Readers can learn more about Nancy through her Web site: www.nancymehl.com. She is also very active on Facebook.
FROM NANCY:
Rising
Darkness is finally available! The final book in the Finding Sanctuary Series reaches
back in time. In fact, it reaches into
Sophie
Wittenbauer left her strict Mennonite hometown under a cloud of shame and
regret. After a rough childhood, her teenage poor choices harmed others,
leaving her with no choice but to change her life. Her entry-level writing job
at a newspaper puts her in the right place at the right time to overhear office
gossip about a prisoner who has information on a decades-old unsolved crime.
While the other reporters write off the tip as the ravings of an angry
criminal, Sophie can’t ignore it because she knows the name of this prisoner
from her old life.
Upon learning
from the man that one of the other suspects is hiding out in the Missouri town
of Sanctuary, she takes on a false identity to investigate and meets the young
pastor of a local church–the very man she’d loved as a troubled teenager. As
she gets closer to finding the suspect, will the truth of her own past come out
before she discovers the identity of the criminal–or the very person she’s
seeking puts a fatal stop to her investigation?
Here’s
part of the first chapter to get you started…
CHAPTER
ONE
There
was something about the smell of prison that made me feel an almost
overwhelming urge to run. It wasn’t the high fences that surrounded the prison
in El Dorado, Kansas, or the dour-faced security guards, or even the electronic
doors that slid shut behind me as I made my way to the room where visitors met
with inmates. For some reason it was the sharp aroma of bleach and disinfectant
that made me feel something dark lurked beneath the unpleasant smell.
I glanced around the large room at
the other visitors who had come to meet with prisoners. Although most of the
conversations seemed relaxed, even friendly, there was something about the men
who wouldn’t be walking out the front door when their visit was over. The panic
in their eyes that came from the reality of knowing there was no way out. I
shivered involuntarily and stared down at the cold white table top. Even though
it was only March, the air conditioning in the room was turned up high. I
pulled my jacket tighter, trying not to shiver.
The door to the room opened and a
guard led a man in. I almost didn’t recognize him. Tom Ford had changed. His
dark, greasy hair was cut short and his acne-scarred face had cleared. He was
still small, but his matchstick thin arms now had muscles. It seemed bizarre to
think he was actually healthier now than he had been as a free man. He didn’t
meet my gaze as he approached the table where I waited for him. Instead he sat
down, the chains around his ankles rattling.
“He needs to be back in his cell in
thirty minutes,” the guard said brusquely before he turned and walked over to
stand next to another guard who leaned against the wall. I smiled at them but
was rewarded with blank stares. I had the distinct feeling they felt the
friends and family of prisoners were as guilty as their charges – as if they
were somehow responsible for their criminal behavior.
The guard that led Tom into the
visitor’s room watched me with narrowed eyes, his expression bordering on
antagonism. His attention made me uncomfortable so I swung my gaze back to Tom
who appeared to be ignoring me. I’d begun to feel claustrophobic and extremely
uncomfortable.
Finally, Tom looked up and frowned
at me. “You’re that reporter from the newspaper in Saint Louis, right? When you
called here I told you not to come. That I changed my mind.”
I nodded and swallowed several
times, trying to calm my ragged nerves.
“Why didn’t you listen? It’s not
like anyone’s beatin’ down the doors to talk to me. No one else even bothered
to answer my letters.”
I took a deep breath. “I want to
hear what you have to say.” My voice came out in a near whisper. I breathed in
and out slowly, an exercise designed to bring calm. I had an important task to
accomplish, and there was no choice but to focus and finish what I came to do.
“I was wrong to write to your
paper,” Tom said gruffly. “Terrance Chase is dead.”
“Did your letter have anything to do
with that special on TV?” I asked.
He didn’t respond, just stared down
at the table.
“That show brought a lot of
attention to the robbery – and Chase. What did you see that prompted you to
write to us?”
Still no answer. Just a cold glare,
probably designed to make me back off.
“Over six million dollars stolen.
Two guards dead, along with Chase’s partner.”
