Suspendered Sentence (An Amish Mystery Book 4)

by Laura Bradford

  With one last glance in Annie’s direction, Claire crossed the street and began walking, her feet well versed in the route that would have her arriving home in just enough time to help her aunt with any last-minute dinner preparations. She knew, from the menu that had been placed on the table at the bottom of the stairs that morning, that pot roast and noodles was the dinner of the day. A childhood favorite of hers, Claire couldn’t wait to get home in time to do a little behind-the-scenes sampling before the platters were brought out to the guests.

  She glanced in the front window of the Heavenly Police Department as she passed and wondered what was going on inside. Had Jakob finished interviewing Mike? Would Mike face charges for abuse of a corpse, as Jakob had mused? And had Jakob been able to steal away a little time to look into the details surrounding the tragic death of his once crush and Ben’s late wife?

  She continued walking, her gait slowing as she reached the building being utilized as Michael O’Neil’s campaign headquarters. This time, the posters that had covered nearly every square inch of window space only four days earlier were gone, their absence giving passersby a ringside seat to a pile of tables that had been dismantled and stacked in a far corner of the room. Next to the tables was a stack of boxes Claire recognized as once housing campaign buttons and pamphlets.

  “You look as blindsided as the rest of us.”

  Startled, she turned to find a familiar face eyeing her from the alleyway next to the campaign headquarters. “Oh. Hi. Tim, right?”

  The twenty-year-old nodded across the box he was holding, his face void of the smile he’d sported the first time they met. “And you’re Claire, right?”

  “Good memory.” She hooked her thumb in the direction of the building. “What’s going on in there? The election is still a month away.”

  “The election might still be a month away, but our candidate is done. From this race or any other race.”

  Not sure how to play the situation, she opted for surprise in the hopes she’d net something of interest. “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Late last night, when most of the volunteers had already gone home, Mike and his dad came in to tell those of us who still remained that it was over.”

  “Did they say why?”

  “Mr. O’Neil didn’t want to give any details. He just wanted to thank us for our time and send us on our way. But Mike was having none of that. He sat us down and told us that he’d likely be going to jail for a while . . . for worrying about his own neck for far too long. He didn’t get into any real specifics, but when a person is talking jail time, they must have done something, you know?”

  Sadly, she did know.

  And so did Zebediah and Waneta Lehman.

  “I know how disappointing this must be, especially in light of how much time you obviously put in on his campaign.”

  Tim shrugged. “It’s like my dad said when I got home last night: ‘Welcome to politics . . . you’d better get used to it.’” He repositioned the box in his arms and used his chin to gesture toward the car parked just on the other side of Claire. “So maybe I’ll see you around on a different campaign sometime.”

  “Yeah, maybe you will.” She continued toward the inn, her own shoulders beginning to droop with a disappointment she couldn’t quite isolate. Sure, she’d always been sensitive to the plight of others, but Mike had committed a crime. The fact that nineteen years had passed didn’t make it okay. Especially when his nearly two-decade-long silence only made things harder on Sadie’s loved ones in the end.

  And if that same underlying secret led someone to take Elizabeth Miller’s life five years later . . .

  She stopped midstep and groaned. Off and on, throughout the afternoon, she’d revisited her conversation with the disgraced candidate. To believe, for fourteen years, that his father had committed murder to protect him had to have been awful. Yet, after hearing about the great lengths to which the elder O’Neil had always gone in order to protect his son’s image, she could understand why Mike had been worried.

  Mumbling under her breath, she continued walking, her thoughts ricocheting between Jakob and Michael, Leroy and Eva, Miriam and Jeremiah, and finally, Howard and Elizabeth . . .

  If Elizabeth had been murdered as Howard suggested, the only reason that made any sense was to keep her from telling the truth. And since her journal gave them every reason to believe she was heading to Zebediah and Waneta’s home to do just that, the only real suspects that still remained were Leroy Beiler and Miriam Hochstetler, now Stoltzfus.

