Alison Stone - Plain Pursuit

Heat crept up her cheeks when she realized he was waiting for some kind of response. “You called me about the crash,” she said.

The call was a blur, yet she had recognized the soothing timbre of his voice. She had barely gotten the name of the town before she hit End and sat dumbfounded in the guidance office where she worked sixty miles away in Buffalo. She had left without explaining her emergency to anyone in the office.

Anna’s chest tightened. “How did you know to call me?”

The deep rumble of the flatbed truck’s diesel engine fired to life, drawing the man’s attention. The corners of his mouth tugged down. “Your brother asked me to call you.”

Anna wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly over the noise of the truck as it eased onto the narrow country road. She tracked the twisted metal of her brother’s plane on top of the flatbed truck until it reached the crest of the hill. Then she turned to face him. Goose bumps swept over her as the significance of his words took shape.

“When...?” She hesitated, her pulse whooshing in her ears. Had she misunderstood? Was her brother in a hospital somewhere? A flicker of hope sparked deep within her. “When did Daniel ask you to call me? My brother’s...dead?” Rubbing her temples, her scrutiny fell to his suit, his authoritative stance. The world seemed to sway with the cornstalks. “You told me he had been killed.”

Concern flashing in his eyes, the man caught her arm. “Yes, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mislead you. Your brother died in the crash.” He guided her to the driver’s side of her vehicle and opened the door. “Here. Sit down.”

Anna sat sideways on the seat, her feet resting on the door frame. “When did you talk to my brother?” She stared at the agent’s polished shoes, trying to puzzle it all out. Finally, she met his eyes. “Was he in trouble?”

“Your brother and I talked last week.” Special Agent Eli Miller rested his elbow on the open door. “Daniel told me to call you if anything should happen to him.” He seemed to be gauging her expression for a reaction.

Anna scrunched up her face. “If anything happened?” She pointed to the field. “Like if he was killed in a plane crash?”

“I don’t think he could have predicted that, but yes, he asked me to call you.” He reached into his suit coat pocket and pulled out a worn business card with a familiar logo on it. She straightened her back. Years ago, after she had landed her first job as a high school counselor, she had dropped the card into a care package for her brother stationed in Iraq.

“Daniel gave you that? I don’t understand.” She rubbed her forehead, wishing she could fill her lungs with fresh air—air without this horrible smell.

“He wasn’t only worried about his own safety.” He never lifted his pensive gaze from her face. “He was worried about yours.”

“My safety?”

“Has anything out of the ordinary happened lately?”

Anna bit her bottom lip. Her mind’s eye drifted to the strange note she had found on her car after school last week. She shrugged. “Someone left a note on my car. It was nothing.” She struggled to recall the exact words on the note. “I think it said, ‘You’re next.’”

“Did you report it?”

Anna laughed, the mirthless sound grating her nerves. “No...I’m a high school counselor. A few faculty cars had been egged the week before. That’s all it was.” She scooted out of the car and brushed past him, turning her back to the crash site. “I took the job to help kids. If I ratted them out every time they looked at me sideways, they wouldn’t trust me.” Goodness knew where she’d be if her high school counselor hadn’t reached out to her.

“Anything strange besides the note?” The concern in his voice melted her composure.

Tears blurred her vision and she quickly blinked them away. “Other than the occasional disgruntled student—who is harmless, I can assure you—I live a pretty boring life.”

“Is there anyone you want me to call for you?”

“No,” she whispered, staring over the cornfields. An uneasiness seeped into her bones. Her brother tended to be the paranoid one, not her. But she couldn’t dismiss it. History told her things weren’t always what they seemed. “Can I see your credentials?” Anna met his assessing gaze; flecks of yellow accented his brown eyes. She turned the leather ID holder over in her hands. Special Agent Eli R. Miller. It seemed legitimate.

“You met my brother in person?” She studied him, eager to read any clues from the smooth planes of his handsome face. She wanted to ask: Did Daniel seem okay? Was he thin? Dragging a hand over her hair to smooth the few strands that had fallen out of her ponytail, she was ashamed she didn’t know the answers. Ashamed she had grown estranged from her big brother. Dear Lord, please forgive me. Let me find peace through this nightmare.

Special Agent Miller hiked a dark eyebrow. “Yes. We talked briefly a week ago. I had some questions concerning his return to Apple Creek.”

Anna jerked her head back. “I don’t understand. He was in Apple Creek working on his photography. Why would the FBI be concerned about my brother’s whereabouts?” Foreboding mingled with the acrid fumes hanging in the air.

“Your brother went to Genwego State University, right?”

“Yes.” She furrowed her brow. “He dropped out his senior year. What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m working a cold case. I’ve been re-interviewing people who lived in the area ten years ago.”

“Was my brother able to help you?”

“No. But when I met with him, he was worried about his safety and yours. I had a sense he was somewhat relieved I had contacted him.”

“Do you think I’m in danger?”

They locked eyes. He seemed to hesitate a moment before saying no.

She reached into her car and pulled out her purse. She dug out a new business card. Holding it between two fingers, she offered it to him. “May I trade you?”

He accepted the new card and handed her the old one. She flipped it over. In her handwriting on the back she had written: I’m only a phone call away. The faded ink was water-stained, but the message was clear. Yet the phone calls between her and her brother had become few and far between.

As she slipped the old business card into a pocket of her purse, the clip clop clip of what sounded like a horse reached her ears. She froze as a horse and buggy made its way along the country road. A man in a brimmed straw hat gently flicked the reins, urging the horse on. Tipping his hat, he seemed to make direct eye contact with the FBI agent as he passed.

Outlined against the purple and pink hues of the evening sky, the buggy maintained its steady progress until it crested the hill and disappeared. Anna made a full circle, taking in her surroundings, including the vast cornfield that greeted her brother’s demise. She had been so focused on the crash site—on her distress—she hadn’t noticed a neat farmhouse at the top of a long driveway across from the cornfields. A white split-rail fence ran the length of the property. A buggy, the same style as the one that had passed, sat next to the barn a hundred feet or so from the house. The early-evening shadows muted the details, but she realized something she had missed in her distracted state. “An Amish family lives here.”

Special Agent Miller nodded, seemingly unfazed. Obviously he wasn’t likely to miss such specifics. Besides, he had been in Apple Creek before now.

“My brother’s plane crashed on an Amish farm? Ironic.” A nervous giggle escaped her lips. “The very community that shuns most technology has one of man’s modern marvels plummeting to earth on their soil.”