by Unknown
They stared at each other. It was all he could do not to just grab her, make love to her, hold her. He loved the stubborn Hannah Esh, always had, and he probably wasn’t going to be able to keep her.
“Be careful going home,” he said. “Be careful wherever you go….”
He turned and headed away. He realized it must sound as if he’d just said goodbye, and he almost wondered if he had.
Late that afternoon, Hannah called Linc on her cell phone and told him she had some information. It turned out he was back from Columbus and at the sheriff’s office in town, so he said he’d be right out. Daad had gone to an elder’s house across the valley, and Mamm was working in her kapp-making shop, but Hannah didn’t want to invite Linc into the house in case Daad came back or Mamm took a break.
She quickly washed up, changed her clothes and went outside to wait. It was cold in the barn. She paced but not to get warm; her frustration with Seth and having to tell Linc what she’d done had heated her up.
When Linc pulled in, she called to him, and he strode toward her. He was dressed in what looked like army combat gear except for a jacket with the FBI script on the front. His olive-green cargo pants looked bulky with so many pockets; any pockets were verboten for her people. He’d gotten a haircut—even shorter than usual, but his ears still looked like they were glued to his head. He whipped off his wraparound sunglasses as he came into the shadows of the barn.
“What happened?” he greeted her, then lifted a quick hand to cup her chin, to tilt her head up to study her face. His eyes went over her, all of her, then he let her go. “Tell me,” he ordered when she hesitated.
“All right. I had an opportunity to overhear Levi Troyer talking to the investors for his grist mill restoration project, four men from Detroit, and I remember what you said about the killers maybe being big moneymen from a city. These men fit the bill. I don’t know how they got their hooks into Levi, but he’s asking them to finance somewhere around a hundred thousand dollars and his land—”
“Yeah, his land backs right up to the graveyard hill. I talked to him early in the investigation but nothing about him seemed suspicious.”
“Well, see, maybe it is. I’ve been praying he’s not really involved with what those men might have done. He’s family now and—”
“Where did you overhear this? Were you visiting your sister?”
“No. I mean—I have visited Naomi. I saw Levi and his sons huddled in conversation at their farm and then he made a phone call.”
“Hannah, where did you overhear this? Did you get any names?”
“I thought you’d have a way of finding that out without telling Levi I was eavesdropping. It was in the mill, where they were looking around. I knew a back way in. Seth was there, too, because he needed to find out if the men were on the up-and-up before he signed a contract—although ordinarily, we don’t have worldly legal contracts among ourselves—about heading up the restoration of the mill.”
Linc took her by the upper arm so hard it hurt, but she didn’t flinch. “Seth took you into that situation and let you eavesdrop?”
“No. They didn’t know he was there, either. We just— We ran into each other.”
He loosed her and smacked both hands on his thighs. He muttered a curse, then another. “Do you want to get yourself killed?”
“So you do think they could be behind everything?”
“I didn’t say that. But if—huge if—these guys have anything to do with the graveyard killings, anything’s possible.”
“I know the mill well. I knew there were lots of holes in the floor and old chutes where I’d be able to hear.” She almost told him how they had to leave the mill in a hurry, but she didn’t want to upset him more.
“I ought to lock you up.”
“Stop sounding like everyone else! Besides, you made a mistake to take me into the corn maze, didn’t you? You understand how desperate someone can get to check something out, no matter the risk.”
“That’s my job, but touché,” he said. She thought he’d translate that for her, but he rushed on. “Yeah, I lost my gun and my head that night. The thing is, you’re screwing things up when you’re supposed to be cooperating and complying with my orders. I need a promise that you will not try again to do my work for me.”
“But I’ve given you a good lead!”
“And I’ll look into it. But how am I going to help you get a great singing career going if your parents—after all you’ve put them through—have to bury you in that cemetery?”
“You’re trying to play on my guilt and scare me.”
