Her Amish Protectors

by Janice Kay Johnson

  The easiest to track down, Kyle Crandall owned a well-drilling and service business. Ben had never met him, but hadn’t liked what he’d heard. Crandall was evidently a hard man to work for. Even with jobs scarce around here, employees tended not to stay long.

  A white van ahead of him on the street turned into the parking lot in front of the business. Pulling in next to it, Ben saw Crandall Pump & Well Service emblazoned on the side. The solid, middle-aged man who got out wore a blue shirt with what Ben guessed was the business name embroidered on the pocket. Instead of continuing on in, he waited until Ben reached him.

  “I’m Crandall,” he said tersely. “What can I do for you?”

  “Chief Slater.” Ben held out a hand, reluctantly accepted for a quick shake. “I read your letter to the editor in yesterday’s paper.”

  Crandall’s expression and voice hardened. “And?”

  “You seemed so certain of Ms. Markovic’s guilt, I hoped you could share what you know with me,” Ben said. “Since apparently you’ve uncovered something we haven’t.”

  Angry color tinted leathery skin. “I didn’t say anything that everybody else isn’t, too. I just had the guts to speak out.”

  “Have you ever met Ms. Markovic?”

  Crandall snorted. “You mean, when I was buying some flowery material to sew a new apron?”

  “That’s a no, then?”

  “No, I haven’t. Doesn’t mean I haven’t heard enough,” he snapped.

  “Care to name your sources?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “In other words,” Ben said, as if just reaching a surprising conclusion, “you accused her of a felony offense based on common gossip.”

  The color deepened. “In my experience, that many people aren’t wrong.”

  “That so? What about Nazi Germany? McCarthyism?” Wasting my breath, he thought. He shook his head, losing patience. “I’m here to tell you that investigators, myself included, looked hard at her and are confident that Ms. Markovic was a victim, not a suspect in that crime. Maybe you should have called the department before you jumped to your conclusion.”

  Neither the bull-like stance nor the glare altered. I’m making an enemy here, Ben knew, and didn’t care.

  He dropped all pretense of friendliness. “You’re aware that someone lay in wait for Ms. Markovic Monday evening and shot her.”

  Crandall was smart enough to look a little wary. “I read about it in the Herald.”

  “I need to ask you where you were Monday evening.”

  “What? You’re accusing me?”

  Ben let his eyebrows rise. “Accusing? Of course not. But the opinion you expressed in print of Ms. Markovic was...extreme. I’d go so far as to call it hateful. I’ve been a police officer for a long time, Mr. Crandall. Coincidences make me itchy. You had to have turned in that letter to the editor at the latest on Tuesday. Maybe you wrote it over the weekend, or on Monday. Monday night, someone tried to kill her. The attack had nothing to do with the theft...unless the man who attempted murder was riled into doing so by violent outrage. Which you felt.”

  Oh, yeah, the guy was vibrating with outrage right this minute. Didn’t much like having the tables turned on him.

  “Expressing an opinion is not a crime in this country, last I heard.”

  “No, it is not. Unless that same person took his outrage a step further.”

  “You can’t pin this on me!”

  Ben had long since learned how to sound unemotional but inflexible. “Mr. Crandall, all I’m asking is for your whereabouts at the time in question.”

  His glare felt like standing too close to a bonfire. “I was home, of course! With my wife. Feel free to ask her.”

  “I may do that.” Ben inclined his head. “You have a good day, Mr. Crandall. I would advise you to check your facts in the future before you express an opinion publicly again.”

  He heard sputtering behind him as he walked back to his car and got in. Ben didn’t look at the jackass again as he backed out and drove away.

  Number two: Jay Bradshaw, long-haul trucker.

  * * *

  “YOU ASKED HIM THAT?” Nadia looked at Ben in shock.

  “You heard me.” He took a bite out of his burger, almost enjoying the attention they were drawing.

  The Cozy Home Café was a classic diner—rotating stools lining a long counter, booths with padded, red vinyl–covered benches along three walls and tables filling the remaining space. Ben ate lunch here often, considering it an excellent place to shake hands and exchange a few words with citizens of his town. Keep his finger on the pulse. The good food was a bonus.

  Today, he’d decided to make a statement. His hand had rested lightly on Nadia’s back as they walked in. Fortunately, the corner booth had been empty, allowing him to see the entire restaurant including the entrance. This being the busiest time of day, he was really hoping Dave Rutledge decided to have lunch here today.

  Nadia was still sputtering. “But...you can’t really think either of those men shot me.”

  He shrugged. “Why not? They both expressed rage at your very existence. Could be one of them is just unhinged enough to decide to do something about that.”

  Shivering, she cast a surreptitious peek at the other diners. “You’re scaring me.”

  Ben reached across the table for her hand, enclosing cold fingers in his. “I’m sorry. No, I really don’t think either of them is anything but an intolerant, loudmouth know-it-all with anger management problems. I decided to shake them a little bit, that’s all.”

  “Did it work?”

  His grin probably wasn’t very nice. “Oh, yeah. Especially Bradshaw. He didn’t have even a wife for an alibi. I left him quaking.”

