A Plain Disappearance

by Amanda Flower

  I scanned the car parts one last time because I knew Chief Rose would never allow me to snoop in the barn after she arrived. I gasped and stared at one of the mirrors.

  Timothy touched my arm. “Chloe, what is it?”

  Silver duct tape covered every inch of it except for the mirror itself. The duct taping had been a careful job, free of bumps or creases. Only one mechanic in Knox County, perhaps in the entire state of Ohio, used duct tape as a fix-all for automobiles and everything else: Uncle Billy from Uncle Billy’s Budget Autos.

  “What is it?” Timothy asked a second time.

  I pulled a smaller tarp off of another crate, dozens of new shiny rolls of duct tape inside. “Duct tape.”

  Timothy picked up the duct-taped mirror. “It could just mean that this is Billy’s stuff. It doesn’t mean he has anything to do with . . . with Katie outside.” He set it back inside of the crate.

  Although Timothy made sense, something told me that Billy might have a larger role in this than either of us wanted to believe.

  The noise outside grew louder now. I followed Timothy out of the barn as three snowmobiles pulled up about twenty yards from Sparky and the sleigh. The horse whinnied and kicked the ground as if to complain about the noise. Mabel was less discreet and barked at the intruders. The chief and her officers cut their engines.

  Timothy grabbed Mabel by the collar and pulled her back toward the sleigh and agitated horse.

  Chief Rose removed her helmet and her short poodle curls sprang perfectly into place. Had I removed my stocking cap, my straight hair would have stuck up in all directions as if I had been electrocuted. She hopped off her snowmobile and set the helmet on the seat, the other two officers following suit. As there were only three Appleseed Creek police officers, our discovery brought out the entire department.

  Chief Rose stomped over to me, her peculiar peridot-colored eyes flashing. “For crying out loud, Humphrey, can’t I even have Christmas off?”

  I gave her a weak smile. “I guess not.”

  She pointed her thumb at the barn. “Is the body in there? I thought you said it was outside.”

  “It is. It’s behind the farthest corner of the building.”

  She reached into her coat pocket and removed a navy stocking cap, placed it on her head, and pulled it down over her ears. “Then you and Troyer must have a really good reason for being inside of the barn.”

  I buried my hands deep inside my pockets. “We took a look around.”

  “I hope you’re not up to your old tricks, Humphrey.” She watched Timothy as he covered Sparky with a green horse blanket and tucked Mabel back into the sleigh. The dog would be asleep within seconds.

  I tilted my chin. “What tricks are those?”

  “Snooping. I don’t need the extra headache.” She rested her hand on her gun belt. “Did you touch anything in there?”

  “No.” I hadn’t. Timothy had. I knew she would ask him the same question, and he wouldn’t lie.

  Timothy strode over to us.

  A smile spread across the police chief’s face. “So, Troyer, you were taking Humphrey out for an old Amish sleigh ride. How cute.”

  Timothy didn’t rise to the chief’s bait. “Do you want to see where we found her?”

  Chief Rose whistled at the two officers, and they came running. “Riley, you stay here and keep watch.”

  Riley, a middle-aged man with a goatee, snapped his gum. “Watch what? There’s nothing for miles.”

  She narrowed her eyes to forest-green-lined slits. The chief seemed to wear a different color of eyeliner every day. Was the new shade in honor of Christmas?

  Riley snapped his gum. “I’ll stand watch, Chief.”

  She nodded. “Nottingham, come with us.”

  Nottingham knew better than to argue with Chief Rose. He was the youngest of the officers, maybe around my own age of twenty-four.

  I let Timothy lead the way, not eager to see Katie’s body again.

  “Don’t walk in any of the existing tracks,” Chief Rose said.

  “The only tracks here are Timothy’s and mine,” I said.

  She turned her gaze on me. “Humor me.”

  We gave the tracks a wide berth. As we rounded the last corner to where Katie lay, my eyes zeroed in on her blue hand reaching out from the snow drift. The first time I saw it I didn’t know the victim’s name. Now that I knew the potential impact Katie’s death had on the Troyer family, the sight seemed that much more terrible, that much more gruesome. I swallowed, and stopped fifty feet away. “I’ll stay back here.”

