“Yeah, right.”
“I don’t know what God had planned, but I feel certain that if you had told, Perry might have lashed out at you. It seems to me he was in a pretty desperate state of mind before he went missing. And believe me, you aren’t the only person in the county to think that Perry had jumped the fence and left on his own accord.”
Slowly Walker stared at him. “Yeah?”
There was such hope and wonder in the boy’s voice that Luke was tempted to smile. Instead, he nodded slowly. “Yeah. I didn’t know Perry Borntrager, but I know dealers and theives and addicts. That path is a dangerous one, and once a person is sliding down that path, everything that’s right and wrong gets skewed and twisted. I’m not saying that holding back information was the right thing to do. But I will say that I don’t think you alone could have changed the direction of Perry’s life.”
Walker blinked hard, then grabbed the glass and drank half the tea. When he visibly calmed himself, he looked back his way. “What happens now?”
“Now? I’ll keep digging. And you . . . you relax for a bit. When I need more information, I’ll find you.”
“And in the meantime?”
“In the meantime, live your life, Walker. You’re a good man.” Luke stood up then, grabbed his plastic cup of tea, and walked to his truck.
Nothing was settled. Nothing was solved.
But he was finally getting a clearer picture; people were finally talking to him, and he had a few ideas of who he was going to interview next.
It wasn’t a lot, but it was something. And right that moment, it was enough to raise his hopes that Perry’s murderer would be brought to justice.
Chapter 26
“The first time I met Perry, he was trying to put four or five squirming, yowling kittens in a cage Mr. Schrock had put out. Customers were everywhere; a couple of them complaining about something.
I stood there, frozen.
“Here. Take two, English,” he’d said with a grin, thrusting a pair of the hissing cats at me. “No way am I going to do this job by myself.”
See, that’s kind of how Perry had been. He was at his best when things weren’t going good. It was only when things were quiet that he seemed uneasy.”
WALKER ANDERSON
Go on home, Walker Anderson. You look like you’ve been run over by an ornery ox. I’m thinking you need to relax a bit.”
“Thanks, Mr. Schrock.” Walker felt like something far bigger than an ox had run him over. The way he was feeling, it seemed the damage had been caused by something more along the lines of a Mack truck. “I’ll be back tomorrow, early.”
“You come when you’re supposed to. No earlier.”
“Yes, sir.”
He took the long way home. He needed time to compose himself before he saw anyone in his family. The way he was now, his mom was going to take one look at him and begin a monster interrogation.
He drove by the high school, drove by a group of shops and the library. Thought about how for most of his life, he’d taken the town for granted. Nothing much had ever changed.
Then, it seemed, all at once, everything had changed. Now Miller’s field wasn’t just the Millers’ anymore, it was where Perry’s body had been hidden. And Schrock’s store just wasn’t where he worked—it was the place where they’d all ignored Perry the day before he went missing.
Though he hated to think about it, his mind drifted back to that night. He’d stopped by Schrock’s to say hi to Jacob, and to get an idea if Mr. Schrock would maybe hire him again. Jacob had been standing out on the front porch, chatting with Lydia and Frannie Eicher. Frannie’s friend Beth had been there, too. When he’d arrived, it had almost been like a party . . . everyone was talking about Christmas and discussing plans for New Year’s Eve.
Sitting in one of the rocking chairs next to Lydia, Walker was listening to Jacob tell a story about his father.
They laughed and joked around.
And then Deborah Borntrager showed up. The girls stiffened, but were nice enough to Deborah. But once Perry came out of the shadows, leaning against the railing, the mood changed again.
He looked bad. He’d lost a good thirty pounds, and his skin was broken out, and the glow that was usually a permanent fixture in his eyes was gone.
“Hey,” he said. “Never thought I’d see all of you in one place.”
All of them froze. The girls looked away. Jacob turned his back to Perry. Just like they’d never been friends at all. Suddenly, Walker was the only person facing Perry. “Hey, Perry,” he said. “How are you?”
“I’m screwed, that’s how I am.” He gripped the railing. Almost like he needed the support. Lowering his voice, he slurred, “Hey, Walker, how ’bout I join y’all?” He almost smiled. “We could talk about old times.”
Walker didn’t want Perry anywhere near. “You better not.” Hastily, he came up with a lame excuse. “Mr. Schrock will get mad, you know.”
“Oh. Well, want to go hang out with me? We don’t have to do anything. Just sit.” He waved a hand. “Catch up. I . . . I could use a friend right now. I’m deep in some bad stuff . . .”
“I better not.”
“No? Oh. Oh, yeah. Sure.” He walked off, leaving Deborah.
When he was out of sight, Jacob laughed nervously. Minutes later, Frannie, Beth, and Lydia left, taking Deborah with them.
“Want to get a Coke or something?” Jacob asked.
“Nah . . . I’d better get on home,” he said.
But he hadn’t gone straight home. He’d driven for hours. Thinking about Perry needing a friend.
And thinking about how he’d refused to be one.
Walker shook his head, coming back to the moment. As he drove past the park, he saw her. A long figure, swinging on the old rusty swing set that had seen better days around 1980.
