Hidden in Harmony: Danger is Imminent (Harmony Series Book 1) Read online

  After quietly thinking for a few moments, Brock expressed concern for Remington’s safety. “What if the real assailant lives in the area? Remmy might become his next victim.”

  “Besides,” Brock added, “I want to be involved in the investigation myself. If I show up in that boy’s neighborhood, with or without you guys, it might look like I’m stalking him or additional accusations could be made against me.”

  Collin agreed to take his concerns into consideration, but reminded him that he was the head of the household and he would have to make the decision he felt was best. The words Collin had spoken at the family meeting had not been empty; he wanted to honor God by being the leader God had called him to be.

  ◆◆◆

  It didn’t take long before they arrived at the tree nursery. About a dozen men and three or four women were standing outside talking. Not seeing Stephen, Brock walked over to ask the group where he needed to go to clock in.

  “Oh, you must be the new guy?” one of the ladies asked. “Brock, right?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “Ma’am?... Did you all hear that?” the lady asked. “He called me, Ma’am.”

  Brock didn’t understand she was insulting his manners. He got the wrong idea entirely. I thought she looked like a woman. She certainly sounded like a woman. I didn’t mean to be offensive.

  “I’m sorry, Sir,” he attempted to correct himself.

  The group laughed — Brock was the only one who was not amused. “You must be some kind of stupid; the time clock’s over there, dummy,” the woman said, pointing to a small building next to the office where he had originally met Stephen.

  As he was making his way toward the building, a bald man whose face was partially hidden behind a thick rusty beard came up beside of him. “Brock, my name is Salem. I’m going to be your supervisor today,” the man said as he put his hand out.

  Brock shook his hand and said, “Nice to meet you, Sir.”

  Salem smiled and showed Brock how to work the time clock. He then told him to join the group to wait for Stephen’s announcement of the day’s plans.

  Minutes later, Stephen marched out of the office. “Good morning, everybody,” he said before pausing and looking around. “Jim, where are your gloves?”

  A chunky guy with a mouth full of beef jerky replied, “I forgot ‘em at home.”

  Stephen’s eyes turned to giant saucers. The adam’s apple stuck in that long neck of his began to bulge out even further than normal. A purplish colored vain suddenly appeared in the center of his forehead. “That’s the third time this month, Jim. I’m not giving you another pair. You can either pay for another set or you can work without them,” he barked.

  “Fine; have it your way! I quit!” Jim yelled, before turning and stomping off.

  I’m gratified he’s not going to be overseeing me personally. That guy has some unresolved animosity issues.

  “Good riddens,” Stephen muttered under his garlicy breath before dividing the group into companies. He ordered Brock to crowd into a pick-up truck with Salem and three other men. Brock observed as other people were divided into groups and placed in different vehicles. He didn’t ask any questions; he was just going to go with the flow. This job had to work out — it just had to.

  Salem fired up the truck and began sputtering down a dirt road. A rowdy looking guy with long green and purple striped hair looked at Brock and said, “This is going to be the hardest job you’ve ever worked. You’re going to hate it.”

  Before Brock could even think of a response, Salem chimed in, “It sure is better than being in jail though, ain’t it Brandon?”

  “Oh yeah! That’s for sure. I just wish I could get a job anywhere else. Nobody’ll hire me ‘cause of my record.”

  Brock wanted to ask what he had been in jail for, but knew better than to ask something he was sure to later regret. Instead, he sat in silence, hoping their conversation would reveal more information. They sat in the truck for about ten minutes; during that time, Brock quickly figured out he was the only one there who had never been charged with a crime. He was going to be working alongside a drunken thief, a batterer, a drug addict, and a guy who considered himself to be a jack of all crimes.

  When they got out of the truck, Salem took out a clipboard. He said their group had been assigned to strip the leaves from all of the baby pear trees in Section A and there was no time to waste.