  Timothy squeezed my shoulder before he walked on with the two police officers. Despite the distance, I could hear their conversation clearly in the stillness of the winter air.

  Chief Rose crouched a few feet from the body and examined the scene. “Nottingham, take photos.”

  The young officer removed a SLR camera from its case slung over his shoulder. Carefully, he moved around the body. In the silence, the snap-snap of the camera’s shutter sounded like the crack-crack of a handgun.

  “Will the sheriff be coming out?” Timothy asked.

  “Nah.” The police chief straightened her legs to standing. “This is still within Appleseed Creek’s village limits, even if just barely. The Knox County sheriff will be happy to leave this mess in my hands. I’ll give him a heads-up, of course.” She peered at the baseball-bat-sized icicles hanging menacingly from the barn’s eaves. Then she dropped her gaze, removing a collapsible trowel from her utility belt and unfolding it. She inched around Katie’s head and carefully removed snow that surrounded her bonnet.

  I crept closer to them as Chief Rose worked.

  “Nottingham, get a shot of this.” She pointed to a depression in the bonnet’s frame. She continued to dig about Katie’s head and revealed large pieces of ice frozen to the ground and to the girl’s cloak. She looked up again. Then, I saw it—an empty space between the icicles. It stuck out like a missing tooth.

  “Did the icicle kill her?” I asked, feeling oddly hopeful. If Katie’s death was accidental maybe there would be no impact on the Troyers.

  Chief Rose ignored my question. “Nottingham, how long before the coroner arrives?”

  Nottingham pushed up his parka sleeve and checked his watch. “It will be another thirty minutes.”

  She grimaced. “Let’s call it forty-five. He’s always late, even on a good day, and two days before Christmas is not a good day.”

  Christmas. The word struck me like a blow. The Lambright family would be notified that their daughter died close to the holiday. From now on, this day would always hold a bitter taste for them.

  Chief Rose stood. “We might as well record your statements while we wait. Humphrey, you’re up first.” She walked away from the barn out of earshot of Timothy and Nottingham, as the officer continued to snap photos of the barn, the snow, the icicles, and of Katie.

  I worried my lip. Timothy gave me the briefest of nods and his grim smile buoyed me somehow to follow Chief Rose. The necklace he had given me rested against my skin.

  The chief cleared her throat. “I hope you can answer a few questions after you and Troyer stop mooning over each other.”

  Heat rushed to my cheeks. I gritted my teeth, determined not to reply in kind. “Ask away.”

  “Tell me what happened from the beginning. Start by telling me why you were here. With luck, you and Troyer’s stories will match.”

  “They will,” I snapped.

  Mischief glinted in her eyes. “That’s good to hear.”

  I went on to tell her everything that had happened since Timothy and I left his family’s farm with Sparky and the sleigh. When it came to the part of finding the car parts in the barn, I paused.

  Her gaze sharpened. “What is it?”

  I swallowed. “One of the mirrors is covered in silver duct tape. It struck me as odd.” She could draw her own conclusions.

  She understood immediately. “Sounds like I should talk to Uncle Billy.”<
br />
  I shouldn’t be surprised the police chief came to the same conclusion. No doubt she was smart and very good at her job. Little happened in Appleseed Creek that Chief Rose didn’t know about.

  “I know another thing about this case, Humphrey.”

  “What’s that?” I asked, unsure that I wanted to hear the answer.

  She squared her peridot-colored gaze on me. “You are the common denominator in every murder case on my books.”

  I bit the inside of my lip because . . . she was right.

  Chapter Three

  After the coroner and Chief Rose’s officer loaded Katie’s body onto the sled attached to the back of a snowmobile, the chief waved us over to Grandfather Zook’s sleigh. “I have a favor to ask, Troyer.”

  Timothy’s brow shot up.

  “You know the Lambright family, don’t you?” she asked.

  Timothy nodded. “They are my parents’ close neighbors. My sister Ruth is good friends with the youngest daughter in the family.”

  She cocked her head. “What can you tell me about the family?”