  To murder someone simply to keep them from exposing a secret meant the culprit had to feel as if the fallout from their secret would be tremendous. If they didn’t, why would they risk being caught?

  Because they knew her murder could be passed off as an accident.

  Hence, the hunting connection . . .

  But even as she found herself considering both Leroy and Miriam for a murder no one had any reason to believe was a murder, she found herself hitting on the same repetitive conclusion with each suspect.

  Why kill?

  “Why, indeed?” she mumbled just before the answer livened her tone along with her steps. “Because they still thought they’d committed a crime the first time. Against Sadie . . .”

  A vibration against her hip made her jump and she reached into her jacket pocket to retrieve her phone. A quick check of the caller ID screen led her to a nearby park bench and a break she hadn’t realized she needed.

  “Hi, Jakob.”

  “Did I catch you at the shop? Or the inn?”

  She turned her head to the left to survey the road she’d already traveled, and then to the right to take note of what was still left before she finally leaned back against the bench. “I’d say you caught me just shy of midway.”

  “Pavement?”

  “Nope. The park benches near the end of the cobblestones.”

  “Okay, I know where you are.” A funny sound on the other end of the phone made her guess he was sitting at his desk, head tilted against his own seat back. “So, if I wasn’t nose-deep in reports right now, I might have been able to see you as you walked by the station about two minutes ago?”

  “More like ten or twelve. I got sidetracked by one of Mike O’Neil’s former campaign folks along the way. He was carrying a box out to his car.”

  “I’m not surprised. Mike came in all on his own just before noon. His story matches up with everything we’ve heard from Miriam and Leroy.” A squeak in the background suggested he was changing positions. “And it doesn’t look like he’s going to face any jail time, either.”

  She tightened her grip on her phone as she, too, shifted positions. “Wait a minute. I thought you said he committed a misdemeanor of the second degree when he buried Sadie the way he did.”

  “And he did. Nineteen years ago. But according to the prosecuting attorney, he was free and clear of that charge seventeen years ago.”

  She heard the frustration in his voice and knew it matched her own feelings at that moment. “But no one knew what he did seventeen years ago!”

  “Apparently, that doesn’t matter. Statute of limitations in Pennsylvania starts at the moment the crime is committed. Only certain extenuating circumstances have the ability to change that, and none of those exist in this case.”

  “Wow.”

  “I know. But I still stand by what I said earlier,” Jakob said. “The hell these three have lived with the past nineteen years is at least some punishment. And that’s before the backlash from their family and friends kicks in.”

  “Somehow, that doesn’t really seem like enough, does it?” When he said nothing, she continued on. “Annie came back today. I’m becoming very fond of that young girl.”

  When there was still no response, she pulled the phone from her cheek and checked the connection.

  “Jakob? Are you still there?”

  “Uh . . . yeah . . . can you give me a second? One of my coworkers is in my doorway . . .”

  “Sure.”
She glanced back down the sidewalk toward Mike’s former campaign building and watched as Tim made yet another trip out to his car. This time, he carried three boxes and was followed by a box-holding helper.

  “Okay, so that was my coworker, Doug. He stopped by to let me know there is no file on Elizabeth’s death.”

  She sucked in a breath. “You took what I said seriously?”

  “Why wouldn’t I? You’re a smart woman with great instincts. You’ve more than proven that a time or two over the past seven or so months I’ve known you.”

  She didn’t know what to say so she simply stayed silent. Waiting.

  “But there’s no file, no record of her death in the station.”

  “Why?” she asked, stunned.

  “I don’t know. But I do know some things from Ben. Like the fact that it happened on December fifth, which is important.”

  “Oh?”

  “Hunting is legal in this county from December second until December fourteenth. She was also struck and killed on the outer edges of a piece of land widely known to be used for hunting on the Amish side of town.”

  “I’m surprised to learn the Amish hunt at all. It doesn’t sound like something they’d condone.”

