"Maura," she whispered.
Maura shook her head imperceptibly.
The man who had met them at the road was leading them down a dark path illuminated only by the oil lamp he carried. Jakob Helmuth, he'd said warily, and only after Jane, Maura, and Frost had introduced themselves.
"Old Order Amish," Maura whispered as they followed a few paces behind him. "Extremely isolated, distrustful of outsiders."
"Why'd he tell us to follow him, then?"
"Well, they use the Bible as the only set of rules for living a faithful life, and that includes the tenets of charity and humility."
"I guess," Jane had whispered. "At least it's that, and not any of the parts that involve stoning."
Jakob glanced back at them, scowling slightly. Jane bit her lip. Her hand drifted over her hip, feeling the empty holster. She frowned, wishing she'd managed to bring a weapon.
"But didn't it seem like he was . . . I don't know, expecting us? Or, at the very least, not at all surprised to see us."
"Some sects take great pains to avoid any contact at all with the outside world," Maura whispered. Frost quickened his pace to match theirs, listening. "It's possible they haven't seen any English—"
"English?" Jane frowned at her.
"Outsiders," Maura said quickly. "It's possible they haven't seen anyone like us since before it happened. They may not even know it happened."
"I don't know if I should be nervous or jealous," Jane whispered.
"That makes two of us," Frost muttered. Then, "look." He pointed to a clearing, a large, plain house sitting in the middle. Candles burned in the windows, the overgrown yard more a field strewn with manual farm equipment that appeared to be decades old. Jakob didn't acknowledge them but headed straight onto the porch, hanging his lantern on a hook next to the door before disappearing inside.
"Should we . . . go in?" Jane asked.
"I doubt he brought us out here for our health," Frost said.
"Fuck, I wish I had my gun."
"That's two things I'd try to refrain from," Maura said. "Profanity and bloodlust. In fact, it'll probably be best if you just don't say anything at all."
"But-" her mouth dropped open.
Frost eyed Jane with intense skepticism.
"Fine," she muttered. "I'll try."
They stood in the dusk-dim yard for a moment, unsure of what to do. Jane unconsciously reached for her weapon again. "God . . . uh . . . darn," she whispered. "Sorry."
The front door swung open again, and a young woman with a sweet smile stepped onto the porch. "Please," she said, stepping aside, "come in. It's warm inside. We were just about to sit down to supper, we've added seats for you."
They stood for a beat, surprised by the young woman's warmth. "Um, yes, of course," Maura stammered. "Thank you, you're so kind."
"Hebrews 13:2," the young woman smiled. "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares." She blushed. "I'm sorry," she murmured, looking down. "I shouldn't have said that. Please, come in." She turned toward the door.
Jane glanced at Maura, confused. Humility, Maura mouthed. Jane cast her another befuddled look, but followed her up the steps into the house. Frost followed behind warily, glancing back in the direction they'd come from.
Inside, the young woman—Anna—had shown them to their seats at the long, unadorned table. Candlelight glowed from the windows; above them a plain glass oil lamp offered a brighter light though it wasn't enough for Jane to feel like she could memorize all the faces looking at her, registering everything from curiosity to, like Jakob seated at the head of the table, a barely-restrained loathing.
When everyone was seated—Jane counted nine people, not including the three of them, five women and four men—Jakob bowed his head. The rest of the faithful followed suit. Jane glanced at Maura, inwardly rolling her eyes when she saw her head bowed, but when she glanced at Frost and saw his head bowed in kind she sighed softly and dropped her eyes to the floor.
Jakob said a prayer in a German that sounded even more foreign than usual to Jane. After what felt to her like half a century, he intoned a low Amen, eliciting a ripple around the table.
Two of the women seated near the foot of the table stood up and retrieved dishes from a low sideboard, and once Jane realized supper meant hot food she realized she'd been hungry for months. The thousand questions buzzing around her brain, even though she knew she'd get in trouble with Maura and Frost for asking them, receded momentarily as she accepted the offered dishes.
Once they'd eaten, Jakob stood up at his place. The assembled plainfolk, not chatty to begin with, immediately fell silent. Jane reached carefully under the table and squeezed Maura's hand, hoping nobody would notice. Maura didn't react outwardly to Jane's touch, but returned the soft pressure.
"You may stay with us until it is safe for you to travel," Jakob said without prelude. His accent was heavier than Jane had thought at first. "We understand there has been a great . . . Unglück," he muttered, looking at the younger man seated at his right.
"Misfortune," Maura murmured.
"Yes," Jakob said, eying her suspiciously. He stared at her as he continued in the same strange German.
