“Relax, ma’am. We’re just waiting for him to finish emptying the box.”
Not a moment later, Jon strolled out of the bank, calm as could be, unaware that two undercover police officers were closing in on him. When he spotted them, he dropped his messenger bag and tried to run, but they cornered him against the wall and handcuffed him. “Jake Hertzler,” she heard the man in the dark suit say. “I’m with the Securities Exchange Commission. You’re under arrest. These officers will read you your rights.”
Jon—or Jake? or whoever he was—looked angry and defeated as he was led to another police car under the efficient armlock of an officer. Jon was a sham, she thought angrily, he was a fraud. His con man’s eyes were as innocent as an altar boy’s. How could she have been so naive? So stupid?!
Brooke felt as if she had stepped outside herself and was watching this whole terrible scene without being a part of it. She heard the police officer read Miranda rights to Jon/Jake. He repeated them to her as he told her to put her hands behind her back and slipped handcuffs around her wrists. “You have the right to remain silent . . .” Everything had turned out in the worst possible way. A terrible emptiness took hold of her.
What have I done? she thought. What have I just gotten myself into?
21
Allen Turner called Rose and said he was on his way to Eagle Hill, to expect him around half past eight. He asked if she could gather the entire family together to hear some important news about Jake Hertzler. “I’ll pick up Geena and bring her along, if that’s all right with you.”
Rose assured him that would be fine.
She sent Sammy to bed early, but Luke was invited to be part of the meeting and it pleased him to be singled out. Naomi and Tobe, Bethany, Mim, Rose, Vera, and Luke all sat at the kitchen table, waiting for Allen Turner to arrive.
The clock was ticking and there was a little whir between each tick. Rose had never noticed that before. The clock ticked on with its new whir, and none of them said anything at all.
Allen Turner arrived at 8:30 on the dot with Geena by his side. He sat down in the chair at the kitchen table where he had first interrogated Tobe, months ago. Rose wasn’t sure what had happened today at the bank, but she had a feeling that this night, finally, there would be closure. A revealing. The revealing.
“We seized the contents of the safety deposit box,” Allen Turner said. “There was over one hundred thousand dollars in cash. Jake Hertzler admitted he had been skimming off the top of Schrock Investments during the two years he worked there. Not enough to be noticed, just enough to feather a nest.” Allen let out a sigh. “That money will be divided up and returned to investors as part of their claims.”
“I’m amazed he confessed to all that,” Rose said.
“There’s a reason,” Tobe said, eyes fixed on Allen Turner. “He wanted to deflect other charges.”
“Yes, Tobe’s right,” Allen said, nodding. “What I wanted to tell you in person was that Jake Hertzler plea-bargained with the state to reduce the charge of homicide to accidental manslaughter.”
“Homicide?” Rose was confused. “I don’t understand.”
“According to Jake’s confession, your husband found him fishing at the lake early one morning. Your husband had figured out the whole picture of what Jake had been doing to Schrock Investments—skimming money from the company, keeping a set of cooked books, faking bank statements. Dean Schrock went to confront him.
“They argued, pushed each other, and Dean Schrock slipped off the dock and fell into the lake. Jake said he thought he would come back to the surface, but he didn’t.”
Tobe leaned forward and jammed a finger on the tabletop. “But what if Jake was lying? What if he pushed Dad in the water? He couldn’t swim well. Jake knew that!”
Allen Turner remained utterly calm. “There’s a large rock near the dock—a diver confirmed as much this afternoon. Because there was no autopsy, we’ll never be able to determine the exact cause of death.”
“So Jake just left him?” Bethany said, eyes glistening with tears. “He just left?”
“He pulled him out of the water and onto the dock.”
“But,” Bethany said, her voice breaking, “how do you know that? How do you know he didn’t push Dad in and leave? Are you just taking his word for it? Because he’s a liar!”
Allen fixed his gaze on Tobe. “Because there was an eyewitness. Wasn’t there, Tobe?”
The entire family snapped their heads in Tobe’s direction, staring at him with wide eyes and dropped jaws.
