Seeking Sanctuary, page 1
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Copyright © 2022 by J. W. Judge
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. Published in the United States by Scarlet Oak Press, Birmingham, Alabama, in 2021. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without prior written consent of the publisher.
For permissions and information about special discounts for bulk purchases, contact Scarlet Oak Press at contact@scarletoakpress.com.
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ISBN: 978-1-954974-02-9 (Paperback)
ISBN: 978-1-954974-01-2 (eBook)
ISBN: 978-1-954974-03-6 (Hard Cover)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2021921883
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Published by Scarlet Oak Press (scarletoakpress.com)
Contents
Preface
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Author’s Note
About the Author
Genesis 6:1-7
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And it came to pass, when men began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born unto them, that the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose.
And the Lord said, My spirit shall not always strive with man, for that he also is flesh: yet his days shall be an hundred and twenty years.
The Nephilim were on the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came in unto the daughters of men, and they bare children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown.
And God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. And it repented the Lord that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart. And the Lord said, I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth; both man, and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air; for it repenteth me that I have made them.
1
Agatha
German meteorologists weren’t any better than their American counterparts. Agatha was glad she had worn her rain jacket. A twenty percent chance of rain had escalated into a deluge. She had only made it as far as Haus St. Franziskus, not even two kilometers from the house, when the skies opened up and emptied their contents on her.
So much for getting her steps in today. Back in Alabama, she would have just kept walking. Rain was pretty tolerable when it was still eighty degrees after the sun had gone down. But not here. She was lucky if the temperatures in Hornberg stayed in the sixties on her evening walks. On a night like this one, it would get down into the forties, and she might just catch her death while being soaked to the bone.
Agatha sighed and turned around. She considered waiting out the rain shower under the little barbecue pavilion nearby, but the deluge gave no indications of letting up. Instead, she took the trail that ran through the woods parallel to the train tracks, rather than continue on Rebberg and risk getting hit by a car that didn’t see her. She would be a muddy mess when she got back home, but at least she’d be in one piece.
The train from Gutach rattled away somewhere on her right, impervious to and indifferent about the downpour.
She knew the trail well enough that she could nearly have walked it with her eyes closed, which she might as well have done for all the light there was. There’d have been no light at all, if it weren’t for the town’s lights reflecting off the low cloud cover and giving everything a ghostly glow.
The trail quickly gained elevation as she hiked, giving her an overview of the Gutach Valley that she never tired of. It hadn’t taken her long to learn to love this town that nestled in a crook between mountains. Her heart had immediately recognized it as the home that it would become, and in a sense, had always been.
The goats across the road below her voiced their complaints about the weather. I hear you, guys. Agatha tightened the drawstrings on the hood of her jacket to keep rain from intruding.
She’d no more gotten herself situated against further trespass than the rain let up. By the time she got down to where her trail intersected with Äussere Rebberge atop the train tunnel, she let down her hood, and the moon was pushing its light through the remaining wisps of clouds.
Agatha stopped at the top of the tunnel and looked to the north, trying to discern the likelihood of getting caught in another cloudburst if she extended her walk. She moved to take a step to the left when the squishing sound in her boot brought attention to how wet her feet were. A shortcut through the trees and down to Rebbergstrasse was the most direct route home and likely her best decision.
Before she moved away from the tunnel’s edge, a final cloud shuffled away, revealing a dark bulk huddled below her against the western wall of the tunnel exit. It could have been any number of things. A couple of trash bags sitting beside each other. A discarded rug. Agatha tried to think of other things it might have been, but wasn’t. She knew what it was.
Agatha looked southward over her shoulder. No train was approaching. She shuffled along the embankment from the top of the tunnel down to the tracks.
“Hello?” she called to the jumbled mass. Realizing she’d spoken in English, Agatha called out in German. It wouldn’t make any difference. Corpses couldn’t hear. But she had to be sure.
Agatha crossed the first set of tracks. “Do you need help?”
Although the body’s back was to her, she made out long hair. A bare leg protruded from the torn black dress.
Agatha made several false starts toward the body, conflicted between providing help or calling for it. Her protective nature won out. She stepped over the second set of tracks and squatted at the woman’s head, listening for breath sounds. Nothing.
She grabbed the woman’s shoulder and rolled her onto her back. Agatha stepped back in surprise, and an involuntary “Oh” escaped her.