  The set of Nadia’s mouth became prim. “What if one of them complains about you?”

  “I say I had to look at the two of them as suspects, given their open dislike of you.”

  “You shouldn’t have done it.” A smile bloomed. “But thank you.”

  Ben laughed, then nodded at her plate. “Eat.”

  She picked up her BLT, then sneaked another look around. “Is everyone staring because of all the talk about me?”

  “Nope, they’re staring at us. Because the big, bad police chief appears to be romantically involved with that woman they read about in the newspaper.”

  Nadia made an inarticulate sound and dropped her sandwich. “I shouldn’t have come! You could be putting your job at risk.”

  “Nadia.” He held her gaze. “You are not a suspect. Repeat after me. Not a suspect. I have every right to be romantically involved with the beautiful businesswoman who was just the subject of an assault. In fact, I am romantically involved with her.” He paused. “Or so I’d like to think.”

  They stared at each other. No cop should let this happen, but he lost all awareness of the people around them. Only she mattered. What if she said—

  “Yes.” Her smile and those glorious eyes both reflected her tangled feelings, but she hadn’t said no. “Any man willing to sleep in a chair for two nights running and then on a sofa at least two feet too short for him so that he can protect a woman almost has to have romantic feelings for her, doesn’t he?”

  He could feel his heartbeat in a way he usually didn’t. “Well, he’d do it for his sister or mother, but not any other woman. But she has something to say about it, too, you know.”

  This time, she answered with a tremulous smile. “She... I may be a little nervous, but you make me feel things I haven’t in a long time. Or—” Nadia shook her head, deciding not to finish.

  Or ever? Was that what had nearly slipped out? He hoped so. Because she was a first for him, too.

  A cheerful voice intruded. “You need a refill, Chief?” Their waitress poised a coffeepot over his cup.<
br />
  And he hadn’t even seen her coming.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  The waitress smiled at Nadia. “You need anything else, hon?”

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  Once she moved on, Nadia wrinkled her nose at him. “I think we ought to talk about something else.”

  Ben grimaced. “I think so, too.” He’d intended to make a statement by taking her out to lunch, but not the kind of statement he would if he kissed her passionately in front of half the town.

  He didn’t want to discuss his investigation—either of them—here and now, either. He had other stuff going on at work, too, of course, but couldn’t take the chance of being overheard. Family, he decided. That was something two people who’d gone out together could talk about.

  “Your parents know what’s going on?” he asked.

  “More or less.” Nadia didn’t look thrilled with the topic. “The money part, and I did say some people seem to think I must have stolen it. I haven’t told them about the shooting yet.”

  “You think they’d be on the first flight out here if they knew.”

  “Yes, and what could they do? What if they got caught in the cross fire?” She made another face. “Literally.”

  “This isn’t good timing for a visit,” Ben agreed. “Put them off if you can.”

  “I will. If nothing else happens, I might not have to tell them about the shooting.”

  He gave her a quizzical look. “Do you ever plan to go clothes shopping with your mother again? Swimming with anyone in your family?”

  She had refused to wear the sling today, but held her arm carefully to her side and wasn’t using her left hand even to pick up a drink.

  “Oh,” she said after a minute. “Well, crud.”

  Ben laughed, if softly. Apparently Nadia hadn’t given much thought to the recent scar. She was something new to him: a beautiful woman who didn’t seem to waste a lot of thought on her appearance. She kept makeup to a minimum, wore pretty clothes that weren’t obviously trendy, and never posed or paid attention to whether people were looking at her or not. Except right now, of course, when every single person in the place had definitely noticed her.

  Speaking of... “Incoming,” he murmured. He didn’t know the woman, which meant he hadn’t interviewed her post auction. Didn’t mean she wasn’t a former customer who’d turned her back on Nadia.

  But Nadia’s face relaxed and she smiled. “Audrey. Have you gotten started on that Pine Tree quilt?”

  “I managed to get the pieces cut out, and then my daughter’s appendix burst. I have the kids daytimes. Not complaining, but...how do young mothers ever manage to get a thing done?”

  Laughing, Nadia said, “You should know. You had three of your own.”

  The plump woman didn’t look old enough to have grandkids. Her laugh merry, she said, “Too many years ago! I don’t remember.”

  They chatted for another minute, her friendliness extending to Ben, before she excused herself. She’d left her husband waiting by the door, although he’d found someone to talk to, too. She concluded with, “Glad to see you out and about.”

  “I hope your daughter recovers quickly.”

  The happy chuckle trailed behind the woman.

  “A customer,” Ben said.

  “Yes, and really nice. I inherited her from Mrs. Jefferson, so to speak, but Audrey tells me I have a better selection.”

  “Dessert?” Ben asked. “The pies are really good.”

  “I’d better not, but go ahead.” Her lips curved. “I might steal a bite or two from you.”

  Grinning, he lifted a hand to summon the waitress.

  Hearing Nadia’s ringtone sobered him for no good reason.

  She had to twist in her seat to delve into her purse with her right hand. After taking out the phone, she lifted her gaze to Ben, letting him see her apprehension. “It’s the shop phone. Hannah hates making calls.”