  “The Amish believe in nonresistance, which prevents them from using force against another human being. That’s why they’re so against what I do. But just because they won’t serve in the military or on a police force doesn’t mean they’re shy about using firearms when it comes to putting food on the family’s table.”

  Claire lifted her left shoulder in an effort to block the ever-decreasing evening temperatures from her exposed ear as she continued to concentrate on everything Jakob was saying. “Do all Amish men hunt?”

  “No. And not all of them set aside a portion of their land specifically for hunting, either. In fact, Josiah is the only one I can think of that still does.”

  She pushed off the bench and continued east, Jakob’s voice just as good of a companion for walking purposes as it was for sitting. “I imagine tonight will be another paperwork kind of night, huh?”

  “Probably. But I’ll set it aside for a while to speak to Ben when he gets here.”

  “You asked Ben to stop by the station?”

  “I did. I want to get his read on this notion of Elizabeth’s death being linked to her intentions that day.”

  She shivered harder than the early-evening temperatures called for. “Uh, Jakob? Do you really think that’s wise? I mean, it’s hard enough to think you lost your spouse in such a tragic way as he’s believed these past fourteen years. But to have someone suggest it wasn’t an accident after all this time seems a bit harsh.”

  “Claire, if I was Ben and someone suspected something like this about you, I’d want to know.”

  Her feet transitioned to pavement at the same time his words sank in. “Jakob, I’m not your wife. There’s no way you can compare the two.”

  “It doesn’t mean I can’t imagine myself in his shoes, with you as the woman I lost.”

  She willed herself to breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out . . . When she was steady enough to speak, she took control of the conversation before her mind started traveling through bridal magazines. “And if it turned out to be nothing? And what you’d always believed proved to be right in the end?”

  “Then nothing really changed.”

  Chapter 28

  Claire tried not to think of the smell of her aunt’s famed pot roast as she drove down the driveway and back onto Lighted Way. The pull to stay and sample had been strong, but, in the end, the need to get behind the wheel for a little alone time had been stronger.

  From the moment she’d hung up the phone with Jakob she’d been gripped by an anxiety she hadn’t been able to pinpoint. She’d tried several times to figure it out, but short of little things here and little things there, nothing justified her unease.

  There was no doubt the lack of punishment for Miriam, Leroy, and Michael ate at her insides. It wasn’t that she had a burning desire to see them live out their remaining days in a jail cell, because she really didn’t. Not when she considered the pain and suffering such a sentence would inflict on their family members—people who were no more deserving of pain than Sadie’s parents and siblings. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that they needed some sort of punishment for deciding what a young girl’s family should and shouldn’t know.

  And then there was the whole thing about Elizabeth . . .

  She hated the thought of Jakob tossing a theory like murder into Ben’s lap fourteen years after the fact. Somehow, it seemed almost cruel, like prying open a thinly scabbed wound just to pour a tablespoon of salt inside.

  If the salt was needed, that would be different. But until they knew whether Elizabeth was murdered for sure, she just didn’t think it was worth telling Ben.

  Turning west, she headed through town, the gas lanterns along Lighted Way guiding her past Heavenly Treasures and its neighboring shops. A fine spray of gravel shot up from her tires as she piloted the car onto the road that would wind her through Amish country. Where she was going, she had no idea. She just knew she needed some time away, time to clear her head.

  The road curved every so often as it traversed trees and fields. She turned the steering wheel with each bend and mentally ticked off the Amish farms that she passed. It was a silly thing to do, really, but it had become a routine.

  King.

  Lapp.

  Stoltzfus.

  Lehman.

  Hochstetler.

  Another Lapp.

  Hersh—

  She shifted her foot to the brake as she came around the corner and spied a familiar outfit moving along the edge of the dusk-filled road.

  Annie . . .

  Pushing the button on her door handle, Claire lowered the passenger-side window and pulled to a stop beside the teenager. “Hey, Annie, want a lift the rest of the way?”

