Chapter Three
Dr. Reid loosened the tie around his neck as he strode across the parking lot of the local hardware store; he had abandoned his jacket before mid-morning, and his customary decorum along with it. Being from Las Vegas, he had long ago become comfortable with extremes of heat in the summer, but the damp, heavy air of the Midwest was something he was not prepared for...the sweat hung on his body and under his hair; it had made him lethargic and cranky the minute he woke up. He figured that keeping busy would keep his mind off the heat, and the team was getting antsy - no one had any clue where to look next, and forensics results were slow.
He had nearly lost his mind through the morning. The entire town was shut down and at the local churches, apparently. He had tried to locate his colleagues but found everyone sleeping in, except Prentiss, who was out running, and J.J. who had gone to church. She had invited him along, but he wasn't in the mood to spend two hours being polite to people he didn't know and shaking hands with dozens of strangers simply because he was there. Crowds had always made him nervous. So he had spent some time in the local cafe, with a plate of waffles and several mugs of coffee, keeping company with his notepad and a motherly waitress who kept the coffee coming along with friendly chatter. She had told him that the hardware store was open late the night of the kidnapping.
He noticed several three-sided sheds with stalls running along the edge of the lot, inside which several buggies stood - the horses grateful to be out of the afternoon sun. He snapped a photo with his cell-phone and laughed softly at himself for being such a tourist. In front of the entrance, another buggy awaited the owner. Reid stepped carefully around the front of horse, who waited until the young man was directly in front of his nose before snorting loudly, causing Ried to jump. He glanced around, embarrassed.
Inside, more surprises met his eyes...aisles of tack for harnesses, feed buckets, ropes, various things with which he was not familiar, things particular to an agrarian way of life, close to the earth, livestock, and horse-drawn vehicles. Things never seen in a hardware store in Quantico. The local population of shoppers mingled easily with the dark-clad Amish men in the store, each offering a polite greeting when required. Notices and hand-made signs were tacked to a large cork-covered wall, advertising hay, shoeing, buggy repairs, horses for sale.
A clerk behind the register noticed Reid surveying the scene. "Can I help you, Sir?" he asked as he handed a bag to an elderly man and wished him a good day.
Reid removed his badge from the pocket of his shirt and held it up before him. "I'm Dr. Reid, I'm with the FBI..."
The clerk came around from behind the counter to greet Dr. Reid with a handshake. "Tom Wilson, Dr. Reid. What can I do for you?"
"I need to ask you a few questions about ... the other night? Was anyone here after 8:00 PM, Mr. Wilson?"
"It was Friday - I was here. People come in for feed and supplies late, for the weekend. I keep the door open if I can stand it, as long as I'm here."
"Did anyone come in who wasn't from around here?"
"Well, I don't think so," Tom thought as he scratched his head,"I was occupied with some inventory. I wasn't watching. I have a kid who works here part-time, and he might have helped someone."
"Do you remember anyone buying a lot of rope, or anything unusual?"
Tom laughed. "Rope? Everyone is always buying rope!" Reid shifted his weight, thinking that he was very far out of his element, and he was not as sure of himself as usual, not here in this rural atmosphere. He needed a farmer in his pocket to keep him from making a fool of himself during an interview.
"Wait!" Tom said suddenly. "There is something." He glanced around at the customers in the store. "Excuse me for a moment." He disappeared briefly, during which time Reid felt himself closely observed by several Amish men. He busied himself with reading the notice board, pretending not to notice.
Tom returned with another clerk, who stepped behind the counter. "You have time for a coffee, Dr. Reid? Let's step across to the cafe."
Reid was always game for more coffee, but he was becoming as familiar with the inside of the cafe as he was with his own apartment. "Sure."
"Hello Honey," smiled his favorite waitress when he walked in behind Tom, "You back for lunch?" She seated them in a quiet corner at Tom's request, and before she had brought the coffee pot, Tom settled right into the conversation. "Dr. Reid, there is an odd thing. I don't know if it has anything to do with those kids disappearing, but maybe you need to know about it. You see, there was a bit of thing a few years back..." he stopped and smiled as Loretta poured their coffee, and thanked her. He watched her walk away before continuing, "The Amish are a private people, so it's difficult to talk about because I don't know how much is conjecture." He poured cream into his coffee and stirred it thoughtfully. "And I want to be fair."
