In Plain View (Amish Safe House, Book 2) (7 page)

A bell rang as she opened the door. Kate
shot a practiced look around the diner. It resembled a typical
breakfast restaurant; there were several booths lining the walls of
the eating area, a center isle of tables and chairs, and a large
kitchen, filled with staff. Despite the lack of customers, the
place was vibrant.

Kate walked toward the hostess, a young
woman with blonde hair styled in a bun, which sat atop her head
like a nest in a tall tree. “How many?” she asked Kate.

“Just one, please,” Kate said with a smile.
The hostess motioned her to follow and sat her in the corner, at a
slightly smaller booth than the rest.

“Would you like some coffee or tea to start
your morning?”

“Yes, some coffee, please,” Kate said.

The waitress pulled out a large menu, placed
it on the table, and told Kate she would be back soon for her
order. Before Kate could ask the waitress to wait, she had
disappeared into the back of the diner’s kitchen. The smell of eggs
and bacon tickled Kate’s senses as she did her best to resist the
urge to place an order. She kept telling herself she was only there
for information. While she flipped through the menu, Kate thought
about how best to approach the questioning of the waitress.

The waitress reappeared from the kitchen and
walked toward Kate with a pot of coffee in her hand. “Are you ready
to place your order?”

Kate smiled and looked up from the menu. “I
actually think I’m going to just have this coffee, but the food
does smell delicious.”

The waitress smiled back and continued
filling Kate’s mug with the dark, potent beverage. “Your coffee
smells wonderful,” she said.

“Many of our customers come just for our
coffee,” the waitress said.

As she turned to leave, Kate called out.
“Excuse me, miss.”

The waitress turned back.

“I’m actually here looking for my friend’s
uncle,” Kate said. “He used to tell us all the time that this was
his favorite breakfast place and that he was a regular. We haven’t
been able to get in touch with him for weeks. I was hoping maybe
you or someone on staff knew him.”

The waitress’s face grew pale, and a sad
frown overtook her previously happy demeanor. “Do you mean Ethan
Jackson
?”

Kate
nodded.

“
Oh,
I’m so sorry. I’m not quite sure how to say this, but Ethan was
found murdered recently.”

Kate reacted to the
news like a heartbroken friend hearing it for the first time. “Oh
my gosh, do you know what happened? No wonder we couldn’t get a
hold of him.”

The waitress patted her on the shoulder.
“I’m so sorry you had to find out this way.”

“If only we could get in touch with some of
his friends and find out what happened.”

The waitress nodded. “Actually, Ethan used
to come here alone mostly, but in the last couple of months I’ve
seen another man with him – many times, actually. He seemed to be a
nice guy, too. I figured they must’ve been very good friends when
they were young or something. The first time I ever saw this man
meeting him here, they were hugging and acting like they hadn’t
spoken in years.”

Kate listened carefully as the waitress
spoke. “Do you by chance know his name? Or could you describe him
to me?”

“He was probably in his mid or early
thirties, and I never saw a ring on any of his fingers, so he’s
probably not married. He had brown, short-cropped hair, and he wore
a pair of glasses. Let me go check the records and see if I can’t
find his name for you.”

Kate smiled. “Thank you, so much. If we can
at least find out what happened to him from his friends, it would
be wonderful.” She rubbed her eyes.

The waitress nodded and vanished to find the
man’s name.

When the waitress returned to the booth, she
had a piece of notebook paper folded up in her hands. “It’s against
company policy to give out any personal information about our
customers, but this one time I’ll make an exception. I’m so sorry
for your loss.” She handed Kate the piece of paper.

“Thanks so much,” Kate said. She finished
her coffee and paid at the cashier before leaving a twenty dollar
tip for the waitress.

When she reached the buggy, she pulled out
the note and unfolded it. Two words were scrawled on the paper. It
read:
Lucas Caden.

The name
Lucas
resonated with her for
some reason. As she tried to place his identity, it hit her out of
the blue. Lucas was the last person Ethan Jackson
had called before he died.

As Kate had no laptop, smartphone, or WiFi,
all she could do was head to the public library to use the
internet. It was only a short drive, and when Kate pulled into the
parking lot, she suppressed a shudder when she looked at the
building. The library was an old, drab building that looked as if
it had been lost and forgotten. It was nearly dilapidated. Kate
thought it a marvel that the thing was still standing.

Kate walked up to the front door and walked
in. As she approached the front desk, the old-fashioned hanging
lights flickered off for a brief moment. When the lights were back
on, Kate saw an old woman with an unkind expression on her face,
sitting at the counter. Kate was disappointed to see that it was
the same woman who had been here on her one and only previous
visit.

The woman did not speak, but fixed Kate with
a cold glare as she approached the desk. “Excuse me, I was hoping
to look at some old records -”

The woman silenced her with a quick finger
across her lips. “Shhhhhh.”

Kate inched closer and whispered. “I need to
look through some of the old phonebooks for this area.”

The woman jabbed her index finger to her
left. “Upstairs. Second hall,” she muttered.

Kate nodded and followed the finger
upstairs. After the second isle of books, she noticed a large shelf
full of old, dusty phonebooks. Kate looked through the sections
until she found one of the more recent books. She flipped through
the pages, using her index finger to highlight the names until she
reached the Cadens. James A Caden, Thomas E. Caden, Bruce B. Caden,
and several others lined the section, but no Lucas was to be seen.
With a sigh, Kate set to work searching through the mountain of
phonebooks.

Kate grew increasingly frustrated. She sat
in the middle of the isle, which was enclosed by two long walls of
books. Beside her sat at least twenty to thirty half-opened
phonebooks. She dropped her face into her hands and sat in silence.
How could this man not exist? Well, he did exist, she told herself,
but she was just having trouble finding him. With cell phones
eliminating landlines almost completely and what with so much more
privacy these days, it was beginning to get more and more difficult
for her to stay off the grid and still stick to this investigation.
As she pulled herself to her feet, she stumbled and fell backward
into the opposite wall of shelves.