Against his better judgment, he pulled into the parking lot.
Lydia’s head popped up when she spied him. But to his relief, she didn’t run away. Instead, she stayed where she was and looked at him with wide eyes as he walked toward her.
His mind went blank.
And then, when she smiled, everything he wanted to say came rushing forth. Just like it had been on the tip of his tongue all along.
“Lydia, we need to talk.”
“About what?” Her voice sounded hesitant. But her eyes . . . they looked hopeful.
He took that to be a promising sign.
“Us.”
“Oh? What about us?”
He noticed she wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t looking wary or scared, either. No, instead she was kind of looking at him in a whimsical way, like he was telling her a story that she was unexpectedly interested in.
He sat down on the child’s swing two over from her. “I think you were wrong when you said we didn’t belong together.”
“You do?”
“Yep. Lydia, see . . . I think we have a future.”
Her eyes widened. “Really? Even if I’m Amish and you are not?”
“Even so. Though we come from different worlds, I still want to be with you.”
Her mouth dropped open like she was trying to find the perfect words. Finally she said, “Did something happen? I thought we were mad at each other.”
He grinned. “I don’t want to stay mad. Do you?”
She shook her head. “As soon as I cooled down, I wanted to apologize. I should have . . . I mean, you’ve been such a good friend to me.”
He looked at her sideways—afraid to hope that she wanted more. But just as afraid to not tell her what he was thinking. “I want to be more than your good friend, Lydia.”
The seconds that passed while she visibly gathered her courage felt like the longest minutes of his life.
Then finally, she spoke. “I want us to be more than friends, too. All I know is that I like you a lot. I like you, and I like being with you. That’s enough for me.”
“We don’t have to decide anything about our future right now. N
ot if you don’t want to.” Walker gazed at her face. “I think we’ve both learned that it’s important to take it one day at a time.” He smiled. Thought about how brave she was. Thought about how she’d dealt with everything that had been thrown at her lately. She lost a boyfriend, then found out he’d been murdered. Then discovered she was adopted. And now, she was being brave enough to date him. To grow closer. To be his friend.
“But I will let you in on a little secret . . .” He paused. Could he really tell her how he was feeling? If she was being so brave, he should show some courage too. “I’ll have you know that I’ve recently fallen in love myself.”
“Is that right?” One perfect brow lifted. “With anyone I know?” There was a new lift to her voice. A warmth, a surety that he’d heard before.
That tone made him smile, right in tune with the way his pulse was racing. “You know her. You know her very well, as a matter of fact.”
“Oh?”
“Uh-huh. See, she’s a great girl. Really great.”
“Girl?”
“Girl, woman, whatever,” he said over a chuckle. “See, the thing is, she’s not perfect. But she’s pretty much perfect for me.”
“You really think so?”
“Yep.” More softly, he said, “Here’s something else about her. She’s pretty. Really pretty. But what’s more important than that is the way she carries herself. She’s graceful and sweet and strong.” He paused, then looked her way. “Fact is, that Lydia Plank is pretty much the strongest woman I’ve ever met. Before I knew it, I’d fallen in love with her. Full on. Head over heels.”
She turned and looked at him, too. “What are you going to do about that?”
He got to his feet and walked the three steps, even though it felt like three miles. Stopped in front of her. “I thought I’d let her know how I felt. Finally.”
She got to her feet. Her hands looked like they were shaking. Was that the reason she was still gripping the chains of the swing?
“And then?” she murmured.
Carefully, he pulled her hands from the chains and wrapped them securely into his own. Linked their fingers. “And then, after I told Lydia this news, I thought I’d take her hands . . . then pull her closer. Into my arms.” He did just that. Guided her closer. Close enough to notice how luminescent her eyes looked.
“And after that?”
“And after that? I don’t know. I guess I’ll have to stand and wait and see what she thinks about what I have to say.”
She nibbled on her bottom lip. Seemed to think about his words for about two seconds.
Then stared at him and smiled. “Well, here’s what I’m thinking is going to happen—”
“Yeah?”
“It’s just a guess, mind you?”
“What?”
“I have a feeling that when Lydia Plank hears that speech, why, she’s going to loop her hands around your neck”— she paused, doing just that—“and then she’s going to say that she loves you right back.”
His heart felt like it was about to explode. “Do you have any idea if she’s going to maybe kiss me then?”
“You really want to know?”
He nodded. Tongue-tied again.
She flashed a smile before she rose on her tip toes and kissed him, full on the lips, right there in the middle of the park.
In plain view of the parking lot and the street and the group of preschoolers that had just come running over to the jungle gym.
And when they finally stopped in order to catch their breath, Walker held her close.
And he realized that they didn’t have all their troubles figured out right that moment. Perry’s murder was still a mystery. So was their future.
But for now, knowing they had each other, right there, right then . . . well, it was enough.
And if they had love, they didn’t need to know what would happen in the future. All they needed was a desire to tackle it together.
That much he knew to be true.
The Search
Book Two in The Secrets of Crittenden County Series
Available wherever books are sold June 19, 2012
Prologue
December 10
Perry Borntrager was on drugs again.