“Tobe, were you there?” Horror sent Rose’s heart clubbing at the thought of him watching his father drown.
Tobe gave a solemn nod. “I’m the one who found Dad on the dock. I ran to a cottage and asked them to call 911. I stayed with Dad, I tried to do CPR on him, but he never responded.” He rubbed a hand through his hair.
“You did what you could,” Rose said softly. She simply could not speak anymore, didn’t know how he could. She put her hand on his shoulder.
“And I knew it was hopeless,” Tobe continued. “Finally, I ran down the street and called 911 at a phone outside of a convenience store. I waited at the lake until I heard the sirens. But then I slipped away.”
“Why were you there that morning? Did Dad take you with him to talk to Jake?”
“I knew about the cooked books Jake had given to the SEC—knew he was trying to pin those on me—and I wanted to find the real books.” He swallowed and cleared his throat. “I had a hunch they were in his car trunk and knew Jake liked to fish on summer mornings. I parked down the road from the lake, out of sight, planning to get into his car and get out with the ledgers and key. I didn’t realize Dad was with him until I heard them arguing, loudly—you know how sound travels early in the morning on a quiet lake—so I went as close as I could to them without being seen.
“I heard Dad demand the real ledgers—the accurate books—from Jake. He wanted the safety deposit key. Jake denied any wrongdoing and blamed me for the missing money. While they were arguing, I went through Jake’s car. I found the ledgers in the trunk and the safety deposit key in the cup holder. I grabbed them and went back to my car. I was going to show them to Dad later . . . but . . . ,” he tried to finish but his voice was choked, “there was . . .” He had to clear his throat and start again. “There was no later.”
Naomi reached over and put her hand on his forearm, giving him the strength he needed to finish. “During Dad’s funeral, I came back to Eagle Hill, hid the ledgers in the basement, kept the key with me, and took off. I knew it wouldn’t take Jake long to figure out I’d taken the ledgers and the key. I wanted to try to get back to Eagle Hill but not with Jake on my trail. One day, I realized he was following me. I couldn’t think of where else to go, so I ended up at my mother’s nursing home. I panicked . . . and hid the safety deposit key in her room.”
Bethany clapped her cheeks with her hands. “Tobe, did it ever occur to you that hiding something in the room of a schizophrenic woman who believed people were after her might make her even more paranoid?”
He bit his lip. “I didn’t think she had noticed I was hiding something.”
Rose felt something in herself uncoil. “Then . . . Dean didn’t take his own life.”
“No, Mrs. Schrock,” Allen Turner said. “He didn’t. You can rest assured about that.”
“He didn’t take his own life. Thank God,” Rose whispered. “Thank God.” Her vision blurred beneath a wash of unexpected tears and her chest was suddenly choked with feelings—feelings of love and relief and sorrow for Dean. A sob broke from her throat and she covered her face with her hands to gain control. She breathed deeply, wiped tears away from her face, and looked around the table at those she loved so much: Tobe, Bethany, Mim, Luke, resting on Vera. “Did you hear?”
Vera nodded, her eyes shiny with tears. She reached out and grabbed Rose’s hands. “I heard. I always knew, deep down.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Was em aagebore is verli
ert mer net.” What is bred in the bone is never lost.
“How long?” Tobe whispered in a gruff voice. “How long will Jake be in jail?”
“A long, long time,” Allen Turner said. “Brooke Snyder, by the way, was also arrested.”
Vera jerked her head up. “The tall lady in the guest flat? How is she involved?”
“She forged a signature at the bank—yours, in fact, Rose.” Out of his pocket, Allen Turner pulled Rose’s Social Security card and handed it to her. “This Paisley woman was in on it too. She lifted things from Eagle Hill and got them to Jake.”
“What’s going to happen to Brooke Snyder?” Mim said quietly.
“She said she’s willing to testify against Jake, so she’ll probably just get her hands slapped. My guess is she’ll be put on probation, but her career in art is over.”
Naomi cleared her throat. “What about Paisley? Are you going to find her?”