"Es tut mir leid, ich spreche kein Deutsch Pennsylvania," Maura said softly, looking up at him. Jakob looked at her, a mix of triumph and faintly grudging respect on his otherwise impassive face.
"We are sorry for your suffering," Jakob went on. "But we can do nothing for you save offer you a meal and a roof. We do not wish to have continued English interference in our lives."
Jane moved to speak, but Maura squeezed her hand under the table. Continued? she mouthed to Frost, who shrugged.
"That's very kind," Maura said. "We're very sorry to trouble you, and we thank you for your hospitality. We hope to move on soon, but we were given what appeared to be a message directing us to this place."
Jakob frowned deeply. "Anna," he said, still not looking away from Maura, "take them upstairs."
Anna stood, then bobbed in a short bow. "Yes, Father," she said. "Please come with me," she smiled, turning to Jane and Maura and Frost. They stood and followed her out of the room. Jane glanced back uneasily at the suddenly expressionless faces watching their departure.
"What did he mean, 'continued interference'? Who else has been here? And since when do you speak German?" Jane hissed at Maura as soon as they were out of earshot of the rest. She glanced at Anna, who appeared to be trying to hide the fact that she was listening.
"I learned Standard German in school, though I realize I'm quite rusty. Pennsylvania German is descended from the Northern German dialects, but it evolved in this region into its own distinct form, and I'm afraid I don't understand it very well."
Jane just sighed.
"You notice they all got real quiet when Jakob talked about our . . . misfortune?" Frost chimed in.
"Yeah, so someone's clearly been here from the outside since it happened. But five months ago? Five days ago?"
"I'm sorry," Anna said suddenly, "but please let me show you what Father meant." She paused in front of a closed door at the end of the hallway and knocked softly. Jane glanced at Maura and Frost.
After a short silence Jane heard the sound of a latch being opened and the door swung inward, revealing a softly-lit room and a young woman wearing jeans and a down jacket standing just inside.
"Carmen," Anna said, her voice soft and pleasant. "These are some new travelers Father met tonight. Jane, and Maura, and Barry. My new friends, this is Carmen, she came to us several nights ago much as you did, and has been waiting for the weather to allow her to move on, as you are."
Jane couldn't help staring. She was the first real person Jane had seen who wasn't Maura or Frost in months not counting the Amish who gave her a faint chill, even Anna, beaming angelically in the doorway.
"Well," Anna said after a moment, "I'll leave you to make your introductions." She retreated out of the room, pulling the door closed quietly behind her.
"Hello," Carmen said. "I'm so glad to see you."
"I'm sorry?" Jane frowned. "Who are you? How did you get here?"
"My name is Carmen Gutierrez," she said, crossing to the desk and pulling a battered leather wallet out of a nylon backpack. "This is—this was—my husband, Ron." She held out a photograph of a clean-cut young man, his dark hair meticulously parted and combed. He was wearing a suit and tie, it looked to Jane like a professional headshot.
"He looks nice?" Jane said. "Why are you showing this to me?"
"Ron works—worked—works, I don't know, he was with State," Carmen said, dropping the wallet back into the backpack.
They stood, speechless, for a moment.
"More CIA," Jane said after a beat. "Fucking great."
"Where is he?" Maura asked, ignoring Jane. "You said he was your husband, but then you referred to him working in the present tense."
"He came here with me, we were in DC up until a few days before. You know. Before . . . it happened."
Maura nodded.
"One day he came into the house and said 'babe, we're getting out of here,' and that was it. I packed a bag and got in the car and we drove out to Lancaster where Ron's family had a summer place and he said I had to stay there no matter what, and then he left again and I didn't see him until just a few weeks ago."
"And you didn't ask any questions?" Jane frowned.
Carmen smiled bitterly. "Ron's not the kind of guy you question," she said.
"Where is he now?"
Carmen shrugged. "He left. This morning. Or last night. When I woke up he was gone."
"And you didn't-"
"Jane," Frost cut in, touching her arm. Jane glanced at him and he grinned slightly, lifting his eyebrows. Jane's eyes slid back to Carmen, then once more to Frost.
She made brief eye contact with Maura, who lifted an eyebrow in faint confusion. She lifted her palms into the air and folded her arms.
"So, Ms. . . . Gutierrez," Frost said.
"Carmen," she smiled.
"Oh brother, already," Jane muttered under her breath.
"Carmen. You say your husband works for the State Department?"
She nodded.
Frost chuckled and shook his head.
"What? What did I say?"
"And he made you leave DC before the outbreak."
"Yes."
"And he took you to a family home, had you ever been there before?"
"No," she said, confused. "Why are you asking me these questions?"
