“Maybe not. Maybe you’re helping more than you’ll ever know.”
“I doubt that.” Even as he said the words, Luke wanted to cringe. He wasn’t the type of man to whine like this. Or to give up easily.
But he was the type of man who dealt with realities. And the reality was that he was destined to remain a fish out of water. The majority of his experience was on the city streets and alleys of Cincinnati. He was used to informers and snitches and a whole team of forensic specialists to appear at a moment’s notice. Driving around the hills and valleys and woods in the county, talking with Englischers who rarely talked to their Amish neighbors or to the Amish who were so entrenched in their farms, families, and community that they weren’t aware of other’s gossip was difficult at best.
And while he didn’t mind a difficult investigation, he did mind failing.
“I appreciate your honesty. I do for sure,” Mose replied, sounding much like the Amish man he’d grown up as. “But I promise you this, I wouldn’t have asked you here if I didn’t think it would help, Luke.” Mose didn’t wait for an answer as they increased their pace, crossing the street and heading toward the veterans memorial. When they stopped in front of a trio of crosses, he spoke again. “I still believe that it will.”
“You sure you want to bet on that? I’m costing you time.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. Besides, if you don’t help me, what else are you going to do while you recuperate? Sit in front of the TV and watch Sports Center?”
Luke had no doubt that his friend had used the TV reference on purpose. Back at the academy when they were roommates, they’d watched endless hours of Sports Center when their bodies were too tired to take another step and their minds were too tired to study another law, citation, or procedure.
Mose had only been two years out of his Amish community, and still had an almost whimsical appreciation for all things ESPN. He’d grown as attached to Sports Center as any preschooler with Dora the Explorer. In a way, the two of them had bonded while watching it.
Luke was just about to tell Mose that not even that reminder could soften his stance when nearby a pair of teenagers opened a truck’s back cab, and stealthily pulled out a couple of six-packs of beer and not very discretely stuffed them under their hoodies. The high school’s name was proudly printed on those sweatshirts, practically beckoning any and all law-enforcement officers to crack down on underage drinking.
Seeing the kids act so foolishly—and knowing he could do something about it—almost gave Luke a rush of pleasure. “Guess we could go take care of some business, huh?”
A slow smile lit Mose’s face while they watched yet another two kids scurry out of the truck, one with what looked to be a full bottle of Kentucky bourbon nestled in his arms like a baby. “Your leg up for it? This could get squirrely.”
He patted his brace. “I’m up for it, no problem.”
“Then I’d be obliged.” Raising his voice, Mose called out, “Boys, you want to tell me what in the Sam Hill you’re doing?”
Luke groaned as the kids started running. “Somehow, I figured they’d do that. I got the one on the right.”
“You’re only taking one?”
“I’m good, but I’m injured.”
“Oh, fine.” As they all took off, Mose called out, “Jeremy? Is that you?”
A pause, then a hoarse, squeaky reply floated through the air. “Yes, sir.”
Some things never changed, Luke thought to himself as he picked up his pace and grabbed the boy on the right. “Don’t even think about tackling me, son,” he said as clearly as possible. “If you make me be on crutches again, you’ll be arrested for assault on a police officer.”
Only later, after the boys had been taken to the police station, parents had been summoned, and more than a little fear had been put into a pair of fifteen-year-olds, did Mose bring up Perry again.
“I know he was dealing, Luke,” Mose said, his voice heavy with certainty. “I know he was dealing, and he was making a whole lot of people in this community miserable while he was selling that poison to them. I want to know what he was doing, and I want to know who thought they were justified in killing him. Someone was really angry. Someone was angry enough to kill the kid and stuff him in a well. I want to know who did it, Luke. I want to know it enough to risk everything.”
He paused, then looked at Luke directly. “I want to know these answers so badly that I’m willing to tell you I can’t do it alone. Please, don’t go.”