  “Follow me,” Salem told Brock before walking him over to an area where none of the other guys were working. “Before you get started, I want you to notice what we have over there,” Salem pointed to a tiny building off in the distance. “That is a one butter bathroom, do you know what that means?”

  “No, Sir. What is that?”

  “It only fits one butt at a time. In other words, I wouldn’t walk all the way over there unless you absolutely have to. And if you do have to go, go quickly to free it up for others.”

  Brock smiled. A one butter bathroom. That was pretty clever terminology.

  “Put your gloves on,” Salem said. “Bend over and wrap both hands around a sapling, like this.” Salem bent down and grabbed the bottom of the sapling and demonstrated what Brock was going to be doing. “Then you take your hands and slide them up the tree; that will shuck all the leaves off. Move to the next sapling and repeat the process. You will continue in this fashion until every tree in this section is stripped bare.”

  It sounded easy enough. Brock bent over and stripped the first sapling. Then a second and a third. After about thirty-five trees, he felt a slight throbbing in his lower back. Realizing it was foolish to continuously bend over to strip the trees; he got down on his knees.

  “Don’t be lazy,” Salem ordered. “Get on your feet, boy.”

  Brock had not been lazy at all. He had just lost one job in this town and was not about to lose another. He didn’t make excuses; he didn’t talk back. He simply got back to his feet, bent over, and stripped another tree. He looked across the field and saw the other men doing the same. He felt like he was on an old cotton plantation somewhere. Never in his life had he ever performed any kind of work that was even remotely comparable to this.

  By lunch time, Brock thought his back was going to snap like a twig. He was thrilled to hear Salem say there would be a change of pace after lunch. A change of pace there was indeed.

  “Janet’s going to come by in a minute with the tractor,” Salem said. “She’s going to drive down this line of saplings we just stripped and the tractor will pull ‘em up by the roots. Bill’s going to follow her with a dump-truck. You’re going to pick up arms full of the saplings and throw them in the bed of the dump-truck.”

  Again, it sounded easy. At least he wouldn’t stay bent over for hours at a time. A moment or so later, Janet came by with the tractor and Brock watched as the trees were uprooted. Other guys started heading out to pick up the saplings and Salem demanded Brock jump right in, “You’re new and if you want to keep your job, you better work twice as hard as these guys who are your seniors. Get to it, boy.”

  Brock hated it when Salem referred to him as “boy,” but he knew better than to say so. He jumped in and picked up an armful of saplings. He walked them around to the back of the dump-truck and was surprised at how high he had to lift the trees before someone in the truck grabbed them from him. Now, instead of being bent double all day, he was going to be bending over, grabbing armfuls of trees, then stretching up as high as he could. This would be repeated over and over again throughout the entire afternoon. Why on earth is this a minimum wage job? he asked himself.

  His back was ready to quit. It felt like it was going to break. Cold chills ran along his spine. Brock was determined to not be a quitter. His back would just have to adjust to this new style of work. He tried to look on the bright side — at least he didn’t have to spend too much time chatting with his ex-convict co-workers.

  ◆◆◆

  By the time Collin arrived to pick him up, Brock was ready for some sh
ut-eye. He couldn’t wait to get in the Jeep and head for home.

  Collin, on the other hand, was in a highly talkative mood. “How did those shoes hold up for you today?” he asked.

  Who obsesses about shoes like this? Brock thought.

  Before he could even reply, Collin continued. “If they’re not comfortable enough, just let us know and we’ll get you a new pair.”

  Brock smiled politely and said, “That’s okay. I’ll save up and buy my own.”

  Collin was glad to hear that. He had a lot more on his mind than shoes. He told Brock that he and Nikki had done some research using Nikki’s smartphone. They found out the name of the boy who had made allegations against Brock — Malachi Crowley. More than that, they discovered that the town where Malachi was assaulted, Harmony, had a history of strange occurrences. Collin told Brock five unusual disappearances had been documented during the ten years prior to Malachi’s report.