  “There are four children, Katie and Anna—Ruth’s friend and the youngest—and two much older stepbrothers. The girls’ mother died six years ago. A year after her death, Jeb Lambright married his new wife, Sally, who was a widow and had the two boys.”

  My brow shot up. I didn’t know this about the family. In fact, the only thing I knew about them was Ruth’s friendship with Anna, who I had met a few times while visiting the Troyer farm.

  The chief noted everything Timothy said, her expression tense, sobering. “I’d like you to come with me to notify the family. I think it would be good if there was someone Amish—or with an Amish connection—along with me.” As if ten years passed in a breath, the police chief aged before our eyes, the heaviness of her duty weighing on her narrow shoulders. “I never know if an Amish family will be willing to talk to me. Perhaps they will be more likely with you along.”

  Timothy nodded. “I’ll go with you.”

  Was this the right decision? The Lambright family would associate him with Katie’s death. They would associate the Troyers with Katie’s death, which meant they would associate Ruth with the death. But I held my tongue.

  “We should arrive there about the same time, so I’ll meet you at your family farm. I need to take the snowmobile back to my cruiser.”

  “I’ll be waiting,” Timothy promised.

  The snowmobiles fired up as Timothy helped me into the sleigh. Hours had passed since he had given me the necklace. The sun hung high in the sky, and rays made the surface of the snow sparkle like the ground was covered by a blanket of diamonds. My breath caught by the beauty of it. How could such a tragic place also be so beautiful at the same time? It wasn’t fair or right.

  Timothy took my hand. “Beauty lives on.”

  I stared at him in surprise. How did he know what I was thinking?

  He smiled. “Every thought travels across your face just like those cute freckles across your nose.”

  Mabel whimpered from her place under the seat. I knew how she felt. The ride back to the Troyer farm was somber, each of us lost in our own thoughts. As much as I wanted to tell Timothy it wasn’t a good idea for him to deliver the terrible news to Katie’s parents, I knew it was no use talking him out of it. In some way he felt responsible for Katie now, just like I did.

  As promised, Chief Rose waited for Timothy at the end of the family’s driveway. She nodded to us from the warmth of her cruiser. Seven-year-old Thomas ran to meet us as Timothy parked the sleigh behind the barn, his bright blue mittens tethered to his black wool coat with a piece of yarn flying behind him like wings. I couldn’t help but smile at the image. Thomas was a mini replica of his older brother with silky white-blond hair and bright blue eyes. All five of the Troyer children had the same light coloring like their mother.

  Thomas’s eyes were the size of tennis balls. “Timothy, why are the police here? Are you going to the pokey?”

  I covered my mouth, knowing that Thomas must have learned this new English slang word from his grandfather. Ever since he learned the word “perp” from Chief Rose in November, Grandfather Zook had peppered me for similar English vernacular. He thought such words were a riot. His son-in-law didn’t find them nearly as amusing.

  Timothy hopped out of the sleigh and tweaked his younger brother on the nose. “I will tell you when I get home. I need to go with Chief Rose for a bit.” He handed Thomas the reins. “Drive Sparky into the barn.”

  “But—”

  “Go on now. Chloe doesn’t know how to drive the horse. She needs your help.”

  The seven-year-old cocked his head. “I’ve been driving Sparky since I was six,” he said proudly. “Chloe, you should really know how to drive a horse by your age.”

  I patted the wooden bench. “Then, why don’t you teach me?”

  He puffed out his chest, scrambled up into the sleigh, and took the reins.

  I placed a hand over his to stop him from flicking the reins, and glanced at Timothy. No doubt, worry etched across my face. “Timothy?”

  He gave me a reassuring nod. “I’ll be fine.” He smacked the side of the sleigh. “Teach her everything I taught you, kinner.” He turned and walked back down the long driveway to Chief Rose and the waiting cruiser.

  I released my hold on Thomas’s hands, and he urged Sparky on. The horse headed straight for the barn.

  Thomas pulled back on the reins, hard. “Sparky, nee. We have to give Chloe a driving lesson.”