It was the “please” that did it. Mose had been raised Amish, and therefore came across as naturally self-effacing. But he was also a talented professional. He wasn’t the kind of man to show weakness, especially not in his career.
His friend needed him, and he believed in him. For the moment, that was enough. “I’ll go visit with his parents tomorrow. Again.”
“That sounds like a fine idea,” Mose murmured. “That sounds like a real good idea. I’m obliged, Luke.”
“Don’t be grateful yet; I haven’t done anything.”
“But you will. I’m certain of it.”
Luke replied the only way he could. He punched the guy lightly in the shoulder.
Chapter 11
“Perry was a dear boy. When he was eight, there was none better.”
BETH ANNE BORNTRAGER
Lydia, can you help those customers near the annuals?”
“Sure, Mamm,” Lydia replied. After waving her brother Reuben over to help with the register, she hurried to the back of the property. In a corner, right next to a pond with a waterfall that hadn’t been easy for her father and Reuben to build, was their flowering plants and low-level shrub area.
In between each row of plants were neat gravel-lined paths. They connected to each other in a mishmash way, reminding Lydia of a crossword puzzle. The area was one of their busiest areas in the spring, both with customers wanting to purchase plants and for visitors. Many in the county claimed their nursery and garden was one of the prettiest in the area.
As she approached, Lydia noticed that there were several groups of Englischers standing around in clumps. Lydia looked at each, wondering which ones were waiting for her to come help them. As she approached, though, none were looking in her direction with an expectant look.
Feeling slightly confused by the summons, she wandered down another aisle, her gaze darting left and right. Then she stopped and a lump formed in her throat as she saw a tall man with wheat-colored hair, a pair of worn, faded jeans and heavy tan boots. “Walker?” she blurted before she could catch herself.
Walker looked just as taken aback as she. “Lydia.” After meeting her gaze for an instant, he turned away. “Hey, we, I mean my mom . . . she . . . needs some flowers.”
“Way to make me feel good, Walker,” a petite redheaded lady said by his side. “You couldn’t sound any less interested.” Her teasing tone deflected her snippy words.
And made Lydia grin. “I don’t know many men who care all that much for flowers,” she said. “So I guess maybe Walker ain’t alone in that.”
The woman’s smile broadened. “Walker, do you know this smart girl?”
“Yeah. I mean, yes.” Somewhat clumsily, he performed the introductions. “Mom, this is Lydia Plank. Lydia, this is my Mom, Chrissy Anderson.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Lydia said. Now that the introductions were out of the way, she jumped to business. “If you are here looking for plants, I’d say you came to the right place. I’d be pleased to help you.”
“I’m looking for some spring flowers that will do well in the sun. A couple of flats.”
“Geraniums and vincas will do nicely.” Guiding them forward, she showed them some of the fresh red and bright pink blooms. “These are all easy to take care of as well.”
“Perfect. We’ll take four flats of each.”
Walker groaned. “Mom, I’m going to be planting flowers all weekend.”
“Abby will help you.” With a wink at Lydia, Mrs
. Anderson grinned slyly. “Maybe.”
Lydia was intrigued by Mrs. Anderson’s humor. She liked how playful she was with Walker. Especially since his mother’s banter seemed to transform him from a confident boy to one far less assured. “I’ll fill out a slip for your order,” she said easily, “then help you carry the flowers to your car.”
“I can carry them out, Lydia,” Walker said. “Don’t trouble yourself. You’re in a dress.”
“I’m always in a dress,” she said with a laugh. “Besides, it’s no trouble. It’s my job, jah?”
Though Walker looked embarrassed, his mother appeared charmed. “Well, now. Aren’t you a sweet thing? Yes dear, please go help Walker while I look at the apple trees you have in the back.” And with that, she darted away, leaving the two of them alone.
After his mother was out of sight, Walker cleared his throat but still didn’t look all that relaxed. “Here we are, together again.”
