Hidden in Plain Sight

by Karen Ann Hopkins

  “Let’s go to the house first. Amish men are usually more tightlipped than the women. I’d like to catch Miriam off guard.”

  John straightened the car and proceeded up the driveway until we reached the white farmhouse on the hill. Clothes were already hung on the line to dry and several women were bent over in the vegetable garden next to the house.

  John put the car in park and shut off the engine. When he reached for the door handle, I stopped him. “I think it might be better if I talked to her alone. A couple of strange men might intimidate her.”

  John frowned and stared at me. “All right. You have ten minutes. See what you can come up with.”

  I rolled my eyes at his proposed time constraint. I’d seen how uncomfortable he’d been around Rebecca, her daughter and the servers at the restaurant. Amish women put him on edge as much as the men bothered me. I glanced at Toby. Nothing seemed to ruffle his feathers. At the moment, he was immersed in reading a book about the Amish he’d picked up in the lobby of our hotel. He didn’t even bother to glance at me as I exited the vehicle.

  A woman with mostly gray hair poking out from beneath her cap straightened up and stared at me. Her burgundy dress flapped around her in the stiff breeze.

  “Hullo! The shop is down below.” She pointed at the building we’d just passed.

  “I didn’t come for furniture. I want to talk to Miriam. Is she available?” I held my breath.

  The woman called over her shoulder in Pennsylvania Dutch and a younger woman looked up. She dropped her digging tool and wiped her hands on the sides of her blue dress. Her hair was the same shade of blonde as mine and several strands stuck out from beneath her cap. Her bright blue eyes were full of curiosity when she approached me.

  “I’m Miriam—may I help you?”

  I glanced at the older woman. She squinted at me and placed her hands on her hips.

  “Can we talk in private?” I met the hard gaze from the woman, who I guessed was Miriam’s mother from the similarity of their features. There was a long, uncomfortable pause before she blew out a full breath.

  “I suppose so.” She turned and said a few words to Miriam before returning to work.

  Miriam directed me toward the house, up the front porch steps and into a rocking chair. She pulled another rocker closer to me. Before she sat down, she tilted her head. “Are you thirsty? I made lemonade this morning.”

  I gazed out at the farm below us. The sun had burned off the mist and the grass sparkled in the light. A few chickens pecked in front of the porch and I heard the squeals of children playing in the back yard. Only on investigations when I questioned Amish women was I offered food and drink. That never happened in the outside world.

  “No, thank you.” I smiled.

  Miriam fidgeted with her fingers in her lap. Freckles spread over her nose, making her appear younger than I knew she was. The slight lines around her eyes and her slender face gave her away. She was attractive, but not any more so than Tonya was. Men were fickle sometimes. Or possibly it was just the idea of wanting what they couldn’t have.

  “Do you know Brent Prowes?” I ventured.

  Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped opened. The expression only lasted an instant before she composed herself, forcing her face back to neutral. “I know of him. He’s one of the Amish drivers.”

  My brow furrowed. “I thought he was a builder.”

  “He used to do that. But now he’s a handyman, doing odd jobs and he drives our people.” The color drained from her cheeks even though she offered me a polite smile. I felt a pang of sympathy for her.

  The last thing I wanted to do was cause Miriam undo trouble by having her mother or one of the other women overhearing our conversation, so I leaned forward and dropped my voice. “I was told you two know each other quite well.” When she began to speak, I raised my hand. “I’m not here to judge. I’m the sheriff from the Blood Rock Amish community in Indiana. I’m working the Buddy Prowes’ murder case with federal marshals.”

  She looked around. When her eyes returned to me, she said slowly, “That was so long ago.”

  “New information came to light and the case has been reopened. No one wants such a brutal crime to go unsolved.”

  “I don’t know how I can help.” Miriam glanced back at the garden. Her mother and the other women were still working, paying no attention to us.

  “We’re trying to paint a picture of what was going on around the time of his murder.” I drew in a quick breath. “It came to our attention that Brent Prowes is infatuated with you. Is that true?”

  Miriam’s face turned pink, and she shushed me with an urgent finger to her mouth. “It’s something we don’t talk about.” She grimaced. “He’s a kind man. I befriended him after his brother’s death. He seemed so lost.” She hurriedly added, “But our relationship was never a romantic one.”

  “How did you even meet him?” I asked, knowing how rare it was for Amish women to interact alone with English men.

  “He drove our people back then, too. There were times when he’d take me to town and we’d talk. He was always around our events, so I saw him often.”

  “Did you have any idea he was sweet on you?”

  She looked away, took a breath and then met my gaze. “He told me. I felt terrible for him. I would never leave my people. We were from different worlds—it wouldn’t have worked out.”

  “But you never married anyone else all these years,” I pointed out.

  She tilted her head. “I can’t say it was because of Brent. I didn’t find a suitor I felt right about until recently.” She grinned and covered her mouth with her hand. “My wedding to Joseph Mast is next week.”

  The sound of the creaking of our rocking chairs was relaxing. Daniel popped into my mind and I worked to stop myself from grinning.

  “When is your wedding ceremony?” Miriam blurted out.