  A fifteen-year-old boy had walked home after basketball practice one Friday evening. Around 9 pm that night, his mom called the police to report him as a missing person. Twenty-four hours later, his basketball jersey and one of his shoes was found about a block away from his house. Other than that, there were no traces of him. There were several leads in the case, but none of them panned out. His disappearance was still a mystery.

  A thirty-four-year-old Harmony High School teacher didn’t make it to work one morning. The principal called her house and her cell phone, but got no answer. He called an emergency contact person who went out to her place. He said her car was in the driveway, but she wouldn’t answer the door. The police could find no signs of forced entry, no signs of a struggle, no signs of foul play. Her whereabouts were still unknown.

  A mother was reading to her four-year-old daughter while she was taking a bath when someone rang the doorbell. The mom went to the door, but no one was there. She thought it was just some neighborhood kids playing a prank. When she got back to the bathroom, her toddler was gone. At first, the police suspected the mom was making up the story. However, they could not find any evidence that the mom had committed any crime. No one has ever found any answers as to what happened to her precious baby girl.

  A family had gone camping in the Mighty Oak Wilderness one weekend. A dad took his ten-year-old son to the outhouse — they never returned to the campsite. The mom and their other son were terrified. They checked with neighboring campsites; no one had seen or heard anything. All of the other campers were investigated by police. There were still no answers.

  Brock listened attentively as Collin told him the stories. He didn’t ask any questions or seem surprised at the news he was hearing. He took it casually, almost as if the information he was hearing was coming to him straight out of a novel or as if it was a movie. He didn’t seem to be moved by any of it.

  When they got home, Brock said he didn’t have an appetite. He took a shower and went straight to bed. It could only be assumed he was upset because Collin was moving forward in obtaining information about Malachi. For whatever reason, Brock was not fond of that plan.

  CHAPTER 11 – INEVITABLE WAR

  Once Brock was in bed, Collin cornered Remington. “Did you see the note I left you this morning, boy?”

  “Yes, Sir. I wrote my sentences and scrubbed the toilet this afternoon.”

  “That’s a good start. You do understand that you will remain grounded until everything on the list is done, right?”

  “Yes, Sir,” Remington said. Trying to get on Dad’s good side, he added, “Oh, I almost forgot. I did wash all of my shoes by hand too.”

  Collin looked down at Remington’s feet, “Let me see the soles.”

  Remington raised his right foot into a position so Collin could see the bottom. “Not good enough. Shoes say a lot about a boy. People will pay attention to what you wear. Those shoes need to be clean inside and out. You know better than that, kiddo.”

  After a brief pause, Collin turned to Alayna and began telling her about the information he and Nikki had uncovered.

  Alayna scratched her head, “That’s creepy. Are there still open investigations on any or all of these cases?”

  Collin told her the investigations were all still supposedly open, however they were inactive. There were no leads to be followed up on so the cases were just sitting idle, collecting dust. The longer they sat, the less likely the perpetrator would be to get caught.

  “So, there’s a serial killer on the loose?” Remington asked.

  Collin told him the government has not been able to make an official determination on that — no one had been found dead. Well, that wasn’t completely true. Quite a few people had died in Harmony over the years, but according to the coroner, all of the deaths were explainable. All the state had to go on was missing people and an allegation from one boy who had allegedly escaped a fate of being eaten by a cannibal.

  “When can I meet Malachi?” Remington asked.

  Alayna walked her fingers through Remmy’s hair, “Honey, I don’t think…,” she stopped herself midsentence. “Actually, honey, I think we need to let your dad make that decision.”

  Although Collin appreciated Alayna allowing him to lead the home, he wished she had chosen a better time to do so. Something terrible was going on in Harmony. There was a chance they could run into trouble if they started snooping around. Oh, but his own words started echoing around in his head, “Every member of this family needs to learn to walk by faith and not by sight or by fear.”