  “Yah, I would enjoy that very much.” Annie pulled the car door open and sat in the seat, her smile wide but tired. “Some days that is a very long walk.”

  “Mine is less than half as long and sometimes I’m tired by the time I get home.” She waited as Annie fastened her seat belt before pulling onto the road once again. “Sorry I didn’t come along before you were this close to home.”

  “That is okay. I do not mind. It is still less walking.”

  “That it is,” she said, laughing. She turned the wheel to the right and followed Annie’s driveway as it bumped along between a line of trees.

  A quick gasp from Annie’s side of the car was followed by a hand on Claire’s upper arm. “Could you turn, please? I . . . I should stop at Eva’s house. To check on the baby . . . and the other children, too.”

  Claire stopped the car halfway up the driveway and turned to look at Annie, the girl’s sudden stiffness and lackluster eyes a study in extremes compared to her demeanor less than three minutes earlier. Confused, Claire took in the farmhouse and the single buggy waiting outside. “Is that your father?”

  “No. He is not home yet.”

  “Then who is that man sitting in that buggy?” she asked.

  “The Pest.”

  “Ahhh. Say no more.” She K-turned her way back out of the driveway and turned west again, their new destination little more than a quarter of a mile ahead on the right.

  As they passed the heavily wooded lot that separated Annie’s home from her sister’s, Claire stole a glance in the teenager’s direction. Annie was sitting ramrod straight in her seat with her head turned toward the trees. “I do not know why he cannot stay on his own land. I do not know why he must always come one way or the other.”

  “Who? Leroy’s father?”

  “Yah.”

  “Where does he live?” she asked.

  Annie answered with the point of her finger, the gesture guiding Claire’s focus off her employee and toward the woods. “He lives in the woods?”

  “He has fields, too. But you must fi
rst drive through trees to get to his house.” Shifting her finger left, Annie indicated a narrow gravel lane Claire had never noticed. “I do not know why he has a house when he is always at mine . . . or Eva’s.”

  They drove on, Annie’s body noticeably relaxing as her sister’s driveway grew nearer. “You really don’t like that man, do you?”

  “I try not to have such feelings. I know it is not right. But I cannot help it. He is a mean man. He tries to do Dat’s job but he does not do it well.” Annie’s voice broke off only to pick back up with a shrillness that hinted at impending tears. “Sometimes, I think he forgets that we live in God’s world.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “When I do not tie my kapp strings, I do not answer to Josiah. I answer to God.”

  “But I thought that was how the Amish do things. That shunning or excommunication or whatever is carried out by the Amish themselves.”

  “By everyone, yah. Not by one man,” Annie whispered fiercely. “Josiah judges alone.”

  Claire pulled her right hand from the steering wheel long enough to find and squeeze one of Annie’s. “Let’s not give that man another thought for the rest of the evening, okay?”

  “I will try.” When the car left the main road and turned up Eva’s drive, Annie brightened. “You should come inside, Claire. Eva would like to meet you, and the baby is very sweet.”

  “I’d love to.” Five towheads came running from their various locations around the yard as Claire parked beneath the same tree she had the first time. “I think you should go inside and check though, okay? Just in case your sister is tired or the baby is sleeping.”

  “If the baby is sleeping, he will sleep. That is not a reason to stay outside.”

  She smiled at Annie. “Just check, okay?”

  Annie began to protest but stopped, shrugged, and stepped from the car. “You do not have to stay in the car while I check. That would be silly.”

  “We can’t have that, now, can we?” Claire dropped the car key into her purse and pushed open the door to find five smiling Amish children lined up to greet her. “Well, hello there. It’s very nice to see you all again.” Then, with a concerted effort to put the right name to the right little face, she extended her hand to each and every child from tallest to smallest. “Samuel . . . Mark . . . Joshua . . . Mary . . . and Katie.”