“Jah. I’ll go help you with the flats, then. Follow me, if you please.”
He followed her toward the back. After she put four flats of vincas on a cart, he set the same amount of geraniums next to them. “Should we take them to the register now?”
“No. I’ll remember what your mother ordered. There’s no need to carry them up there.” Feeling that he was standing too close, she waved a hand. “You lead the way and I’ll follow with the cart to your car.”
He stepped forward, then turned and looked at her, his expression sheepish. “I feel a little weird, letting you do this.”
“You shouldn’t. It’s my job. I do it all the time.”
But for some reason, it didn’t look like her comment made him any happier. “Let’s go, Walker,” she prodded. “I’ve got much to do today.”
“All right.” He led the way to the parking lot. On the first row was a tan-colored vehicle. After unlocking the back hatch, he helped her set the plants in the trunk. When the sleeve of her dress brushed against his arm, they both acted like they didn’t notice. When he reached around her to pull the hatch down, she pretended she didn’t feel a sudden burst of awareness or smell the tangy scent of his cologne.
Then they returned to the inside of the greenhouse. “Do you still want to meet me this afternoon?” he asked.
“Jah. I mean, yes.”
His eyes warmed, making her realize that she had spoken quickly. Really quickly. “I mean, I scheduled time off work,” she added.
“Do you work a lot?”
“Almost every day.” When his brows rose, she explained. “It’s my family’s shop, you know. We all must work together to keep it running. It’s a big place.”
“Do you ever wish you didn’t have to work so much? I mean now?”
“Now that I know I’m not really a Plank?” The question hit her hard, though it came from her own worst fears.
He held up his hands. “You said that, not me. I was thinking that it would be hard, with you mourning Perry and all.”
“Sorry.” Shaking her head, she said, “I guess I can’t help but jump to conclusions sometimes. . . .” She paused.
He prodded. “And?”
“And? And now that we’re talking about things, I have to say that I’m glad I’m still working some. It keeps me from thinking about things too much. And well, now I can kind of see the humor in it all. Everything that’s happened is surely beyond my greatest imaginings.”
“If you can laugh, maybe it means you’re feeling better.”
“Perhaps.” She shrugged. “I don’t know. All I do know is that I’ve always liked working outside, even if I sometimes wish for more free time. Or if my dress gets dirty,” she couldn’t resist adding.
He laughed. “I deserved that.” He shifted, stuffing his hands in his back pockets. “I guess I’m trying to tell you that I’m glad you’re okay.”
What could she say? Sometimes she did wish she was doing anything but waiting on customers, up to her elbows in dirt. Of course, sometimes she wished that she had gone to high school . . . or perhaps chosen a different path in life instead of living the way her mother had. Especially now. But all that the doubts had gotten her were sleepless nights.
She’d learned years ago to stop wishing for things that could never happen.
Yet another legacy of Perry, she supposed. When he’d begun to change, it had felt like his memory had gone missing, too. He pretended that they’d never talked about a future together.
He’d forgotten her likes and dislikes.
Or more to the point, he hadn’t cared. Truly, Perry had taught her that promises sometimes meant nothing. He taught her that sometimes people did things on purpose, just to hurt.
Yes, he’d done that very well.
“Walker, are you ever going to join me over here?” his mother called out. “We’ve got other things to do today.”
“Sure, Mom. I’ll see you later, Lydia. At the park.”
“I’ll be there.” She met his gaze with a smile before turning away and joining her brother at the cash register.
After the Andersons left, her mother walked up. “That is the same boy who came over.”
“Yes. I told you we were friends.”
“How do you know him?”
“Walker?” Lydia considered a few replies, then settled for the truth. “Like I told you, he was a friend of Perry’s, too.”
“You should stay away from him, then.”
“Why?”
“Perry, he was a bad influence.” Her voice turning sharper, she added, “And he had to have learned his bad things from someone. Perhaps it was from Walker.”