  Collin told his wife and son that it was too soon to make that determination. He needed to have some time to talk to God, search the scriptures, and think before making a decision. He would let both of them know what they were going to do as soon as he possibly could. Collin was certain of one thing; he was thankful God was the ultimate leader of the home. He was going to let Him be the decision-maker on this one.

  After dinner, Collin took his Bible and walked outside. He knew exactly where he was going. There was a special place down by the creek where he loved to sit alone and talk with the Lord. It was a private place, only a couple of minutes’ walk from their front door.

  When Collin got there, he immediately felt a peace about him. This was a place he went for no other reason. It was his own personal prayer closet. Getting down on his knees, he whispered a quick prayer, “Sweet Heavenly Father, I need your direction. You know everything about my life. You know what will happen if we take our son over to Harmony. You know what will happen if we don’t. Lord, please show me what to do. I ask this in the name of Jesus, Amen.”

  He opened his eyes and then sat on the creek bank. “God, please guide me to the answer in your Holy Word.”

  Collin briefly closed his eyes again and flipped the Bible open to a random page. The first verse he saw was II Chronicles 32:8a “With him is an arm of flesh; but with us is the LORD our God to help us, and to fight our battles.”

  His body trembled with excitement and relief. God made it as plain as the freckled nose on his face. There was a battle going on; a battle that could either land an innocent man in jail or a battle that could result in a guilty man being free to continue killing. God wanted Collin to lead his family into the battle as a Christian army. God was going to give them the victory. God was going to protect them.

  Collin set his Bible on the ground, stood to his feet, and raised both arms high in the air. He shifted his eyes upward and shouted, “Praise the Lord God Almighty! You are worthy of our praise! You are the best, God! Thank you for answering my prayer so quickly!” Chills began running up and down his spine. A waterfall of joy streamed down his face, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! I love you, God! Thank you for loving me!”

  Picking up his Bible, still sobbing, he ran as fast and as hard as he could back to the house. He burst in the front door and as soon as Alayna saw him, she knew he had had a powerful meeting with the King of Kings. She didn’t even know what God’s answer was, but she began to cry with him.

  “God wants us to go
into battle. Saturday is the big day —” He paused and looked over at his son before continuing, “That is, if Remmy has his work done by then. God has promised to protect us, Hon. We have nothing to fear!”

  Inside, Collin knew good and well that they were going to go investigating Saturday regardless of whether or not Remmy had gotten himself ungrounded. It wasn’t for Remmy’s entertainment — it was for the sake of his family, for the sake of his town, and for the sake of satisfying his own morbid curiosity.

  This time Alayna had no doubt God was in control. She was one hundred percent certain Collin was not making a foolish decision. There was nothing as encouraging as being married to a man wise enough to take important matters like this to the Creator.

  Remington was excited as well. He had always enjoyed reading books about detectives and about solving mysteries. He had always wanted to take part in something like that. Now though, it was more than just a mystery. It was more like an assignment sent from God. He was about to be used of his Maker in a mighty way.

  CHAPTER 12 – THE FIELD TRIP

  In the morning, Brock struggled to get out of bed — his back hurt profusely. Collin had to help him rise to his feet. After swallowing some over-the-counter pain killers, he insisted he was ready to go to work. Their departure signaled it was time for Remmy’s wake-up call.

  Alayna grabbed her pots and pans. “It’s a great day to serve the Lord!” she shouted as she paraded into the master bedroom. Slam! Bang! “It’s a great day to serve the Lord!” Slam! Bang!

  “Okay, Mom! I’m awake!” Remington grumbled.

  After getting dressed and eating breakfast, he headed out the door for school. He was thrilled Friday had finally arrived. Only one more day to wait!

  When he got to school, however, he found it difficult to concentrate. While Miss Aragon was teaching the class about Honest Abe, his mind was occupied by detective work. Remington pictured himself going under cover — he would pretend to be Malachi’s friend, gain his trust, and find out if perhaps he had exaggerated his story. Maybe he had left out some details. Whatever the case, he was certain he could figure it out.