Reid watched Tom's face: a pleasant man, a moral man, trying to paint an accurate view of his neighbors. He imagined Tom was well-liked in town, and his occupation put him in a position to be well-acquainted with most people - with most of the male population anyway, within and without the Amish community. "Anything you can share, Mr. Wilson, could potentially help our investigation."
"Well, there was a problem with an Amish man. He was ... he seemed to be a bit off. A bit of a temper, which you rarely see with those people. There were stories that he was making a lot of trouble for them. They tried to get him some help but didn't go too far because they don't really trust outsiders. Anyhow, he finally left, is what I heard, and moved away somewhere. Always wondered about that. .. him being Amish and all. Where he went."
Tom looked hard at Spencer and leaned into the table, "And that's what I want to say here. On Thursday he shows up in the store, after all that time. It's been maybe two and a half, three years since he left. I was surprised to see it."
Reid wracked his brain to think of any way this could be related to the crime. He doubted it was, and regretted that Tom's kindness would go unrewarded. But they were looking for at least two non-Amish men. Leah had confirmed that. "What is this Amish man's name, Mr. Wilson?"
Tom laughed aloud before answering, "Well, they all have about eight or ten last names around here - they are all related. And some of them have the same name. But this man is one Jacob Yoder."
Reid's brows furrowed as he thought, "Is he any relation to Amos Yoder?"
"Might be. . like I said they are all related somehow. And Yoder is like Smith with the Amish."
~~/~~
An hour later, Reid sat in the passenger seat of the SUV, anticipating the turn onto the gravel County Road T that led to the center of the Amish area. After talking to Tom Wilson earlier, he had immediately phoned Hotch: he wanted to find out more about how the Amish community was connected, and see if there was anything to the story of Jacob Yoder's return. Although he had wanted company and moral support, Hotch and Rossi were busy discussing another case, and Hotch suggested that Reid take J.J. out to the farms for rest of the day and see what they could learn. After some thought, Reid thought that Hotch's might be the best idea...Reid knew that he and J.J. were about as non-threatening as they could get, if a little out-of-place in Amish country. In his case, very out-of-place. But he still felt drawn to the remoteness and quiet of the Amish world, and found its history and culture intellectually appealing.
He had just removed his tie and folded it neatly before placing it in the glove compartment, when they came upon a large group of young men and boys walking in the road. They waved as the automobile crawled by, J.J. taking care not to kick up too much dust onto them. Spencer returned their smiles shyly, feeling that the SUV was an intrusion into their world somehow. "Why are there so many of them together I wonder," asked J.J. more to herself than to Reid. Further down the road, they passed a large house that seemed to have an impromptu porch gathering. Several of the crowd of Amish faces turned to watch the SUV drive slowly by. Reid shifted in the car seat and felt himself growing nervous. During the two previous visits into this otherworldly place, there was never more than a few of the Amish together in any one place, but today something was different. There were large groups gathered.
J.J. came to a crossroads and stopped, looking at Reid. "Which way?" Reid looked down to study a local map spread across his lap, "Just a minute..I don't know if all these little roads are on here..."
"I'll go left," laughed J.J. Reid sighed. He loved her company - J.J. was full of fun, something Reid indulged in occasionally himself. The years had passed without his having much opportunity in life to truly play. J.J.'s presence reminded him of that. Once, he had dressed in Halloween costume and gone into the BAU with bags of candy. J.J. had been the one to help him hand it out, and demand a mask of her own. Truth be told, he had been a little disappointed when she took up with her husband. He had always wished...but he knew she had never been interested in him. Most women weren't. He didn't blame them - what did he have to offer? Morgan said he was "pretty" in jest, but Reid knew there was a bit of something like jealousy behind the words. The first few times Morgan called him that word, Reid had gone home to stand in front of the mirror for long periods of time, sizing up his inadequacies. The exercise made him wince. His slenderness bordered on emaciation. His eyes were rimmed with dark circles that never seemed to go away. His longish hair was - despite Prentiss' pronouncement that she would kill to have hair like it - impossible, falling into his face much of the time. But if he cut it, he looked like a child, and that was the ultimate in appearance flaws to avoid for Spencer Reid. "Twenty-nine going on twelve," he whispered to himself in disgust.