Allen Turner shook his head. “No. We don’t need her. She was just a minor player. An opportunist.”
“Do you think she’ll turn up again?”
He shrugged. “I can’t imagine why.”
Naomi and Tobe exchanged a glance, then their eyes traveled to the baby, sound asleep in the Moses basket in the corner of the room.
“If you don’t have any more questions, that’s all I wanted to tell you,” Allen Turner said. “It’s over. It’s finally over.”
“There’s one more thing,” Rose said. “Would you tell Jake something for us? Tell him we forgive him.”
The room went still. Even baby Sarah, who had been starting to stir and make noises, grew quiet.
Allen Turner’s face went blank. “What? You want me to tell him you forgive him? After all that?”
Rose nodded.
“Charges have been filed. That’s not going to change.” Allen pressed his thumbs against his forehead. “I spent twenty months tracking this guy down. It’s not going to stop the due process of the law just because you forgive him.”
“I realize that. I’m not asking for him to be released from the consequences of his actions. But as for our family, we are not harboring any ill will toward him.” She turned to Tobe, but he wouldn’t lift his head to look at her.
Allen Turner tilted his head. “Did you decide that right now? How can you forget what he did? How can you forgive, just like that?” He snapped his fingers to prove his point.
“It wasn’t just like that,” Rose said. “I decided to forgive Jake Hertzler a very long time ago. Forgiving and forgetting are two completely different things.”
“I wish I felt the same way.” Allen Turner glanced at Geena, seated next to him. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest.
“Go ahead and tell them, Allen,” Geena said gently. “They should know.”
Allen shifted uneasily in his chair. “Four years ago, my wife was a professor of accounting at a local college. Jake Hertzler was her student, the most intelligent and capable student she had ever had. Gifted, she called him. Brilliant.” He had to stop and compose himself before going on. His voice got even quieter. “And he was the one who broke up my marriage.”
Hours later, after Naomi, Geena, and Allen had left and the family had gone to bed, Rose took a hot bath, then read for a while in bed, hoping to fall asleep. An hour passed, then another. Still restless, she went downstairs. So much to sift through! Her mind was reeling with the day’s revelations. She lit a kerosene lamp in the living room and sat down to mend a tear in a shirt of Tobe’s, grateful for small, simple acts that were like balm to her soul.
Minutes later, she heard a noise and looked up to see Tobe leaning against the doorjamb, Sarah tucked in his arms with a bottle in her mouth. “Can’t sleep?”
“No. I could take Sarah if you want to get to bed.” No sense in both of them losing sleep.
But he didn’t make any move to pass Sarah to him. “Rose, did you mean it when you said you forgave Jake Hertzler?”
“I meant it. I wanted Jake to know, though I doubt he cares. And it certainly doesn’t mean it’s easy to forget all he did.” She knotted the thread and cut it off with her teeth. “I could tell you weren’t happy with me for asking Allen Turner to let Jake know we forgive him.”
Tobe crossed the room to sit in a chair, unfolded his long legs, and held Sarah up against his shoulder, the way she liked best. “I know you shouldn’t pray for something bad to happen to another human, but I have prayed that Jake Hertzler would get a dose of his own medicine.”
“Don’t be trying to give back pain for pain,” Rose said. “You can’t get even measures in business like that.”
“Don’t you see?” He stared down at his hands. “I’m glad he’ll be in prison for a long time. I want that for him. I want even worse for him. I even feel a little cheated that I wasn’t the one who caught him. I tried. I tried so hard, but he was always two steps ahead of me.”
“But you didn’t cause it. The evil within Jake caused it all. He can’t hurt anyone else. That’s what you need to keep in your mind. He can’t hurt anyone else.” She put the shirt in the basket. “Tobe, you have a new life to live. A wife, a baby to care for. Spending another minute dwelling on the past would be like letting Jake continue to keep hurting you. It’s over, Tobe. It’s all over. Allen Turner said those very words.”
