by Debby Giusti
“I could take Mr. Lavy in for questioning, ma’am,” O’Reilly continued, “if you want to press charges.”
“Absolutely not. William wasn’t the problem.”
The deputy nodded. “Then I’ll have a look around.” He glared at Will. “Stay put until I’m done.”
William felt like a kid again. “I’m not going anywhere.”
More rain started to fall as O’Reilly circled the house, his flashlight illuminating the yard and the thick forest behind the house.
Julianne glanced at the dark sky. “You’re getting wet, William. Climb the steps to the porch.”
“I’ll stay here, Jules.”
“You’re mad at me.”
“What?” He didn’t understand her comment. “Why would you say that?”
“Because I called the sheriff’s office.”
“Someone was at your door. I would have been frightened, too.” He glanced at a distant stand of trees. “I chased him across the drive, but when he ran into the woods, I knew it was useless to follow. Plus, I was concerned about you.”
She rubbed her hands together and frowned. “I don’t understand why you came back tonight?”
He shrugged. “Maybe it was the storm or because I was worried about you being alone. Maybe I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”
She stared at him for a long moment and then nodded. “Whatever the reason, I’m grateful, which is something I keep saying. Thank you, William.”
The deputy approached the outbuildings and tugged on the doors of the various buildings. The workshop door hung open. O’Reilly stepped inside. The arc of his flashlight played over the interior of the shop. Eventually, he returned to the house.
“Someone’s been rummaging around in there, Ms. Graber. Have you been in your father’s shop since you returned home?”
“Only tonight. I told you, the man in the mask was waiting in the darkness for me.” She rubbed her hands together. “The sheriff planned to question a vagrant about last night’s attack. Do you know what happened?”
“The man had an alibi.”
“So he’s not in jail?”
“That’s correct.” O’Reilly pointed to the door. “Why don’t you go inside, ma’am. I’ll talk to you in a few minutes. First, I need to get a statement from Mr. Lavy.”
“But I told you, he came here to check on me.”
“Yes, ma’am, I heard you.”
“Would you care for a cup of coffee?” she offered.
“No, ma’am, but don’t let me stop you.”
With a nod, Julie stepped inside and closed the door.
O’Reilly wanted information, especially why William had come back tonight to check on Julianne. What should he tell him? That he couldn’t get Julianne off his mind? The truth was he’d been worried about her safety and had wanted to see her again.
* * *
The deputy had told Julianne to go inside, but as soon as she closed the door behind her, all her pent-up anxiety spilled out with a swell of tears. Refusing to give her emotions free rein, she fisted her hands, then brushed her fingers across her cheeks. Pulling in a deep breath, she hurried to the kitchen to make coffee. Between sniffs, she threw another log into the woodstove, stoked the flames and then boiled water that she poured over the grounds in the drip coffeepot. The hearty smell of the beans filled the kitchen. She reached for a tissue, blew her nose and hurried upstairs to change into jeans and a sweater.
Lifting a small mirror from her makeup bag, she groaned at the sight of her tangled hair and splotched face. Not that she cared what the deputy thought. Or William.
Although, she didn’t want to seem needy or weak. Her father had insisted both his children work hard and were able to take care of themselves. Her Aunt Mary thought Julie was too independent, yet her aunt had survived for all these years on her own as a single Amish woman.
Truth be told, living alone wasn’t what Julianne wanted. Growing up, she had longed for a man to love her. Like every other Amish girl, she wanted to court and marry and raise a family. That dream had died along with Bennie and her dad.
Quickly, she changed and descended the steps just as a knock sounded at the door. She opened it and peered to where William stood near the patrol car. His gaze held hers and made a thread of concern tangle around her spine. Surely Deputy O’Reilly didn’t think William would cause her harm?
The deputy stepped into view. “I’d like to ask you a few questions, ma’am.”
She motioned him forward. “Certainly, come in.”
He followed her into the house and handed her the coat he was holding. “I found this outside and presume it belongs to you.”
“The man pulled it off of me in the scuffle.” She hung her wet jacket on a wall peg and pointed to the aluminum pot on the stove.
“I brewed coffee in case you’ve changed your mind and you’d like a cup. Mr. Lavy could join us.”
“You’ll have to ask Mr. Lavy after I leave.”
“You and William knew each other in your youth as I recall.”
The deputy pulled out a notepad and pen. “That was a long time ago.”
“Things change, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. A lot has happened since then. I knew your brother. He was a great guy. I never...”
Julianne turned away and hugged her arms. Mention of Bennie brought back too many memories. She glanced at the rag rug. It looked out of place near the stairs and seemed like a large neon light that flickered in the darkness. Blood! Beware of the blood!
“Did you hear me, Ms. Graber?”
She turned back and shook her head. “I’m sorry. Could you repeat your question?”
“Would you go over the sequence of events tonight? I want to record what happened.”
“I told you everything when we were outside. Do I need to repeat myself?”