“Ouch!” she yelled as her elbow slammed into
the shelf, knocking some books loose, which simultaneously fell
over her head, nearly collapsing her back to a sitting
position.

“Quiet up there!” the voice boomed.

Kate muttered under her breath. The sting of
the elbow hurt, but the knock on her head was a bigger pain. Kate
started picking up the phonebooks, when she noticed one said,
“Bristol County.”

That must be outside city limits, because
she had never even heard of that county before. Kate flipped
through the pages to the C section. Her finger touched the name,
Caden
. She went down the list of names that began with C
until she reached Lucas F. Caden.

That was why she had been unable find his
name in any of the other phonebooks. The victim might have lived in
this town, but he wasn’t from here. He was from the next county,
and that’s where his friend Lucas must be. The record was only a
few months old, so she was holding onto the hope that Lucas Caden
still resided at 126 Walden Road. Kate had neither pen nor paper,
so she hurried downstairs to the librarian.

The librarian’s eyes slowly rolled upward.
“Find what you need?” she whispered.

“Yes, I did, actually. I was wondering if
you -”

Again the stern librarian lifted her finger
to her lips. “Shhhhhh.”

Kate whispered, “Pen and paper, please.” The
woman reached under her desk and slammed a small, blank sheet of
paper and a pencil on the counter. “Thank you,” Kate whispered
before returning upstairs.

Kate jotted down the address and county, and
smiled. She knew she was now one step closer to finding out what
was going on and who killed Mr.
Jackson, and
why. Kate neatly returned each of the books to its shelf and made
her way back downstairs. She strolled up to the desk and smiled
politely, reaching out her hand to return the pencil. She nodded
and turned to leave.

“
Wait,” the voice growled.

Surprised, Kate turned
back to see the woman now standing in front of the desk. Both her
hands were resting on her hips, and a mean look covered her face.
Confused, Kate stepped closer and asked, “Yes, what is
it?”

“
That
will be fifteen cents, please,” the librarian said, in a louder
tone this time.

Kate was puzzled.
“Excuse me?”

“
The
pencil. It is fifteen cents to borrow one.” The old, irritable
woman pointed toward a plastic bin labeled,
Pencils: 15¢ per
use
.

Kate frowned. She dug
though her purse, and brought out a quarter.

“
Keep
the change,” she said angrily. She spun on her heel and walked
away, having no intention of returning to that dreadful place ever
again. As she got into the buggy, she felt bad for being angry. “An
Amish woman wouldn’t have been angry,” she said aloud, thinking of
the long talk on turning the other check that one of the ministers
had given at the last church meeting.

Philippians 2:1-30.
So if there is any encouragement in Christ, any comfort from
love, any participation in the Spirit, any affection and sympathy,
complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love,
being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from rivalry or
conceit, but in humility count others more significant than
yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but
also to the interests of others. Have this mind among yourselves,
which is yours in Christ Jesus.

Chapter
10
.

Kate paced back and forth in her cottage,
trying to think of a clever way to go and see Lucas. The words of
her boss played over and over in her mind, but she just could not
completely ignore the investigation. She needed to know what was
going on, and why the man with the same tattoo as the hitmen she
had relocated had ended up as a corpse in an Amish neighbor’s
pond.

Kate walked toward the Kauffman
haus
,
where Beth was weeding the garden. She leaned over the fence. “Hi,
Beth. Do you need anything in town? It’s such a lovely day – I
thought a buggy ride would do me some good and I could do your
grocery shopping.”

“
Wunderbaar
!” Beth exclaimed. “Well,
if you are sure you wouldn’t mind, I do have a list that I’ve have
been meaning to take care of. Stop by the house, and I’ll have the
list and money ready for you. I appreciate it. Isaac is always so
busy working around the farm, so it’s lovely having someone close
to us that is so willing to help out here and there.”

After picking up the grocery list and cash,
Kate left the farm and drove to town. She tied the horse and then
headed for the nearest Goodwill.

To her relief, the staff at Goodwill showed
no interest in an Amish woman buying a navy blue blazer and pants,
and white blouse, along with a pair of black shoes and a large
tote.

Kate paid for her purchases – but now, where
to change? Kate hurried to the public toilets in the park. It was
an overcast day, and the wind was increasing in ferocity, and
consequently, no one was around to witness her transformation.

Soon Kate was heading toward Lucas Caden’s
residence in a taxi. She had no idea how this would play out – if
only she had her badge and her gun. She knew the man would not
speak to her willingly, and she was aware how the scenario would
play out if she simply blindly approached him.

As the taxi pulled up to the nearly
dilapidated Victorian home, Kate rehearsed her lines in her mind.
Her plan was to offer Lucas Caden immunity from prosecution as long
as he was forthcoming with information that led to an arrest in the
case. She wasn’t entirely certain how she would be able to keep
that promise, but she stayed optimistic that the police
investigating the case would not stumble onto Lucas’s tracks the
way she had. Kate had the taxi wait for her down the road, out of
sight.

The sound of her knuckles colliding with the
oak door reminded Kate of her time as a U.S. Marshal. Life out here
wasn’t so bad, but she did miss being an agent. Now she was simply
a former agent playing some roles. She playing a role, but she
would never gain fame or praise for doing so – the sole function
her acting played was that of saving her own life.

The door swung open suddenly, and then
disappeared from view as a middle-aged man adorned the doorway.
“Yes, can I help you?”

“You most certainly can. I’m Detective
Austen. I work out of the sheriff’s office.” She tapped her hip to
give the impression that she had a firearm holstered there.