They sat there quietly for a long time, the only sound coming from the hiss of the lamp. Finally, he rose and crossed the room to Rose’s chair. He picked up the shirt she had repaired and examined her tiny stitches. “You’re good at mending things. Shirts. Families too.” He set down the shirt. “I don’t say it enough, Rose, but thank you.” He went upstairs with the baby asleep, her head tucked under his chin, and soon Rose turned out the light and went to bed.
While she was settling into bed, thoughts ran around and around in her head. All the same, she had a sweet, full feeling inside that warmed her, and soon she too slept, and all was silent in the farmhouse at Eagle Hill.
22
Brooke Snyder couldn’t even look her aunt Lois in the eye when she arrived at the jail to bail her out. She sat in her aunt’s car and stared out the window, sullen, sulky, guilty. Aunt Lois didn’t say a word, an anomaly that grew increasingly distressing to Brooke.
“There are two sides to every story,” Brooke finally said.
Aunt Lois sighed. “Yes, we know. His and hers. But then there’s a third side; the truth. And who is to discover it?” She glanced at her. “Why did you do it?” Her eyes were hard and her voice was cold. “How could you do something so . . . deceitful? So obviously illegal?”
“I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.”
Her aunt gave her a look of disdain. “Just like you didn’t mean to sell a forged painting as an original.”
“But I didn’t! I just painted a picture. And yesterday, I just signed a signature. I’m the victim here!”
“Brooke Snyder—you are many things, but you are not a victim.”
Her aunt turned off the freeway and onto the Philadelphia Pike toward Amish country.
Brooke felt a hitch of alarm. “Where are you going?”
“Look in the backseat.”
Brooke turned around to see her oil paints, brushes, canvas, and easel. “Where did you get those?”
“From your apartment.” Aunt Lois turned off the Pike and onto a back road that led to the rolling hills of Amish farms. “It’s time you start seeing yourself through the eyes of God. He didn’t give you the gifts you have for copies and forgeries.”
Brooke sighed. “I am useless.”
“Pish. You’re far from useless. You must use the tools God gave you. Find your tools and put them to use. Good use.” She pulled the car to the side of the road. “Pick a spot. Any place. You choose your subject. It’s high time you become an original.”
Brooke looked at her aunt, with her spiky red hair and determined chin, then at her easel and paints, which she hadn’t touched since she had reproduced the Corot, then out at the s
oft, gentle hills, dotted with cows. “Could you head toward Stoney Ridge? There’s someone I need to see first.”
For the first time all morning, her aunt cracked a smile.
Mim had finished putting fresh sheets on the beds in the guest flat. Two women were coming this afternoon, all the way from Georgia. She thought that might be the farthest distance a guest had traveled to stay at the Inn at Eagle Hill.
She heard a door open and walked into the living room, a pillow tucked under her chin as she struggled to get the case onto it. There, at the door, was Brooke Snyder, the woman who had taken away her newspaper column, merely because she was an ambitious woman.
Mim put the pillow on the small kitchen table. “Is there something you forgot? Or something else you want to take?” She was not rude, but she was very, very cool.
Brooke took a step inside. “I owe you an apology. I stole something from you.”
“Yes, you did . . .” Mim stopped and shook her head. No. She didn’t, she thought. And once thought, it had to be said. “You didn’t steal it. I’m giving it to you.” She picked up the pillow to finish stuffing it in the case. “I hope Mrs. Miracle will help you find what you’re looking for, just like she did for me.”
She turned and went back to the bedroom to fluff the pillow and set it on the bed, ready for the new guests. When she returned to the living room, Brooke Snyder was gone.
The potatoes spattered as they hit the melted butter in the pan and Rose hardly noticed. Her mind was on those new guests who had arrived at the inn this afternoon, stayed ten minutes, and promptly departed. Such an odd pair! They were two cousins, from Georgia, who were going to research their family ancestry.
“Do you have Amish relatives?” Rose asked them.
“No,” the taller one said. “Quakers.”
Rose looked at them, tilting her head. “You realize, of course, that Quakers came from England, started by George Fox. The Amish came from Europe. Their history is completely separate.”
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