"What did you say?" J.J.'s voice startled him out of his thoughts. "Oh look," she said before he could answer, and pointed to the right. In the large front yard of a white Amish house stood three little girls with an armful of rabbits. They were all barefooted, and without the customary headgear. Their golden hair had been neatly tied up into buns and braids, but hours of play and breeze had loosened it. They waved as the SUV passed, and a young woman walked quickly across the year to them, her eyes suspiciously upon the vehicle. J.J. returned the wave, and the woman smiled and waved back.
After another half a mile - easily five minutes of slow travel on the gravel road - the houses were suddenly closer together and closer to the road. In between a few scattered buildings appeared - a general store, a blacksmith. Reid was studying the map between bewildered glances around them, "There is no town here. It isn't HERE. Why is it not on the map?"
"It's all Amish, Spence, look. Maybe they don't care to be found on a map." J.J. slowly pulled to the side of the road and stopped. "Should we see who will talk to us?" J.J. was fairly giddy with the adventure of it all, and her forced tone of professionalism wasn't suppressing it. It occurred to Reid that J.J. hadn't had the experience of an intimate conversation with the Amish at this point. She had no idea the disappointment awaiting her as they got out of the SUV.
A hand-lettered sign stood in front of one house. Stuck into the ground by the post it was tied to, it advertised fresh eggs. "Come on!" said J.J. and started up the dirt driveway. Reid followed nervously, noticing that the man working beside the barn had stopped what he was doing to stand up and watch. A small woman exited the house before they had time to knock. She greeted them shyly only after J.J. enthused, "Hi! We were interested in some eggs!" She did not offer her hand, and seemed not to notice when J.J. did.
Half an hour later they were walking down the street with a box of 13 eggs, having paid the woman $3 for them after she asked for just $1. "Wow," J.J. was laughing, "What was HE so nervous about?" They had learned from the conversation that no one would be working on a Sunday here, and that on alternate Sundays, everyone was out socializing rather than at a church service, so they were stuck with speaking to whomever they might encounter as they drove around, and were likely to find big groups. After shaking his hand and commenting on the enormous size and strength of the draft horses in the corral, Reid had felt some rapport with the stone-faced man. He had then asked about Jacob Yoder. "Do you know him?"
"Yah." The man uttered and looked at his horses.
"Does he. .. does he live around here?"
"No."
"Sir, I am interested in talking to him. Do you know where I could find him?"
The Amish man's face slowly turned to Reid's. "He is the son of Amos Yoder. You should ask Amos."
Reid's heart skipped. He hadn't realize the connection would be so close. He was grateful for the tidbit and was eager to share it with the others - finally a small puzzle piece to offer. "Thank you, " he had said, and had offered his hand again to the man. "Come on J.J."
Surprised and amused by the command in Reid's tone, J.J. shrugged and smiled at the Amish woman, and followed him down the lane.
~~/~~
Near 6:30 pm that evening, as the shadows grew long over the Youngstown streets, the clip clop of a horse was heard and a buggy pulled up in front of the doors of the police station. Amos Yoder and Ezra Troyer hopped out and went into the station, where the BAU team waited to interview Yoder.
When they entered the lobby, Amos walked past agents Rossi and Hotchner and stopped before Dr. Reid. "Am I to be jailed?" he demanded. Troyer stood behind him silently, head down, hat on.
As they often did, Reid's fine features dramatically betrayed his astonishment at the question. "Uh..no Mr. Yoder. You aren't being arrested for anything. We just want to speak with you."
"Let's go into the other room," offered Rossi and gestured for the Amish men to step to the back of the station where an interrogation room was set up.
Once they were seated, Hotch got right to the point. "Your son, Jacob, has recently returned from a long absence."
Yoder sat silent, arms folded, and stared back at Hotch.
"These are his children who were taken."
Yoder continued to stare in silence, but Hotch was also a stubborn man. He waited, and won.
"Yah. Jacob is my son."
"Where is he? If you had been forthcoming we would be talking to him right now instead of you."
Reid, Morgan and Prentiss stood in the adjacent room where they watched the interview through a one-way glass. "I called the kids her brother and sister," said Reid.
Prentiss glanced at Morgan and back at Reid, "What?"