  My heart raced. “What makes you ask that?”

  “Your ring is beautiful. I know something of your customs.” She sat back, looking pleased with herself “On that particular finger, it means you’re spoken for.”

  I exhaled. “He just popped the question a few days ago. It’s all kind of new to me.” I looked down at the ring and twirled it with my thumb. “I usually forget all about the ring—until someone reminds me of it or it catches my eye.”

  “In my people’s eyes, I’m an oddity for marrying so late in life. But for you, it’s rather expected, isn’t it?”

  I chuckled. “I don’t consider us to be old women. Life is a journey. Sometimes we get to the same place at different times.”

  “Well said.” Miriam crossed her hands in her lap. “Are you sure you don’t want some of that lemonade?”

  I caught John staring at us from inside the car and his impatient frown dragged me back to reality. “I’m afraid I don’t have time today.” I met her gaze. “Do you remember Brent saying anything about Buddy’s murder that might help us?”

  She swallowed and closed her eyes. When they opened, they were bright with fear. “Brent used to talk about the Amish—make negative comments about our kind. That was one of the reasons I never gave my heart to him.” She lowered her voice to a whisper and I bent closer to hear. “He said it was because of the Amish his brother was dead. That’s all I remember.”

  I quickly absorbed the information, but was unable to draw a conclusion that would help the case. Although I had a nagging feeling it was all relevant.

  I rose and pulled one of my business cards from my pocket. I handed it to her. “If you remember something else, feel free to call me anytime.”

  She nodded and stared at the card. Her suddenly gloomy appearance gave me the feeling she wanted to say more. I hesitated on the porch.

  “I hope he’s all right—Brent I mean.” She looked up, frowning. “I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

 
; “It’s not your fault you didn’t feel the same way he did. Truth be told, you made a wise choice. Leaving your family and your culture would have made life very difficult for you.” I shrugged. “Men seem to have a hard time getting over their first loves.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t his first love.” She shook her head and her mouth thinned.

  “Who was then?”

  “Samantha Prowes—his brother’s wife.”

  11

  Isaiah Coblenz stared at me over the rim of his glasses, the tool he’d been smoothing the leg of the chair with poised in the air. Seth was only a few yards behind him, working on a second, matching one.

  “I began two businesses—the building one for my oldest son and the furniture making for myself.”

  “But you did outbid Brent Prowes several times after he inherited the building business from his brother?” John asked.

  Isaiah drew in a sharp breath and set the tool down. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Wood chips clung to his graying beard.

  “At the time, I needed the income for my family. Buddy had monopolized the business in the area. When he was gone, I finally had the opportunity to branch out—which I did.” His gaze shifted between John and Toby. “When my son came of age, he took over the business and now it’s his. It’s not my fault Brent couldn’t make a living with what fell into his lap.”

  His harsh tone made me raise my brows. Most of the Amish I’d met were reserved when speaking to outsiders, hiding their true emotions. But not this guy. The way his lips curled when he mentioned Brent’s name made me wonder if he knew the English man had feelings for his daughter. That would make it personal and worth it for the Amish man to destroy the other’s livelihood.

  Shards of light streamed in through the glass windows, revealing dust particles floating in the air. I sniffed and sneezed. Toby pulled a crumpled, yet clean, tissue from his pocket and handed it to me.

  “It sounds like there was some bad blood between you and Brent Prowes.” John scratched his chin. “I’m surprised he’s still driving for the community.”

  Isaiah made a rude snorting noise. “Some others don’t mind who drives them to town, as long as it’s cheaper than the other guy. It’s their decision.”

  John looked at me with wide eyes. He wanted guidance. I cleared my throat, deciding that it was better to be perfectly blunt with this particular Amish man. “Do you have any thoughts about who might have killed Buddy?”

  Isaiah pursed his lips and worked his fingers through his beard. When he found a wood chip, he picked it out and chucked it on the floor. “It’s not for me to judge, but it’s obvious who had the most to gain from his death—Brent Prowes.”

  I swallowed down the knot in my throat and wrote Brent’s name beneath Samantha’s. Now we had two Englishers implicated by Amish people in Buddy’s death. I glanced at Toby. His eyes were darting from the doorway to Seth and back to Isaiah. I got the impression he didn’t like being shut up in the back room with them any more than I did.

  “Did anything happen that you can remember that would make you think it was Brent, besides the fact that he inherited his brother’s business?” John pushed.

  Isaiah waved for Seth to join us. “You worked on the crew. Tell the marshals what you told me.”

  Seth moved forward with the slowness of a man who looked like he wanted to hide under the table.

  “Buddy looked down on his younger brother. He bossed Brent around the same way he did the rest of us. I saw it in his eyes that it upset him.”

  “Earlier when we asked you who you thought committed the crime, you didn’t mention Brent,” John said.

  “That’s because I don’t,” Seth replied.

  It was difficult to gauge the man. He’d moved here from Blood Rock, so I felt I had a little bit of kinship with him. His accent was different than Isaiah’s and the other Lancaster Amish I’d spoken to. He’d grown up with Daniel. And yet, there was something about his manner that made me think he wasn’t being entirely honest. My gut clenched.