“Damn right, I am. Hannah, if these people pan out and their sharp lawyers start taking me—or you—apart in court, this initial info you’ve risked your life for could possibly be thrown out as hearsay or entrapment.”
Hannah gritted her teeth, not just because she might have risked a £havlot for nothing, but because Seth had been right about that. “Then tell me what you’re doing to find the killers,” she said, her voice much too loud and strident.
“Some I can tell you, lots you wouldn’t understand.”
“Don’t fall into the trap of thinking the Amish aren’t intelligent.”
“Oh, honey, I don’t. You want to hear about DNA matching, facial reconstruction? Okay. The bones of the deceased have been X-rayed, measured and photographed to determine height, weight, race and ethnicity by forensic scientists. It’s laborious, detailed and takes a long time. They’ve entered evidence into state and national databases, including the National Crime Information Center database run by the FBI, which has descriptions of thousands of un-ID’d persons whose bodies have been found. But until we ID the three bodies from the graveyard, we can’t do much else.”
“Thousands? That many?” She knew he was trying to shock her by throwing all of that at her, but it did comfort her to know they were working on it. Only, still, not fast enough.
“We do know that the killers were careful, clever professionals,” he went on, “because the three corpses had their fingerprints burned off with some sort of acid. The BCI has an Automated Fingerprint ID system, but that’s out of the picture. The FBI’s National Crime Information Center has gun and missing-persons files, but that hasn’t helped yet. And while all that’s going on, I’m still rattling cages around here to see who turns up as persons of interest.”
“But now you’ll have even more of those.”
“Listen to me, Hannah,” he said, seizing her wrist and pulling her closer. He lowered his voice. “You’re a person of interest to me and not because I suspect you of foul play. I want to protect you and help you after all this is over. Maybe with a singing career, maybe in other ways that I can’t get into now.”
“Well, later then, because you can turn your feelings off and on like tap water!” she accused, realizing too late her voice was sharp, almost goading.
To her amazement, he put his other hand behind her neck to hold her still and dipped his head to kiss her. Quick. Once. Hard. It happened so fast that she had no time to react.
“You drive me nuts in more ways than one,” he said, frowning, completely back in control as he released her and stepped back. “Call me if anything else comes up, but quit looking for trouble or you’re going to find it. Here’s the deal—your illegal breaking and entering at the mill never happened. That kiss never happened. Stay the hell home and away from Seth Lantz until I get this taken care of.”
She was sure she had a hundred retorts, but nothing came to her as he stalked away. Funny thing, too. Her head was spinning, but only with what he’d said about his investigation. Her lips tingled, but her heart did not.
CR!FAQVHAE2713SQDF4PGQ1SC7ZMJ68
20
THE NEXT MORNING, IN THE VERY PLACE THAT Linc had warned Hannah to stay out of his business, she found a chance to take care of some business of her own. As she went out to harness Nettie, Daad was in the barn, putting the bridle on his buggy horse. Finally, she thought, she could learn more about
the night she was shot.
“How’s working for Mrs. Stutzman at her B and B going?” he asked. “She’s Mennonite, but her parents were Amish. She left before she was baptized, other side of Wooster, so she wasn’t shunned—just like you.”
Hannah decided to ignore the just like you. He still hadn’t gotten over that she’d left her family for the world. “She’s been very kind, her brother, too,” she said only.
“Ya, good sausage from his meat market. And the Plain and Fancy’s a good place for you to work for now, my plain Amish but fancy worldly daughter.”
There was an edge to each thing he said, but she tried to just stay conversational, keep heading toward what she wanted to ask. “A nice enough job until my wrist heals, but Ray-Lynn Logan has offered to train me to help her manage the Dutch Farm Table if I stay.”
“If you stay …” he echoed, but did not finish that thought. “That job you would like more, but Mrs. Logan is not so good an influence on you. A nice lady, but modern and worldly.”
“Ray-Lynn loves the Home Valley and its people!”
They looked at each other over the backs of their horses. Now or never, she thought. She had to risk changing the subject before he finished harnessing and was on his way.