“Yes, ma’am, you do. I’ll record your statement. Once I get back to the station, I’ll type up your report and ask you to stop by the office on your next trip to town to sign the typed statement.”
They sat at the kitchen table, and Julianne repeated what she had told the deputy earlier. At the conclusion of her testimony, she glanced through the window at the lights that continued to flash on the cruiser and thought back to that day long ago when the sheriff and his deputies had arrived at her house. She had stayed with William at the Lavy home until her aunt arrived and whisked her away to Willkommen.
At times, when she closed her eyes, she could still see the flashing lights and William standing at the end of the drive, his face pulled in worry as she rode away in her aunt’s buggy with the cold air blowing through her hair. She shivered with the memory.
“Are you cold, ma’am?”
She rubbed her arms. “A bit, yes. I’ll pour a cup of coffee to warm up.” As she stood, she glanced at his phone sitting on the table. “Surely you have enough information?”
He tapped his phone and jammed it into his pocket. “I have enough. I’ll be leaving shortly. Do you plan to remain here tonight?”
“I have no place else to go.”
He handed her his business card. “This has the sheriff’s department phone number. Program it into your cell. I’ll swing by your farm a couple more times until my shift ends. The next deputy on duty will do the same.”
“With all the lights flashing, I doubt the prowler will return.” A least that was her hope.
“You’ll come by the office to sign your statement?” the deputy asked.
She nodded. “In a day or two.”
“That works for me. I’ll keep you posted in case anything develops.”
“Deputy O’Reilly, let me ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
She didn’t like his choice of words. “Were you here when my father and brother died? Did you come into my house th
at day?”
His face paled. “No, ma’am. I wasn’t with the department at that time. I signed on two years later.”
“But you’ve heard talk.”
His brow raised. “Talk?”
“What’s the consensus around the office?”
“About the murder-suicide?”
“Has anyone questioned whether that’s what happened?”
“You mean, does anyone think Bennie didn’t kill your dad?”
“I guess that’s what I’m asking.”
“No, ma’am. The sheriff made the ruling, and everyone agrees with him one hundred percent.”
“One hundred percent?” Her heart sank.
“Yes, ma’am.”
He started for the door and then turned. “Thank you, ma’am, for answering my questions. Lock your doors. Call if you need anything.”
She nodded. “I appreciate your thoroughness.”
He let himself out. She watched from the window as he talked to William for a few minutes and then rounded his car to the driver’s side.
She took her mug back to the kitchen and turned down the oil lamp. A knock sounded at the door.
Pulling it open, she expected to see William. Instead, Deputy O’Reilly stood on the porch, his gaze pensive.
“There was one person, ma’am.”
She didn’t understand his statement.
“One person on the force,” O’Reilly continued. “An old-timer. He knew your dad. Ike Vaughn. You might remember him.”
She shook her head. “I don’t recognize the name.”
“Ike was an easygoing guy, never stirred the pot, so to speak. He retired early, turned in his badge and moved to a cabin about twenty miles north of town.”
She waited, unsure where the deputy was going.
“I ran into him not long ago when he was having a cup of coffee at the Country Kitchen. We chatted for a minute. I inquired how he was doing, you know, being neighborly.”
Julianne did know.
“And...” she said, hoping the deputy would get to his point.
“Here’s the thing. You asked about anyone questioning the murder-suicide decision.”
Julianne’s heart pounded. “Yes.”
“Ike told me he disagreed with the sheriff. That’s why he turned in his badge. He said the sheriff was wrong.”
“About what happened?”
O’Reilly nodded. “That’s right. He said Bennie wasn’t a murderer, and your dad never would have become violent with his son.”
“Did he say what he thought had happened?”
The deputy hesitated for a long moment. “I don’t want to say anything against the sheriff, ma’am.”
“Of course, I won’t repeat anything you tell me.”
“Ike said it wasn’t a murder-suicide. He said Bennie hadn’t killed himself. He said, without a shadow of a doubt, it was a double homicide.”
* * *
William waved farewell as Deputy O’Reilly turned his car onto the main road and headed back to town. Once the patrol car disappeared from sight, Will glanced at Julianne’s house. His clothes were wet and stuck to him, and a light rain continued to fall. As much as he longed to join Julianne in her kitchen, the door to the farmhouse remained closed.
He hurried home, chastising himself for allowing a woman to upset his peace and calm. In his youth, he had been attracted to pretty girls. Then he had noticed Julianne, and he could think of no one else. After Bennie and her father died, she had disappeared from William’s life, and he had survived. In fact, he had found a renewed sense of fulfillment when he returned home to care for his father. Even after his datt’s passing, William had taken comfort in the daily labor that maintaining a farm required. Cultivating the soil, planting the fields and harvesting the crops, as well as tending to the livestock, had provided a balm for his formerly troubled soul.
Since Julianne had returned to Mountain Loft, his peaceful routine had been turned upside down, as if another man had taken up residence in his body—a man filled with thoughts of green eyes and auburn hair. Along with those thoughts came the memories of moonlight and a kiss.