No reaction. I met his gaze head on.
“You don’t recognize me, do you?” I said finally.
“I ain’t never met you. I’d
remember.”
I managed a small smile. “The name
Sophie Bauer didn’t help?”
He shook his head. “Still don’t know
you.”
“I’m Sophie. Sophie Wittenbauer.”
He still looked confused, and I
wanted to slap him.
“From Kingdom?” Bringing up the
small Mennonite town in Kansas where I’d grown up made my stomach clench.
Breaking free from that place was the best thing I’d ever done, and I was
certain everyone in Kingdom felt the same way.
This time his jaw dropped and
recognition chased away his perplexity. “You look totally different. Your
hair’s different. And you’re not…” He colored and pursed his lips.
“Fat?”
I’d had my ugly dishwater blonde hair cut
short and streaked. Now I wore it in a cute bob I felt looked good on me. Of
course, losing so much weight had changed me more than anything else. And
trading my one simple faded, dirty black dress for attractive modern clothes
made a world of difference too. Thinking about the dress I’d worn in Kingdom,
two sizes too small with a hem that reached to my ankles, made me shiver. I
would never be that person again. Gone was the filthy unkempt teenager. And
good riddance.
“You look different too,” I said.
He nodded. “Prison will do that to
you.”
“Changing your life will do that
too.” I clasped my hands together on the top of the table because I didn’t know
what else to do with them. “After I left Kingdom I got my G.E.D. I’m working my
way through college and will earn a degree in a little over a year. Right now
I’m working for the Saint Louis Times.” I neglected to tell him my current
assignment was obituaries and the occasional restaurant review. But hopefully,
Tom Ford would be my ticket to writing bigger stories. Stories that mattered.
He stared off into the distance.
“Yeah, I understand. I’m hopin’ to get another chance someday too. But right
now I’m lookin’ at a long stretch.” His eyes locked on mine. “That’s why I
wrote those letters. Thought maybe my information about Terrance Chase might
get me a deal. But nobody believed me. Nobody even got back to me. Until you,
that is.”
“There have been a lot of rumors
about Terrance Chase. Especially after that special. But most of the
information has been bogus. Just people wanting to insert themselves into the
investigation. The overwhelming belief is that Chase is dead. An old friend of
his swears to it. Says Chase was ambushed and killed. The money taken.”
Tom shrugged. “Maybe I was wrong.
Wouldn’t be the first time.”
I sighed. “Look, Tom. I saw a copy
of your letter. You sounded convinced that Chase is alive, and that you know
where he is. Then suddenly, you change your mind? It doesn’t make sense. Are
you afraid of something?”
Tom grunted. “In here?” His eyes
darted around the room and then came back to settle on me. The bold, cocky
expression he’d been exhibiting slipped a notch. His voice was so soft, I could
barely hear him say, “Of course I’m afraid.”
A chill ran through me. I wanted
this story. Even if I had to lie. “You don’t have to worry,” I said, ignoring a
brief twinge of conscience. “Talk to me off the record. I won’t print anything
you don’t want me to. But if you give me something I can use to find Chase, I
could go to bat for you. You know, try to get you a reduced sentence.”
His eyes narrowed. “I’ll need more
than that. You gotta get me outta here, Sophie. Less time and a new prison.
Someplace where no one knows me. I…I feel like I’m being watched all the time.
Ever since I sent those letters.”
Part of me wanted to tell him the
truth. That I had no ability to help him. That I was just a peon at the paper,
but what came out of mouth was fueled by my determination to be somebody. To
prove I wasn’t the worthless human being my father had told me I was. An image
of his leering face floated through my mind, and I felt ill.
“You have my word. I’ll do
everything I can to protect you. My paper has a lot of contacts. With people
who can help you.”
He appeared to consider my offer. Once
again his eyes scanned the room. The tension in his face tugged at my emotions,
but I couldn’t back down now.
“Now tell me why you changed your
mind about sharing what you know,” I said. “And tell me the truth.”
Watch for a special contest that will announced on Friday! Someone will win the entire Finding Sanctuary Series!
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