“Daad, I’m still trying to sort through what happened the night of the shooting. Mamm mentioned you were outside that night, looking for a coyote.”
“I told Agent Armstrong that, too. I told him the coyote must have moved on because we never saw it again.”
“But did you hear the shots from the graveyard? I know when we hear hunters those sounds carry pretty far in the valley.”
He frowned, as if trying to recall—or was he upset with her for bringing that up? He had told the congregation that God’s justice would be served and they must go on with their lives despite the terrible upheaval surrounding them. He had said they must live in the valley of home and hope, not the valley of the shadow of death.
“Best that night be forgotten, my Hanni. Let worldly men fret over that, but you put it behind and look ahead. God will punish the wrongdoer—probably already has.”
“You mean, ‘Justice is mine, sayeth the Lord’?”
“Ya,” he said as he pulled his horse’s reins into the buggy and got in.
But she couldn’t let it go. “So you didn’t know anything was amiss until you saw the lights of the emergency vehicles and buggied over with Mamm to try to help?”
“Did you not hear what I said about moving on? Agent Armstrong asked all these things. He said to me that you must learn to let him do his work. Now, let it be, so you can heal, body and soul! And me, too!”
Her always steady, calm father’s voice broke. She stood stunned at the anger that suddenly flared from him. Without another look or word, he snapped the reins and pulled out of the barn.
Puzzled and upset, she had barely finished hitching Nettie when she heard a buggy. Daad must be coming back! He felt bad he’d cut her off or meant to tell her something else. She ran to the barn door—just in time to see Seth get down from his buggy with her childhood doll in his hand.
“I was hoping to catch you before you left for work,” he said, noticing her. He strode over, though he stopped a good six feet away. “I felt I should give this back. I took it from Marlena when she was asleep. She’s upset, but I made her a horse on wheels she can pull by a string, so she’s distracted for now.” Stiff armed, he extended the doll toward her.
“No, I want her to have it. Fathers and daughters—best to be friends.” Her voice caught and she blinked back tears as she darted a glance at her father’s buggy disappearing down the road.
“You and the bishop …” he started to say, but cut himself off. “I don’t mean to pry into your personal affairs anymore. You obviously want a break between us, so I will honor that.”
“I don’t know what I want! Other than to have Kevin’s murder solved, find out who defiled those graves, get peace back in the valley, in our families. And I know I want Marlena to have my doll. Please, keep that for her.”
She yearned to throw herself into his arms. She knew from the past that being away from him would not ease the agony she’d lived with since they’d stood at the pond that terrible night and he’d told her he was going to marry Lena.
For a moment, she thought he would not take the doll back, but he did, cradling it in one arm as if it were a living thing. The silence stretched between them. She wanted to say so much, but what came out was, “Are you going to take the Troyer job offer for Josh and Naomi’s house and the mill restoration?”
“Their house, ya. The mill—I’m not sure. I haven’t seen Levi since what we overheard. John Arrowroot sent me word this morning that he’d like his garage roof done, too. It won’t take long, but I need to measure it for shingles. I’m going up there now to see him and better get going. For Marlena, danki for the lumba babba. For me, I still meant everything I said yesterday, but until I hear from you, I’ll stay away.”
He turned and strode for his buggy.
She wanted to call after him, even run to him. But she only stood in the ba«toorn door and waved, though he didn’t look back.
When Arrowroot didn’t come out to greet him, Seth went to the garage to get the ladder and climbed up on the roof. He knew this garage like the back of his hand now: a few basic tools, a ladder and those aerial photos of the valley and graveyard tacked on the walls. None of that was enough to charge him with anything. Seth no longer believed Arrowroot had slit Hannah’s screen and left the eagle feather—it just didn’t seem something he’d do. Linc had questioned the man again and come up with—as he put it—”diddly-squat,” so Seth planned to abandon his earlier suspicions and keep out of the case. And keep out of Hannah’s life.