"I feel like an idiot. I assumed they were siblings."
Prentiss stifled a smile, "I don't think that mattered, Reid."
"No wonder she couldn't trust me," Reid continued, "I don't even understand the family dynamics."
Hotch was continuing to pry information from a reluctant Amos Yoder. "Where is your son? Mr. Yoder, we know that two English men killed the women in your family - your daughter and your daughter-in-law.. But we need to speak to Jacob, to know whether he has knowledge of the whereabouts of your grandchildren."
"Jacob is not here."
"He was seen in town two days ago, ."
"Jacob is not here."
Reid abruptly opened the door between the rooms and joined Hotch, who looked up, surprised. Hotch had learned over six years to trust Reid's instincts. If his quirkiness had initially suggested he lacked understanding, that suggestion had proven to be deceptive. Hotch had to admit to himself that the kid often picked up on things the rest of the team didn't. And he was at his wit's end with Amos Yoder.
Reid quietly pulled up a chair and sat down. "Mr. Yoder, we need to find your grandchildren," he said in slow, polite, deliberate tones,"And we also need to find out who killed the women in your family. We think Jacob's story may help us do that. Why did he leave?"
Yoder ignored the immediate question and stated,"We don't believe in vengeance. Even the vengeance of the state. We believe in forgiveness. You will not find the killers unless God wills it. They are not important."
Reid furrowed his brow, digesting this information. "But you want us to find your grandchildren, don't you Mr. Yoder." He waited. "Mr. Yoder, where is Jacob?"
"Jacob is their father. If they are with him, they are safe."
"But you don't KNOW that they are with him, do you?"
Amos Yoder sighed then, a long, weary sigh. "No."
~~/~~
When Hotch watched the buggy pull back onto the highway twenty minutes later, he was tired too. This case was impossible. The Amish were a stone wall. He didn't understand them, their reluctance to communicate, their philosophy of life. He silently scoffed at the romance with which J.J. and Prentiss discussed the backward lives of these people. Surely the Amish had dark secrets like anyone else. He could bet that Amos Yoder did. He could almost smell it. Reid had only been able to skim the surface.
But as Reid started down the street toward the hotel, he was more optimistic than was Hotch. Spencer had declined Morgan's offer for a ride, preferring to walk and mull over the day. The Amish were drawing him in, stimulating his interest. He was frustrated along with the rest of the team, but he wasn't bored. He was intrigued. He wondered what things Aubrey Bennett might know about the Amish, through her years of study. He would have liked to hear her speak about her research ... but the thought of approaching her about it caused a cold sweat to creep up his back and around the sides of his ribs, even in the warm air of the early evening. Still, if only he could approach these people with more confidence, with greater understanding of their view on the world, maybe they could get somewhere with this puzzle even before the forensics came back.
He had stopped to stare up the trunk of a large oak tree when he sensed a car slowing beside him on the street. "Dr. Reid.." came a soft familiar voice, and he froze momentarily before gathering himself to turn around. Aubrey leaned over to see him outside the passenger window. "Another tree lover," she smiled up at him, "I sometimes wonder what those old ones would tell us, if they could speak. About the past I mean, the way things... were once." She stopped and laughed at herself, embarrassed, "You know what I mean."
"Uh.. sure!" he returned the laugh and stared at the sidewalk before forcing himself to meet her eyes again. A few moments of silence passed between them during which he cursed himself a thousand times for not finding any available words.
"Dr. Reid," she started,
"Spencer!" he interrupted. "It's Spencer. Call me...Spencer."
She smiled the slow, sweet smile again that he could not bear to look at. "Spencer, do you have to be somewhere? I'd really like to show you something..."
He rocked back on his heels and shrugged, "Sure!"
"Get in!"
Aubrey's Jeep took them back out onto the highway, headed toward Amish country, once again. The late evening air had grown cooler as the sun set slowly and Aubrey rolled the window down. Sitting beside her, Reid could catch a faint whiff of perfume as the breeze came toward him, and when he could steal a glance he watched stray curls blow across her cheek. He found himself feeling faint. He wondered if Morgan ever felt faint around a girl. He wondered what Morgan would say if he could see him now, alone with Aubrey and stupidly feeling like he might vomit any minute.