Frannie Eicher had suspected it when she first spied his glazed expression, then had known it for sure when she heard his slurred words. Now, here she was, alone with him in the outskirts of the Millers’ property. Not a soul knew where she was, or that once again she was meeting him in secret in a place where they weren’t supposed to be at all.
Oh, she was sure he wouldn’t hurt her. Perry wasn’t dangerous. But knowing that they were completely alone, that no one would hear if she cried out for help, was unsettling.
Especially since at the moment Perry wasn’t acting like himself.
The Perry she’d known all her life had been patient. Methodical. A man who was easy to get along with, a steady kind of man.
That was not the case anymore.
“Glad you finally made it.” His voice was snide, clipped.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she said. “I had a terrible time getting out of the inn, everyone wanted ‘just one more thing’.” Frannie smiled sheepishly. Then waited, half hoping he’d take her bait and ask about her cherished bed-and-breakfast.
He didn’t.
“It didn’t matter if you came on time or not. Nothing would change my feelings. I hate it here. I always have.” A low laugh erupted from his chest. “But you knew that, right?” He was walking in a zigzag way. Almost as if he was having trouble placing his feet just so on the uneven ground beneath them.
“You hate being here on the Millers’ farm?” she joked as she struggled to keep up with his awkward pace.
He didn’t realize she was kidding. “Jah,” he said over his shoulder as they approached the abandoned well on the edge of the property. “The Millers’ farm, Marion, Crittenden County. Kentucky . . .” His voice grew louder. More hostile. “What’s the difference, anyway? I hate it all.”
She stopped a few feet away from him—where it was safe—though she reminded herself that he would never hurt her. “If you don’t like it here, what are you going to do?”
“Get away when I can.”
She shouldn’t have been shocked, but she was. “And go where?”
“I don’t know. Anywhere. Someplace else.” Slumping against the stacked rocks that surrounded the top of the well, he looked at her contemptuously. “What about you, Frannie? Don’t you want to get away?” The cold air made his breath appear like little puffs in the sky. It also served as a reminder about how cold she was.
And how much colder their relationship had become.
She felt his gaze skim her whole body, as if he was looking at her from the top of her black bonnet covering her kapp to the toe of her black tennis shoe, and she’d come up wanting. “I’ve never thought about leaving here,” she said hesitantly. “Crittenden County is home. Besides, I just took over the Yellow Bird Inn.” Unable to stop herself, she added, “I refinished the wood floors, you know, and it looks so pretty . . .”
Perry merely stared.
She swallowed. “Um. I . . . I could never leave it.”
“You could never leave it.” His blank stare turned deriding. “That inn ain’t nothing special.”
She’d spent the last month helping two men paint the outside a wonderful, buttery yellow. The yellow color went so much better with the name of the inn than the white and black paint ever did. The Yellow Bird Inn needed yellow paint, surely.
Because it was a special place. And very special to her. “One day it might be.”
He spit on the ground. “It’s not going to make any money. No one comes here unless they have to.”
She fought to keep her expression neutral. As if he hadn’t hurt her feelings. “My aunt seemed to do all right with it. And some people have come to visit and stay.” Lifting her chin, she said, “Why, just the other day an English couple all the wa
y from Indianapolis said they’d tell their church friends about my B&B.”
His voice turned darker. “The only reason the English come here is look at the Amish.”
“They come for the scenery and the greenhouses, too.” She bit her lip. “We are blessed to live in such a pretty place, you know. Why, we are surrounded by trees and hills and valleys.”
He laughed softly. “Frannie, you need to get your head out of the clouds. The English come here to gawk. To take our pictures with their camera phones.” His voice deepened. “You’re not going to make any money, Frannie. You ought to leave that place.”
“And do what?”
His mouth opened, then shut again quickly. As if he was having trouble forming his thoughts.
She waited. As she stood there, her toes began to burn from the cold ground. Her eyes watered from the brisk wind.
And once again she wished Perry would get away from those people who supplied him with the drugs that made him unrecognizable to her . . . to all his friends.
“The guys I’ve been working with, they’ve promised me big things,” Perry finally said, his voice strained tight with emotion. “You . . . you could come with me. If you changed.”
Frannie knew the men he’d been working with were Englischers. Englischers of the worst sort. They weren’t local. They only came to their area with the intent of causing trouble, of encouraging more people to take the drugs Perry was now so fond of.
“I don’t want to change, Perry.” Feeling her way through the conversation, she looked beyond him, looked into the dense, lush woods on the outskirts of the Millers’ property. “I like it here. And I like how I am.”
And though she didn’t want to be prideful, she felt disappointed that he didn’t see her attributes. Most boys had found her light blue eyes and auburn hair pleasing. Most people found her efforts to continue her aunt’s bed-and-breakfast to be commendable.
It was obvious he did not.
“You are stuck in an old boarding house in the middle of a county down on its luck.”
“Perhaps.” She smiled slightly, determined not to let him see how nervous she was becoming. “I guess I’m still the same Frannie I’ve always been.”
Missing with Bonus Material: The Secrets of Crittenden County, Book One Page 21