He paced off the roof area to get an estimate. Pretty much what he’d thought. At least, since Arrowroot wanted this roof done, too, it must mean he approved of the job on the house. And the money had been really welcome until he got that down payment from Levi Troyer for the newlyweds’ house. Of course, he’d see Naomi quite a lot while he built it. Maybe Hannah would come to see it, too….
Ach. He had to stop thinking about her.
The November wind was biting today, so he hustled. He recorded the measurements, climbed down and put the ladder back in the garage. While he’d been up and down his own ladder during the roofing of the house, he’d been able to peer into a window or two, but had mostly seen his own reflection. Though he’d used the bathroom by the back door, Arrowroot had always been close by so, other than a glance in his kitchen, Seth had given up on spying on the man. Given up on a lot lately.
But he was puzzled now. Arrowroot had sent him a note telling him to be here at this time. Why didn’t he come out? Maybe he was on the phone. Seth scribbled his calculations down—amount of shingles, cost per bundle, his labor costs—and went up on the front porch. He knocked on the door.
No answer. No sound.
“Mr. Arrowroot! Seth Lantz here!”
He knocked again, then tried the door. Locked. He walked the length of the porch, shading his eyes to look in the front windows. He couldn’t see around the large painting of the eagle feather very well, but not a thing inside looked disturbed.
He walked around to the back door. It, too, was locked. But the man’s truck was in the garage, so he had to be here. Seth looked in the back kitchen windows and knocked on one. No sound but the cawing of crows in the bare trees as if they were arguing. What if Arrowroot had had a heart attack or had fallen and knocked himself out?
Seth did a quick search in typical places to hide a key. Under doormat, flowerpot, ledge above the window—yes!
He unlocked the back door and called, “John Arrowroot! It’s Seth.”
He felt it now, an icy shiver up his spine, the sense that something was very wrong. He closed the door behind himself and put the key on the butcher block wood counter. After a quick peek into the small half bath, he hurried down a short hall into the living/d
ining area. He opened two closet door«wo s, then pounded up the stairs, not trying to be careful anymore.
The first room was obviously an office. Drawings of Native Americans, including one of Arrowroot in Indian garb, covered the walls. The closet was full of extra filing cabinets. Next the bathroom, empty: he hadn’t fallen in the shower. Next, his bedroom. Indian designs and one wall painted bloodred, with real arrows and feathers mounted on it—eagle feathers, of course—in some intricate, probably sacred design.
And—in the middle of the bed—a big eagle feather, which looked identical to the one stuck in Hannah’s window, along with a piece of paper with the word Guilty circled on it. Next to that lay a handgun and a rifle.
Seth backed from the room, ignoring the phone on the bedside table, and nearly tripped on the stairs going down. He grabbed the key, ran outside and relocked the door. Arrowroot had to be somewhere in that house, didn’t he? He’d never leave such damning evidence for someone to see if he was going to flee. And flee how, with his truck still here?
Rather than go back inside to use Arrowroot’s phone to call 9-1-1—and get his fingerprints on it—Seth decided to get Linc Armstrong and the sheriff without leaving the property. Until help came, he’d act as the men he’d watched at the graveyard, cordoning off and guarding a possible crime scene. Maybe he’d been wrong about Arrowroot; maybe that was the rifle that shot the goths.
He grabbed his pencil and pad and scribbled a note to the sheriff, who would probably be a lot easier to find than Agent Armstrong. Seth ran down to the road and waited for a buggy to come by—even knew the family, who were going to town. He gave them the note, then ran back up the hill and, from a stand of trees where he could see the front and back doors, hunkered down to wait.
“Thanks for seeing me so early for this cut and color,” Ray-Lynn told Clair Kenton. Clair was a cute blonde who still teased her own hair into a bubble. That went to show how well Homestead’s hairdresser kept up with the outside world. The woman was friendly and talkative but not the sharpest knife in the drawer. “I’ll be back in the restaurant before the lunch rush, so thanks for working me in,” Ray-Lynn told her.