  The horse ignored his commands and continued plodding toward the barn. As we rounded the corner of the whitewashed building, a large wagon came into view. Two young Amish men I’d never seen before were loading the wagon with crates of wooden objects fitting them around pieces of Amish-made furniture. The young men looked to be somewhere in their twenties, and they were clean shaven, meaning unmarried. The blond draft horses in front of the wagon kicked the ground, creating a deep rut into the frozen earth.

  Sparky blew hot air through his nose and pulled the sleigh farther away from the wagon as if he had no desire to approach horses twice his size. He stopped a few yards away and shook his bridle. Thomas grumbled at the animal in Pennsylvania Dutch, but the horse refused to take one more step.

  The boy sighed. “Sparky never listens to me.”

  I bumped his shoulder. “It’s not you. Sparky is tired. Timothy and I had him out a lot longer than planned.”

  He examined my face with his sky blue eyes. “Why?”

  Time to change the subject. I gestured toward the wagon. “Who are those two guys over there?”

  Thomas cranked his neck. “Nathan Garner and Caleb King. They buy Amish stuff from Grossdaddi and sell it to Englischers.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “They buy Amish stuff?”

  “Ya.”

  “What stuff?”

  He stood and jumped from the sleigh without answering my question. I followed while Mabel opted to stay put.

  As I approached the wagon, the two young men ignored me. The one on the ground said something to the other in Pennsylvania Dutch. I couldn’t understand the words, but I recognized the sharp, irritated tone. The young man on the wagon shot the other a dirty look. The air temperature dropped several degrees as they glared at each other.

  A middle-aged Amish man with a dark brown beard slowed his pace to match Grandfather Zook, who shuffled forward on his metal braces. The man handed Grandfather Zook an envelope.

  “Danki.” Grandfather Zook said. “Frehlicher Grischtdaag, Levi.” He had wished the man a Merry Christmas.

  “Danki.” Levi replied and switched to English. “Your wares will bring a good price at the warehouse.”

  Grandfather Zook grinned.

  “Let’s go buwe,” he said to the young men, calling them boys. “We have one more stop before heading back to the warehouse.” He pulled up short when he saw me, and then tipped his felt hat. A dimple showed in his right cheek when he smiled. �
��Gude Mariye.”

  “Good morning,” I replied. “I’m Chloe.”

  His dimple grew. “Ya. I thought you might be. Joseph talks about you often.”

  Grandfather Zook took a few more shaky steps onto the uneven frozen ground. I hurried to his side in case he stumbled. “’Course I talk about Chloe. She’s a gut girl.”

  I blushed.

  Nathan and Caleb, although I still didn’t know them apart, finished loading the wagon and secured the gate at the end. The young men climbed into the back and wedged themselves into uncomfortable-looking spots between the hard-edged furniture, but as far away from each other as possible.

  “You will have to forgive my son Nathan and his friend Caleb,” Levi said. “They are in an awful fight over a girl.”

  Grandfather Zook chuckled. “That’s what will always break a friendship in half. Best thing to happen would be for the girl to choose neither.”

  I glanced back at Nathan and Caleb. They mutually scowled at Grandfather Zook’s idea. Now that I knew Nathan was Levi’s son, I could pick him out in the pair. Like his father, he had dark, wavy hair sticking out from under his black felt hat. I couldn’t see Caleb’s hair color under his black stocking cap, but the tightness of the hat made his sharp cheekbones even more pronounced.

  Levi climbed into the driver seat of the wagon. Carefully he backed the blond team away from the barn. Thomas peeked out to watch as Levi masterfully turned the horses to face down the long driveway.

  Thomas tugged on my sleeve and whispered, “I’m going to make Sparky listen to me like that someday.”

  Levi waved as he drove the team away, but Nathan and Caleb ignored us and each other.

  Grandfather Zook shook his head. “Boys are crazy when it comes to their young ladies.”

  I arched an eyebrow at Grandfather Zook. He laughed, which morphed into a dry cough. I supported his elbow. “You shouldn’t be out here in this cold.”

  “Fiddlesticks,” the elderly Amish man said. Yet he allowed me to lead him back into the barn.

  The front corner served as Mr. Troyer’s workshop, and Grandfather Zook eased himself onto a stool. “Thomas, go unhitch Sparky and bring him into his stall.”