Get to the van!
“Rebecca!” She glanced over her shoulder, a wave of relief slamming into her. The professor.
She spun back around and the mysterious person had slipped down a dark alley between two buildings.
Professor Burke caught up to her. “Did you know that person?”
She shook her head, unable to find the words. She held the umbrella down by her side as the rain hit her fiery cheeks.
“Are you okay?” He placed his hand at the small of her back and gently guided her toward his building. Once inside the doorway, he closed her umbrella, then helped her out of her coat. He stepped outside and shook the glass off it over a trash can.
When he stepped back inside, Rebecca finally found her voice. “I think he intended to strike me. He raised his hand. If you hadn’t called my name...”
Compassion shone in his warm brown eyes. Rebecca lowered her gaze. The professor touched her shoulder. “Wait here.”
Rebecca put her coat back on, then stood inside the entryway for what seemed an eternity while the professor ran back outside. When he returned he shook his head as concern creased the corners of his eyes. “Someone smashed the light.”
“Why?”
The professor rubbed the back of his neck. “You’ve been harassed before. Because of Willard.”
Cold fear rained down on Rebecca. “W-w-we’ve had the incidents at the farm. The graffiti on the barn. The eggs smashed on the window. Nothing physical. The community was lashing out after what my...what Willard Fisher did.”
The professor scratched his head. “Did anyone know you were coming here to see me?”
Rebecca struggled to keep the threatening tears at bay. “I was talking about it at the diner. I suppose anyone could have overheard me.” A chill skittered down her spine. “I thought time would make things better. Not worse.” She hugged her coat around her midsection. “Do you think that’s what all this is about? Willard?”
“I wish I knew.” The compassion in the professor’s voice warmed her heart. He held out his arm, drawing her farther into the building. “Let’s call the sheriff.” The professor pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.
Her mouth went dry and she shook her head briskly. “No. I’m not hurt. I don’t want to complicate things. I want to go home.”
The professor hesitated a moment, then much to her relief put the phone away. He seemed to regard her a moment. “I came looking for you to tell you my assistant believes Samuel’s a good kid.”
She studied his face. “What does that mean?”
“My assistant is former Amish. He hangs out with the young men. More than I do, even. He thinks your son is a good kid and likely to be baptized.”
Her eyes flared wide and hope sparked in her heart. Had she heard him correctly?
“Some of the men in his gang are a little wild. I’ve seen it firsthand, but that’s not unusual,” Professor Burke added.
“Maybe I can get him to switch gangs.” Samuel had picked his current buddy bunch when he’d turned sixteen. His group of friends was mostly composed of youth his age. But maybe...
“Maybe.” The doubt in the professor’s eyes unnerved her.
“Uri and Jonas, the brothers helping out on my farm, are in his gang. Maybe I should question them.” She hadn’t done this for fear of embarrassing Samuel in front of his friends and pushing him further away. “Samuel is not himself. I don’t care what your assistant says.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Let me drive you home,” the professor offered.
“But my driver...” She didn’t feel much like arguing; her nerves were too frazzled.
“Do you have his cell phone number? I’ll call him.”
She handed him her hired driver’s business card. She’d call him from the diner whenever she needed a ride. The professor paused a moment when she handed him the card.
Rebecca wanted to cling desperately to the hope the professor had offered her. Samuel is likely to be baptized. But deep in her heart she knew something was wrong. Very, very wrong. She had once heard her friend Hannah describe it as a mother’s intuition.
Rebecca feared Samuel was being consumed by the dark shadow his father had cast upon his family.
Rebecca shuddered. She feared that she, too, would forever stand in the dark.
The wheels of Jake’s truck made a rhythmic thrum-thrum-thrum noise on the road. He usually cranked tunes whenever he was in the car, a surefire method to drown out his thoughts. However, he doubted Rebecca would appreciate his penchant for classic rock. And singing along.
Rebecca shifted in her seat, partially facing him. “I appreciate your kindness in driving me home.” She tapped her fingers on the seat next to her, as if working up the nerve to say something. “I’d appreciate if you left any mention of our conversation out of any publications.”
A sharp dagger twisted in his gut. Jake had prided himself on respecting the Amish and portraying them in the best possible light. But as a professor, he always built off the facts. He never twisted his findings to suit his hypothesis.
“The newspaper quoted you in the paper after Willard’s arrest,” she said accusingly when he didn’t answer. “You shouldn’t have mentioned me or my children.”
“I only mentioned your family in brief. I focused on Willard. You have to appreciate how curious outsiders would be.”
“All too well. Unfortunately, curiosity didn’t stop with the outsiders,” Rebecca muttered.
A muscle ticked in Jake’s jaw. “Please forgive me for being blunt, but that was a fascinating case. It rarely happens that an Amish person commits murder.” He had respected her privacy. He had seen the sadness in her eyes and he would have felt like a vulture—like nothing more than a bloodthirsty journalist hot on the trail of a story—if he had approached her for an interview. Instead, he was careful to feed the news media facts regarding the Amish. It was only logical considering his position at the university and his proximity to Apple Creek.
“While you hide behind your fancy job at the university, I’m stuck living the life of a murderer’s widow. How do you think people look at me in town? It’s not like I can avoid their curious stares. I had to get a job at the diner to make ends meet.”
“The Amish community is known for their forgiveness.” Here he was spouting out his Amish research to her, an Amish woman. He did realize the ridiculousness of it, but he was struggling for something to say.
“Many have been kind, but I see the looks of pity in their eyes. It’s painful. A few have acted out...like perhaps tonight.”
“The sheriff wasn’t able to get any leads on the previous incidents?”
“No,” Rebecca whispered, “but once we stopped calling the sheriff, the number of incidents died down. I thought we were in the clear.”
“Do you suspect your Amish neighbors?”
She shrugged. “It’s hard to imagine...any of this, really.”
“Now you fear if Samuel leaves the Amish community, the judgment from your neighbors will be unbearable.”
“The look when I gaze into a mirror will be unbearable. I want my old life back. Before Willard lost his way.”
Jake adjusted