The rip in the woman’s dress extended up to its neckline, leaving her naked and exposed. There appeared to be something carved into her chest. It was too dark to make out. Agatha raised her right arm and produced an orb of molten lava. She grew it to the size of a grapefruit and suspended it above the dead woman.
The carving was a symbol she had seen before, though she couldn’t quite place it. It looked like a six-pedaled flower with a circle around it.
Agatha tapped the screen of her watch, causing it to light up. She touched the screen several more times until a phone started ringing on the other end.
“Guten abend. Polizeidirektor Fischer.”
“Markus, it’s Agatha. Listen, I was out on a walk and found a body. It’s a woman. Down by the train tunnel just north of town. Rebberg Tunnel. I don’t think she’s been here long.”
“Okay. I’ll be right there. Are you safe?”
Agatha hadn’t considered her own safety. She looked to the north and saw nothing along the tracks. Everything was blacks and grays. Immediately to the south was the tunnel. She flung her orb into it to disperse the darkness. A couple of rats scurried away from the fire that hissed at the wet gravel.
“Agatha?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“I’ll be there soon. Don’t touch anything.”
“Ja, got it.”
She punched the red button on her watch to end the call. She stepped back from the dead woman and inspected her from a distance. Her face was battered, and there was a thin red line around her throat.
Agatha produced another ball of light and directed it in a spiral that grew wider with each orbit. She looked for anything that might be out of place but didn’t find anything. Still, Markus’s question about her safety lingered. She extinguished her fires and waited under the tunnel, confident that she was its only non-rodent occupant. The darkness would conceal her if anyone returned before the police arrived.
With her back against the cool tunnel wall, Agatha realized she was going to be much later getting home than expected. She had told Gertrude she would stop by on her way home. If she made her mother wait, the woman would barrage her with a flurry of concerned messages. She wrote, “Be there in a bit. Got caught in the rain. Meeting up with some friends for a bite.” She would have added, “Don’t wait up,” but Gertrude was the same night owl now that she had always been.
She didn’t bother sending Thomas a message. It wouldn’t occur to him that she wasn’t there unless he ran out of food and paused his game long enough to go hunting for her. The odds against either of those things happening were fairly low.
When Agatha heard voices approaching, she pressed herse lf against the wall, all but disappearing into the darkness. They were getting closer, scampering down the hill to the tracks.
“There’s the body, but where is Frau Wande?” an unfamiliar voice asked.
She pushed away from the wall. The men looked her direction, perceiving movement among the shadows. She walked out from under the tunnel.
“Gentlemen,” she greeted.
“Hallo,” Fischer answered, “This is Detective Pereira. He’s going to assist in the investigation. In fact, Miguel, why don’t you get started and I’ll join you when you complete your first pass over the scene?”
Fischer stepped backward, stopping between the two sets of tracks and motioning for Agatha to follow him.
They watched as Pereira made movements with his arms that looked as if he were washing the windows of a car in slow motion. Agatha watched with curiosity.
“He can emit and see light in the ultraviolet spectrum. Think of him as a human black light. It allows him to see fluids on the body and other evidence we can’t easily identify.”
“Sounds like a useful skill.”
“Undoubtedly. He is my most valuable detective for a variety of reasons.”
Pereira was thorough. He waved his hands over the body and over every surface within ten feet of it. He reminded Agatha of a hunting dog that had caught a scent.
After completing his initial search, Pereira rejoined Agatha and Fischer. “There are no footprints to speak of. The only ones I identified appear to belong to Frau Wande. I did not find any evidence of ….” He paused, looking at Agatha and uncertain whether to proceed.
“Go on,” Fischer prompted.
“No evidence of semen. We will need to collect DNA samples from her clothes and from under her nails as well. She fought.”
Pereira paused, thinking through his mental notes.
Fischer asked, “If there are no other footprints, how did she get here?”
Pereira pointed at the wall above the body. “There is blood spatter on the retaining wall. It is possible she was thrown from the train.”
“Geez,” Agatha said.
“Do we know when the last train ran?” Fischer asked.
“It came through right before the rain stopped,” Agatha recalled.
Fischer advised, “We need to pull the schedule.”
Pereira looked at his watch. “It will have already stopped at Neiderwasser. It is likely that the perpetrator would have disembarked there, or perhaps Triberg.”