Upon entering his kitchen, he hung his hat and waistcoat on the wall pegs near the back door, then he added a log to the woodstove and heated the last of the coffee still remaining in the pot. Mug in hand, he hurried to his bedroom and changed into dry clothes. The rain stopped, but he remained unsettled. Sipping the reheated brew, he peered down the road through the darkness, hoping to catch sight of her house in spite of the fog that had rolled in and blocked the Graber farm from view.
Although he was concerned about Julianne’s safety, he wouldn’t disturb her again. Footsteps on her porch might throw her into more of a tailspin, but he hoped the sound of a buggy would be less unsettling.
He slipped on a dry coat, adjusted his hat on his head and hurried to the barn to hitch his mare to the buggy. He lit two lamps and hung them on hooks above the rear wheels to alert other vehicles of his presence before he climbed onto the seat. Grabbing the reins, he encouraged Sugar forward. The clip-clop of the mare’s hooves sounded in the fog as he headed to the Graber farm.
He turned into the drive and pulled Sugar to a stop near the open gate. The door to the woodshop was shut, and he again wondered why the prowler had gone there. William had seen someone on the porch peering into the house. If only he could have caught the culprit.
He thought back to the Graber murders. Julianne claimed someone had knocked her out and then left the house. Who was it, and why had he spared Julianne’s life? If he had spared her life then, had he returned tonight to finish the job he had left undone nearly five years ago?
William glanced again at her house. A curtain in an upstairs window moved. Were his eyes playing tricks on him in the foggy night, or was Julianne peering at him through the glass?
He nodded his head almost imperceptibly, hoping to assure her that he meant no harm and would not disturb her as he stood guard throughout the night.
In his youth, William had been anything but trustworthy. Reputations were hard to change. If only Julianne would realize that by returning to his faith, he had become a new man, hopefully a better man, but a man who still carried the memory of that night at the lake in his heart.
SIX
Julianne woke the next morning with a start. She glanced at her phone on the nightstand, where she had left it. Nine a.m. How had she slept so late?
Feeling rested, she stretched her arms and remembered hearing the clip-clop of a horse’s hooves after the deputy had returned to town. At first, she thought someone was riding by on the road, then she’d heard the buggy turn into the drive. Her heart had stopped, as she’d feared the prowler had returned, but as she peered from the window, she had recognized William.
Even with the fog, there was no mistaking the bulk of him and the way he angled his head to stare at the surrounding area. His gaze had stayed focused on her father’s woodshop for some time. She had lowered the curtain, wondering what he was doing, and then minutes later, she had peered again. That time, he had seen her and had nodded.
Tears of gratitude burned her eyes. William seemed to appear whenever she was in danger, as if he could sense her need. His pensive gaze and the concern she saw in his eyes warmed a place in her heart that longed for healing. She’d been so needy since returning home, her emotions hiding just below the surface.
Crawling from bed, she approached the window and eased back the curtain. The drive was empty. William had probably left sometime this morning. Disappointment swept over her. For half a moment, she had thought about making breakfast and inviting him inside for coffee and eggs. A silly thought, especially since he was probably back at his farm.
She dressed, hurried downstairs and stepped onto her porch. The storm had brought a crispness to the air and a drop in temperature that made her s
hiver. She went back inside, stoked the fire and brewed half a pot of coffee.
Today, she planned to clean the upstairs. Brad Abbott would arrive by eleven, and she wanted the house to be at its best. She didn’t want to sell her farm to a developer who would divide her property into small tracts of land. More than anything, she wanted the farm to remain intact and the house to go to a gut family.
Gut? She smiled at her Amish slip. Selling to an Amish family would mean the farm would carry on as her father and mother would have wanted.
She glanced at the small cement markers on the hill. A developer would plow the land. What would happen to the grave sites? She couldn’t sell to someone who wouldn’t care for the land or the graves, no matter what the real-estate agent said or how much money a buyer would be willing to pay for the farm.
By eleven o’clock, the upstairs was clean. She had changed into a skirt and sweater and had pulled her hair into a bun like she used to do in her Amish days. To get the hair out of her face had been her excuse, although she had formed the bun out of habit before giving thought to what she was doing.
Hearing the approach of a vehicle, she peered out the kitchen window and watched a white SUV pull into her drive. The windows were tinted, and she waited until the driver’s door opened to be sure it was the real-estate agent.
Glancing at the Lavy farm, she hoped to catch sight of William working in the fields, but she didn’t see him or his buggy in the barnyard or the surrounding pastures.
Brad climbed to the porch. After swallowing down a surge of nervous anxiety, she pulled in a deep breath and squared her shoulders before she opened the door.
“You’re right on time.” She motioned him inside.
He stuck out his hand and grasped hers, holding it a bit longer than she would have liked. “Good to see you again, Julianne. The place looks better than I expected.”