  Then she answered with a “Hannah?”

  Eavesdropping, Ben could make out only enough to know that her Amish assistant was agitated. She spoke unusually fluent English, reflecting her exposure to Englischers first at her father’s business and now at Nadia’s. At the moment, her accent had deteriorated, and he caught a few German words thrown in among the English.

  “Yes, I’m with Ben. I’ll come back right away. You shouldn’t have to deal with this. Why don’t you lock the door and turn the sign to Closed?”

  The waitress was bearing down on them. He said quietly, “Just the check, please.”

  Nadia dropped her phone in her purse. Her face was as close to expressionless as she could make it, but he knew her well enough to see the turbulence in her eyes. “I have to go.”

  “I gathered. Let me pay the bill.”

  “I could walk—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  He waited until he’d paid and escorted Nadia out to the car before he asked what was wrong.

  “A demonstration is being staged in front of my shop.” Bitterness edged her voice. “Hannah says they have signs. And it would appear a TV station has sent a reporter and cameraman. They tried to come into the shop, but she shooed them out.”

  “Amish don’t want to be photographed. Anyone local would know that.”

  “But news must come first.” Her clutch on the seat belt revealed white knuckles. “This will never end.”

  Rage had swept him first, but now he felt sick. How could he let her go?

  He braked at the corner, where they could see the scene in front of her shop. Unbelievably enough, eight or nine people blocked the sidewalk, each carrying a sign. And damned if that wasn’t a TV camera.

  The icing on the cake was seeing that bastard Rutledge scribbling in a notebook as he talked to one of the demonstrators.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  NO ONE AMONG the demonstrators had yet noticed Ben’s approaching SUV. “I want to commit mass murder,” he said grimly.

  “You could accidentally swerve onto the sidewalk.” Nadia had never said anything so awful in her life, but she was too mad to care.

  “I can’t tell you how tempted I am.” He rolled his shoulders. “I’ll park in back.”

  “I’ll look cowardly.”

  “Unless Hannah told them, they can’t know whether you’re there or not. Once you have a chance to think about what to say, you can step out front long enough to make a dignified statement. If we go in the front, you’ll be mobbed. I don’t want to take that risk.”

  The alley proved to be empty, no scout for the opposition posted there to yell when he spotted her. Even so, she hurried to the back door, surprised when Ben managed to lock his SUV and get there as fast as she did.

  They slipped in, stopping at the far end of the hall where they could see through the store to one of the large front windows. Hannah came to them, her face pink with dismay, her kapp askew with one tie dangling down her back, one down her ample front.

  “That Allison Edgerton is there. After you were so nice to her! And Jodi Knowles! Ach, understand them I do not!”

  Chest so tight, she didn’t know how to try a breath, Nadia still managed to pat Hannah’s arm. “I’m lucky to have you.”

  Ben kept his hand on Nadia’s lower back. “Are any customers trapped here in the store?” he asked.

  “Only Lucy. Staying out of sight in back, but upset.”

  Seeing Ben’s dark face tighten, Nadia added another layer of dread onto everything she already felt. This was what he’d feared when he tried to order his sister to stay away. How could he help but blame her?

  Not my first worry.

  “Can you see who else is out front?” she asked.

  “Allison’s husband is with her,” Ben said. “Son of a—” He swallowed t
he rest with a glance at Hannah. “I’m surprised they were willing to go so far. Edgerton raises harness horses. He’s got to know the Amish support you. This can’t be good for his business.”

  Nadia craned her neck to see past him. “Did I tell you she confronted me in the grocery store?”

  “No.” His jaw muscles bulged. “It’s mostly women out there.”

  Nadia recognized several more, women who had shopped here and showed off their quilts to her and volunteered to work at the auction. They had to feel betrayed by her to do something like this, but she was shaken again by such ready condemnation.

  “Your father and Jacob were out on the sidewalk, looking to see what’s going on,” Ben commented.

  Riveted on the action, Nadia hadn’t noticed them.

  Nodding, Hannah said, “Daad called, worried, uh-huh. I think he sent Jacob to tell other people.”

  What, and start a counterdemonstration?

  What if the two sides came to blows? Wouldn’t that be a spectacle for the five o’clock news? But no—the Amish believed in turning the other cheek. Any blows would be one-sided.

  Ben turned his broad back to the scene outside, his gaze on her penetrating. “You saw that Rutledge is out there.”

  “Jerk.”

  A smile flickered in his eyes, as if he found her puny insult to be funny. She might have said worse if not for Hannah. She’d never done a lot of swearing, and she restrained even that much out of deference for Hannah and her other Amish friends and customers.

  She took a deep breath. “What should I say?”

  The three of them hastily came up with a brief statement. Nadia closed her eyes, ran through it a couple of times in her head and nodded.

  “I need to get it over with.” She tried to convince herself they’d go away once she’d spoken and then thought, Yeah, right. They’d apologize and slink away? Only if the real thief was caught would any of these people concede they had been wrong, and maybe not even then. And, considering the weeks that had gone by since the money was stolen, Nadia knew it was unrealistic for her to hold on to any hope that would happen.