“Oh, Mamm. Walker had nothing to do with all that.”
“But still, he is an outsider, Lydia.”
Rarely had her mother sounded so judgmental of an Englischer. “Walker used to work with him at the Schrocks’. You know how picky Mr. Schrock is. If he didn’t think Walker was a good person, he never would have hired him.”
“Even if Mr. Schrock does trust him, Walker is not Amish, Lydia. That is reason enough to stay away from him. You two have nothing in common.”
Lydia felt herself nodding before what she was agreeing to sank in. “Mamm, all Englischers aren’t bad. You know that.”
“True, but their modern influences can be a difficult thing.”
“I’m not about to start telling you I want a cell phone.”
“There’s other things to worry about besides telephones. I’m sure that boy is far too worldly for you to keep company with. He would surely take advantage of you. You need to be careful around men. Why even Perry made bad choices.”
Even Perry?
Suddenly, it was all too much. Her being adopted, her mixed-up feelings about Perry and his death, the investigation.
And now Walker was in her life, making her feel things she had carefully tamped down after Perry had pushed her . . .
In a flash, she remembered the feel of Perry’s mouth on her neck. His fingers on the collar of her dress, the weight of him when he’d leaned over her on the floor . . .
And just like that, she wasn’t okay at all.
“Mamm, I thought I was okay, but maybe I need some more time off from the nursery.” Before her mother could start questioning her, she said, “ There’s so much going on. I need a break from all the stress.”
“Plants aren’t stressful.”
Oh, she was deliberately misunderstanding. Deliberately ignoring the truth. “You know what I mean, muddah. I want some time off. I need some time to think about everything. To process it all. I don’t know who I am anymore.”
“You are Lydia Plank. You are Amish. That it all you need to know.”
That was the problem, she was starting to realize. For most of her life, she’d never thought twice about who she was or what she wanted. She had assumed that she’d join the church one day, marry, and follow in her mother’s footsteps. Now, however, she wasn’t so sure that was the path God meant for her to follow.
And if that wasn’t the path
meant for her . . . ? She couldn’t even begin to imagine what He had in mind.
Chapter 12
“There’s a place down by Crooked Creek that is the perfect hiding spot. Perry told me he once stood there for hours and not a single person saw him.”
WALKER ANDERSON
Walker looked up when Lydia approached. “You came,” he said.
Why was he surprised? Did he not trust her? “I told you I would.”
“Still, things come up.” He shrugged.
“Things do.” She smiled. “All morning, it felt like everything that could have gone wrong did.”
“Murphy’s Law.”
“I’m not sure what law that is, but I feared I wasn’t going to be able to get here.”
“But you did.”
“I did.” She lifted her chin. Feeling somewhat proud of herself. She looked around at the windy trail, at the children’s playground equipment. At the soccer field. “Where would you like to go?”
“How about we just go to the swings for now?”
She walked by his side, walking with him, but still staying just enough apart that if an observer saw them together, he would think they just happened to be going in the same direction.
Taking hold of the swing’s chains, she sat down on the rubber seat with a sigh, leaned back, then pushed herself off with her feet.
Suddenly, the air whooshed around her, sweeping across her skin, cooling her cheeks. Beside her, Walker did the same. “I haven’t swung in ages.”
“Me neither.” He flashed a smile. “When was the last time you were on a swing set?”
“Years ago.” She tried to recall a single event, but all the memories floated together and meshed in her brain. “One time me and Reuben came here when we were dodging chores.”
“You, Lydia? I would have never guessed.”
“Why is that?”
“You always seem so contained. So perfect.”
Remembering all the things she’d done over the years, she shook her head. “I promise, I’ve never been perfect.”
“Me neither.” He pumped his legs a bit and sailed higher and higher. “The last time I was here was when I was dating Jessica.”
Missing with Bonus Material: The Secrets of Crittenden County, Book One Page 9