"Safehouse," Frost said, shaking his head again. "Just like the one Donna was in."
"What's going on?" Carmen asked, looking at each of them in turn. "Who's Donna?"
"Donna was an agent," Maura said suddenly. Jane realized she'd taken a small step back as soon as Carmen had told them her husband's employer. "She betrayed us and nearly killed all of us herself. She was complicit in the bombing of a hospital with over a hundred innocent women and children in it. She was complicit in the government program that caused all of this destruction and horror to happen."
Jane glanced down and saw Maura's hands balled so tightly into fists her knuckles were nearly glowing white in the dim candlelight.
Maura had never told Jane exactly what had happened between her and Donna, had never talked to Jane about shooting her, but Jane and Frost had both quickly learned to avoid the subject if they wanted to avoid the discomfort of Maura's pointed dismissals. She'd never seen Maura react so viscerally to the mention of Donna's name before, though.
"I don't know anything about that," Carmen whispered, taking a step back of her own. "I swear, I just stayed at the house Ron took me to until he showed up there and brought me here last week."
Jane didn't stop watching Carmen as she moved to Maura's side, putting her arm around Maura's back, squeezing her briefly. Her hand drifted down and settled protectively at the curve of Maura's hip, free hand wrapped lightly around Maura's bicep. She rubbed at Maura's arm with her thumb until she saw her fists go slack, her hands falling open at her sides.
"You okay?" she murmured so only Maura could hear.
"Fine," Maura whispered, her voice tight.
"Well, Carmen, your husband took you to a safehouse designed to protect you from exactly what happened to everyone else," Frost said.
"So maybe he was a better guy than we think," Jane muttered.
Carmen laughed. "Don't bet on it," she said. "He was probably worried I would've somehow survived and gone after him for deserting me."
"Would you have? Gone after him, I mean."
She eyed Jane skeptically. "Not on your life. I was so relieved when he left me in Hershey. I was finally starting to believe he wasn't coming back and then bam, there he is, on the doorstep, telling me to pack a bag again." She glanced at the three of them, sighed, sat on the small bed. "Look," she said. "We had a terrible marriage and spent most of it apart. But he was very strong, very . . . authoritarian. I think it was his work, even though like all good spooks he never said exactly what it was he did. But I'm not dumb. Obviously he's involved in whatever it was that happened. He's gone now, but who knows for how long, or what he's doing, or where he is. Except," she said, "if he had anything to do with all this, with the crawlers, with the bombs, with that hospital," she looked directly at Maura, "I hope he's dead, and I hope it took a long time for him to die."
She folded her arms and looked out the window.
There was a long, uncomfortable pause.
"You, uh, you said you were glad to see us," Jane said finally. "Do you know anything about this?" She dug the scrap of paper from the New York mailbox out of her pocket, smoothed it, held it out to Carmen who took it, scrutinizing it carefully for a moment.
"No," she said. "Directions?"
"Good guess."
"'Township 431' kinda let the cat out of the bag on that one," she said wryly.
"You didn't leave it in a mailbox about fifty miles southeast of Syracuse?"
"The only time I've spent in Syracuse was bailing my uncle out of jail," Carmen replied. Frost snorted. Jane glared at him.
"What about your husband, could it be his handwriting?"
"Ron's really good at his job," Carmen said. "I couldn't tell you what his real handwriting looks like."
Jane crumpled the paper up again, paced the small room. "Okay. You say he left this morning?"
"No," she said. "I said he left last night or this morning; he was gone when I woke up."
"And you didn't notice him leaving?" Jane asked, indicating the narrow bed.
"He slept on the floor," Carmen said, lifting an eyebrow.
Jane made a few more tight circles around the room. "So what did you mean by 'glad to see us'?"
"What, you mean these guys don't freak you out a little bit?"
Jane paused. Carmen had a point.
"And anyway, you're the first . . . I guess 'real' people I've seen in months. Except Ron. And his friend, I didn't get her name."
Jane spun on the ball of her foot, faced Carmen. "Her name?"
"Yeah, it was a woman. She was in the car when Ron came and got me in DC."
Jane glanced at Maura, would've sworn her gun hand was twitching. Frost looked on impassively.
"Can you describe her?" Jane asked carefully.
Carmen furrowed her brow. "You know," she said, "I got a pretty good look at her, but . . . actually, no, I can't. She looked like . . . just a person, you know?"
"Yeah," Jane muttered. "I know."
"That's so weird," Carmen said, still frowning. "I can't remember her face at all, really. She didn't say anything, though. Just sat in the backseat while Ron drove. He didn't say anything either, before you ask," she added pointedly. "But he never did. Does. Did."