Fischer said, “Agatha, it’s not necessary for you to stay. We are going to be here for some time, and others are on their way to help photograph and collect the evidence.”
“You know how to reach me if you need anything else, Polizeidirektor.”
“Call me Markus, please.”
She touched his hand lightly. Pereira had looked away and was occupying himself with the crime scene.
“Not while you’re on the job, Polizeidirektor.”
“Would you like me to have someone escort you home?”
One corner of her mouth turned up in a half-smile. “I can handle myself. Thank you for the offer.”
“Of course. I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise.”
“I know you didn’t, Polizeidirektor. See you tomorrow?”
He looked toward Pereira to see if he was paying them any mind. “Perhaps we should push it back a couple of days. I may still be dealing with this. It’s rather uncommon for us to have a murder here. It’s been … I don’t know, several years at least.”
“Fair enough,” she said. “Gute nacht then.”
He nodded and joined Pereira, who pointed and began talking.
2
Thomas
Thomas regarded Luka with some uncertainty. He admired Luka’s lack of inhibitions and willingness to jump headfirst into shenanigans. Thomas, meanwhile, was plagued with doubts and consideration for consequences.
“What’s wrong, Thomas? Are you das huhn?” Luka began clucking, bobbing his head back and forth, and flapping his arms that he’d folded in like wings. The universal accusation of cowardice.
Thomas didn’t want to get dared into a contest that would devolve into something else, but he couldn’t let that stand. Not in front of Emma, anyway.
“Fine,” said Thomas. “I’ll play your game.”
The problem with Luka’s games was that they always escalated. Every game of catch turned into a contest. Every bit of horseplay became a wrestling match. And whatever this started as, Luka was sure to raise the stakes to it as well.
Never one to be left out, Finn said, “I’m in, too.”
“Good, good.” Luka grinned at the participants. “Here are the rules. In the first round, you choose a rock and try to get closest to the middle of the knot on that fir tree.”
“That seems easy enough,” said Finn.
“See, Thomas? Easy,” Luka teased him. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. Emma and Lea can judge.”
“Umm, no,” said Lea. “This isn’t a boy’s club. I will be winning this competition.”
“Very well,” Luka conceded. “Emma, will you be our judge?”
Before Emma could answer, Finn said, “I’m not sure she’s all that impartial.”
Thomas and Emma blushed deeply.
Thomas punched him in the arm. “Shut up.”
“Oh, are we not talking about this yet? Move along, folks, nothing to see here.”
Thomas and Emma let their eyes catch each other before darting away.
He didn’t even know what this was yet. Or if it would even become anything at all. He’d like it to. She seemed to like him, too. But he was pretty sure that as fragile as it seemed right now, it could be smashed to bits by Finn prodding at it.
Thomas was ready to redirect things. “Alright, let’s get to it.”
They walked down to the river to pick out their rocks. Each scoured the banks for the best fit. Despite the temperature rising above eighty degrees, the water coming down from the mountains was still frigid. Thomas found what he was looking for and plunged his hand in. The rock was the size and shape of an oyster and about half an inch thick. It had been worn smooth over the years and should be perfect for throwing.
After the other three picked out their rocks, each going with a different size and shape, they trekked back to their spot about ten meters from their target.
“Any takers to go first?” Luka offered.
Thomas volunteered. There was less pressure in going first. Those who came after tended to overthink their throws. They tried to aim more than just to pitch it.
He turned sideways to the tree and raised his left leg as he went into the motion of a pitcher throwing from the stretch. Thomas let his stone fly. It clanked off the upper lip of the knot that was the size of a small plate. If he’d been David, the Israelite army would have been in real trouble with the stone bouncing harmlessly off Goliath’s helmet, rather than lodging in his head.
“What was that?!” Finn was incredulous.
“What was what?”
“That thing you just did. The way you threw it.”
Thomas was surprised. “Have you never seen baseball? That’s how a pitcher throws it.”
“I sure hope the pitchers are more accurate than that,” Lea said.
“Whoa! Who knew Lea was a trash talker?” said Luka. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Fine,” Lea said, stalking up to the spot Thomas had occupied.
She took a more traditional approach to her throw, stepping forward with her left foot and throwing with her right hand. The triangular rock she chose embedded itself in the inner half of the knot.