  “Do either of you know anyone by the name of Jerimiah Suggs?” I asked.

  “No, I sure don’t,” Isaiah said quickly. He turned to Seth and a look passed between them that I couldn’t read.

  “Maybe Joshua Miller could help them out with that one?” Seth’s words were slow and cautious.

  John and I turned back to Isaiah. I was sure that John was holding his breath the same as I was.

  Isaiah shrugged. “Perhaps.”

  The name tickled my memory until I exclaimed, “Is this the same Joshua Miller who’s moving to Blood Rock?”

  Seth took a deep breath and spoke freely this time. “One and the same. You might want to ask him about Jerimiah Suggs.” He bent over and resumed work on the chair.

  My mind swirled with the freaky coincidence that I’d already met Joshua Miller, trying desperately to pull anything from my memories of the man, other than his good looks and confident demeanor.

  John cleared his throat, looking away from Seth, who had abruptly stopped talking to us. When he faced Isaiah, the gray bearded man was waiting. “Do you know anyone else from the community who may have worked with Buddy?”

  Isaiah’s mouth curved downward and his eyes lifted as he thought. “I remember one other young man. He wasn’t from around here.”

  “Do you recall his name?” John asked.

  Isaiah swiveled to Seth and clucked his tongue. “Do you recall the fellow I’m talking about? He was tall and dark haired. I thought you and Lester Lapp were friendly with him.”

  Seth shook his head, remaining silent.

  My eyes narrowed on him, catching the twitch at the corner of his mouth.

  “Oh, yes!” Isaiah exclaimed. “Danny Bach was his name. He was an outsider, but he seemed to know our customs fairly well—even took to the language quickly.”

  John scribbled the name down on his pad.

  My heart pounded in my chest so loudly I worried the others could hear it. The blood drained from my head, making me see purple dots.

  The physical description of the mystery man, and his similar name were too much to be a coincidence.

  Danny Bach could be no other than Daniel Bachman, my fiancé.

  12

  I tapped the eraser end of the pencil on the desk as I stared at Bobby Humphrey, Blood Rock’s coroner and my go-to guy on ethical issues. He fumbled through the stack of files on his lap, searching for one in particular. He stopped and looked up.

  “What has that pencil done to you—or are you trying to drive me into an early grave with that incessant tapping noise?” he growled.

  I chewed on my bottom lip and thudded my head against the back of my chair. Bobby set the files down and softened his tone. “What’s wrong, Serenity?”

  I’d known Bobby since I was a kid in pigtails. Sometimes it was weird being his boss.

  I stood up, crossed the room and peeked into the hallway. The coast was clear. The department was unusually quiet. Normally, I would have been relieved, but today, the lack of anything to do made my mental state even more fragile. I seriously needed a distraction—I even would have welcomed a visit from the former sheriff, Tony Manning.

  I closed the door and passed by Bobby and his arched brows. I sat back down, leaned across my desk and rested my chin on my hands. “In all the years you’ve been in law enforcement—” I sucked in a breath “—have you ever found out something about a person who was close to you, something they had kept secret, something that might implicate them in a serious crime?”

  He ran his fingers over his mustache. “Is this hypothetical or have you found yourself deceived by a friend?”

  Bobby had the knack of turning questions around. I grunted. “Bobby, this is important. Have you dealt with a situation like that before?”

  He scratched his head. “There’s been a co
uple of times in my career when I protected a friend from the law, but their crimes were more of an embarrassment to their families, and they weren’t a danger to society.” He set his files on my desk and inched his chair closer. “Does this have to do with the marshals and their investigation?”

  I nodded in a distracted way, looking out the window. With the sun shining and birds chirping, it would have been a lovely day if my world wasn’t crashing down around me.

  “John and Toby had a meeting to attend at their regional headquarters. They wanted to have their people analyze some of the evidence from the original investigation and do research on the new information we came up with.”

  “Do they…have enough to make an arrest?” Bobby asked.

  I snorted. “No. They have several suspects.” I pointed to my fingers as I spoke. “There’s the ex-wife. She’s an attorney now and seems like a nice lady, but she’s hiding something. I can tell. Then there’s the younger brother. The vic treated him badly, didn’t appreciate him—the list goes on and on. He had the most motive, as he inherited the family business and had a crush on his former sister-in-law. There’s also a quiet Amish man, who doesn’t seem capable of hurting a fly, let alone shooting a man, and then bludgeoning him to death. But my gut’s telling me he has a secret. The Lancaster Amish gave us two more names. One is an Amish guy who’s moving to Blood Rock as we speak. There isn’t any glaring red flag with him, but he’s keeping company with some odd fellows. The final name to pop up was someone who worked with the victim for a short time—another person who kept his relationship with Buddy a secret…” I swallowed. “And took on an alias while he was working in Lancaster.” I shuddered and took a deep breath. “My biggest problem is I have no sympathy at all for Buddy Prowes. From all the interviews we’ve conducted, he was a violent, hateful man. There was probably a line of people who wanted to kill him.”

  “And your heart isn’t in this one, is that right?” Bobby asked.