefully, no one ever gets tired of me bringing the same thing to these church suppers.”

“I doubt that's possible.”

“Well, nice to see you again. Guess I'd better find a place to sit.”

“Nice to see you, too.”

I spotted Pastor Troyer and Dorcas talking to Jonathon. Dorcas saw me and waved. I smiled and waved back. The mixing of people in regular clothes with those who were obviously Conservative Mennonites touched me for some reason. Everyone seemed relaxed and friendly.

“Emily?”

I jumped when Nate said my name. I'd been so focused on the crowd I hadn't noticed him come up next to me.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “I didn't mean to frighten you.”

I waved my hand at him. “Not your fault. I wasn't paying attention.”

“Everything's ready. I thought I'd show you to my table.”

“Okay.” Since almost every table looked full, I'd hoped he'd saved something. Sure enough, his table had a
Reserved
sign on it.

“This table is near the food so volunteers can help serve if necessary. Some of the residents are elderly or disabled. Jonathon said we should make them a plate and take it to them.”

“I can do that.” In the back of my mind, I was thinking this would provide me a great way to get a closer look at those attending the supper.

“Why don't you sit until we're ready to serve? How about a cup of coffee or some tea?”

“I can get it myself,” I replied.

“You'd better take me up on the offer now. You'll need your energy.”

I pulled out a chair. “Okay. I'm sitting. And coffee would be great. Black, please.”

I watched as he walked over to the area where the drinks had been set up. Tall, good-looking, with an easy gait and manner—if I'd met him in St. Louis, he would have been someone I'd want to get to know. But realizing I wouldn't be in Sanctuary much longer, I pushed that thought out of my mind. I wasn't looking for a boyfriend. In fact, I wasn't sure I would ever allow myself to get romantically involved. All I really cared about was my career. And Jonathon. A man I could never have.