"So you weren't expecting us," Frost said. Carmen looked at him and laughed, surprised.
"No, of course not. But I'm sure as hell glad you're here. Do you have a car?"
Frost and Jane glanced uneasily at each other, then both looked back at Maura, still watching Carmen with a blank face.
"Look," Carmen said abruptly, standing up and taking a tentative step toward Maura. "Maura, right? Look, Maura, I'm really, really sorry about what happened to you. I swear to you I don't know anything about it. I swear. I married a man who lies for a living, I can't even afford to believe in what I know is true. But please, I'm in the same boat you are. Everyone I love is dead, as far as I know. Ron—Christ, who knows what Ron's doing or why he bothered to save me. But here I am, and here you are, and if you have a car and will at least take me back to Lancaster I'll be eternally grateful and forever in your debt."
Carmen exhaled, knitting her fingers together nervously as she watched Maura's face.
"Can you shoot?"
"Yes," Carmen whispered, sagging with what looked to Jane like relief. "I used to hunt with my father."
"Can you defend yourself?"
"Yes."
"Do you know anything about medicine?"
"I met Ron when I was in nursing school. I didn't finish," she said quickly. "Because of him. But I made it through a year and half."
"To Lancaster?" Maura's voice betrayed nothing, though Jane was beginning to suspect they were going to have to start splitting the coffee four ways.
"Yeah, it's only about forty miles."
Maura bit her lip, frowned.
"You should come with us," she said.
"Maura—"
"She may know more than she thinks she does," Maura said. "And we may find something in Lancaster."
"We'll find guns at least," Frost said, "if it really was a safehouse like the others."
"There were a couple of doors I didn't have the keys to," Carmen said. "I figured they were just linen closets or something."
Jane and Frost exchanged glances.
"So . . ." Jane trailed off, looking back at Maura.
"So," Maura said, making an effort to lighten her tone. "While this is certainly a fascinating case study in cultural anthropology, I don't know that I'd be able to find a scholarly journal still accepting submissions."
"Good job, Maura!" Jane said, chuckling. "Jokes aren't her strong suit," she explained to a confused-looking Carmen.
"I'm told I'm getting better."
"Who told you that?"
"Detective Frost."
"Frost!" Jane groaned.
"What?" Frost grinned. "She is."
"All right," Carmen said slowly, "uh, well, I'm gonna go find Anna, she's the most normal one here. I mean, no disrespect or anything, but . . . you know. She's nice. So they can find you places to sleep, I mean."
Jane nodded. Carmen smiled at them nervously, then left the room.
"You okay, Maura?"
"Her husband knew Donna," Maura said. "He worked with her. He must know something, Jane, and Carmen too, even if she doesn't think so."
"You believe her?" Jane asked gently.
"I do," Maura replied, looking at Jane gravely. "I believed Donna to be a good person until she knocked me out and shot you. It seems clear that there's more going on here than any of us knows about. But we have a solid lead now, at least."
"See?" Jane crowed excitedly. "I knew you'd love clues."
"I don't love clues, Jane," Maura smiled, "but I love you, and I owe it to you, and to Frost—" Frost had looked away, slightly embarrassed by hearing Maura's declaration—"and I owe it to everyone who has lost their lives because of these people to find out what's going on."
Jane grinned crookedly. "I knew you couldn't resist," she murmured, touching Maura's cheek."
"Uh, guys?" Frost said. "Still here."
Maura blushed. "Apologies, Detective Frost."
"Must be something about all those ankle-length skirts," Jane said, winking at him.
Carmen came back up the stairs with Anna in tow. "Barry, would you come with me?" she asked sweetly. "Maura, Jane, I'm afraid we're a bit short on space and if you don't mind I'll have to ask you to share a room with Carmen for the night."
"Lucky," Jane whispered to Frost as he headed toward his room.
"Yeah," he whispered back, eying Maura and Carmen. "I'm the lucky one."
A/N: Yaaay, they're getting out of Pennsylvania! TO EXPLORE THE MYSTERIES! The plot is ever-thickening, Carmen knows how to shoot a gun, Maura hates the CIA. Also, for those of you who have asked (is the polite way I'll phrase that): the assumption is that Maura and Jane are already sleeping together. They couldn't last time because of broken ribs and gunshot wounds. I don't know that a sex scene is appropriate for a story like this, since it's more about the story than it is about the relationship, but I'll make it a little clearer. Don't give up; there will be smooching. I mean, if you do give up because I'm not going to up the rating for titillation's sake, I hope you find some freaky smut that makes you happy, I really really do 3