by Marta Perry
“I’m fine. Just a little sore, that’s all.” She pressed her hand to her back, feeling the bruise.
“It was bad enough. I’m thanking God it was no worse.” Instead of giving her a hand to help her to the buggy seat, Aaron startled her by lifting her bodily. He set her gently on the cushioned bench and climbed up next to her.
Brief as it had been, the pressure of his hands against her waist had snatched her breath away. Not wanting him to see her expression, she watched his strong hands on the lines as they started slowly down the road toward home.
“You really didn’t need to come with me to pick up Molly,” she said, once she thought she could control her voice. “Jonny was going to drive me.”
“Your brother’s a fine boy, but I don’t think you should be going down any lonely roads with only him for company just now.” Aaron’s tone and his face were grim.
“What...what do you mean?”
“Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this to you, but it’s best you’re warned. I’m not convinced what happened today was an accident.”
It took her a moment to absorb the import of the words. “You think someone did something to my buggy? But how could they? And why?”
“Why do I think it, or why would anyone do it?” Aaron frowned at the road ahead. The sun had nearly reached the top of the ridge while they were at the Stoltzfus place fetching the mare. The slanting rays seemed to touch the fields with gold.
“Both,” she said. “I don’t understand.”
“You said it yourself. You’d never had such a thing happen before in your life. Neither have I. A carriage wheel doesn’t come off that easily. So why did yours today?”
“Well, I...I don’t know.” Her rational mind rejected the idea, but fear came creeping along her nerves. “Daad had the buggy taken to the shop, but he didn’t say anything about it not being an accident.”
“Most likely he didn’t want to worry you, and here I am doing it anyway.” Aaron smiled slightly. “But I haven’t forgotten that you came too close to the firebug. What if he thinks you can identify him? This might be a way of silencing you.”
“But I can’t say who it was,” she protested, appalled at the thought he’d put into her mind. “I didn’t see anything, and I told Mac and that investigator.”
“The firebug might not believe it. I’m not saying this to frighten you, but just so you’ll take precautions. Please, Sarah, promise me you won’t go anywhere alone.”
“My work, the shop... I have to go to town. I can’t hide.” She told herself he was imagining things, but that didn’t seem to chase the fear away.
“Your daad and I already talked about that. Someone will drive you back and forth. They’d have to anyway, until your buggy is fixed.”
“You talked to my father.” She wasn’t sure whether she was more offended or touched.
“I know I’m butting in, but I was afraid he didn’t realize the possible danger. So I did, even if it makes you angry.” Aaron darted a sideways look at her, as if assessing her reaction.
She let out a long breath before responding. “I’m not angry.”
“Hold on to that thought, because I’m going to do something else you might not like. I have to tell Mac about it.”
“Go to the police? But, Aaron—”
“I know, we don’t go running to the police with everything that happens. If it was a chance act of vandalism, that would be one thing. But if it’s related to the arsonist, Mac has to know.”
The wheels rotated a few more times before she was ready to answer. Funny how aware she was of the buggy wheels now, when she usually barely heard them.
“I understand. I’m not sure you’re right, but it’s best if Mac knows. Anything to help him catch this person.”
“Good.” Aaron pressed his hand over hers where it lay on the seat between them.
She was still enjoying the sensation when she felt him stiffen.
“Look.” He gestured toward the Gibson farm, coming into view along the road. “There’s a car pulled up in the lane. Maybe Matt Gibson is there.”
Sarah made out the glint of something silvery between the trees, hardly visible. “Could he have gotten here this soon?”
Aaron shrugged. “I guess. A plane to Philadelphia and a rental car the rest of the way wouldn’t take long. I’ll drop you off and then go and see.”
“I’ll go with you. If it is Matthew, there may be things he needs. In fact, since the house doesn’t belong to him any longer, where will he sleep? I’m sure Mamm and Daad would invite him to stay with us, if need be. Or at least to come over and have something to eat.”
Aaron’s lips tightened. “If he’s upset with me, it might be better not to have you with me.”
“If he’s upset, having me there might be the best thing you could do,” she pointed out. “He certainly shouldn’t be getting himself excited with his bad heart.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Aaron was being unusually stubborn.
Well, she could be stubborn, as well. “If you drop me at home, I’ll just walk over. Isn’t it more sensible to go together?”
Aaron cast her an exasperated look, but then nodded. They rode in silence to the driveway and turned toward the house.
“How strange it must seem to Matthew, to come back to a place that was home for so many years, now that it no longer belongs to him.” Sarah tried to put herself in that position, but she couldn’t.
Nodding agreement, Aaron guided the horse around the car parked in the drive. With Molly plodding patiently behind, the buggy moved into position at the hitching rail Matt had put up years ago for the convenience of his Amish neighbors.
Aaron climbed down, coming around quickly to lift her down, just as he had lifted her up. When he set her on her feet they were very close, and he lingered for a moment, his hands on her waist.
“I hope we’re doing the right thing,” he murmured, almost to himself. Then he strode to the front door, with Sarah following.
He knocked once, then knocked again. There was no answer, but a faint glow came from inside—a light in the kitchen, Sarah thought.
“Someone must be there,” she said. “The car, the light...”
Aaron knocked again, loudly, and added a shout. “Matt? Matt Gibson? Are you there? It’s Aaron King and Sarah Bitler.”
Still no response, and the silence began to seem eerie to Sarah. A slight breeze touched her arms, and she shivered involuntarily.
“This isn’t right. He might be ill...” She let the words trail off as Aaron tried the door. It swung open.
He moved inside. “Matt?” he called. “Matt—” The sound choked off as if someone had grabbed his throat.
“Aaron, what is it?” His tall, broad body blocked her view. Impatient, Sarah stepped around him.
And then wished she hadn’t. Matthew Gibson sprawled full-length on the living room floor, his head turned to the side, his eyes open and staring sightlessly at them.
CHAPTER TWELVE
AARON FELT AS if he’d been sitting in Matthew Gibson’s old kitchen for hours answering questions, but since it was only now getting dark, it couldn’t have been that long. Fortunately, the old Formica table and chairs had been left in place, or they’d have been sitting on the floor.
Mac studied the small notebook he’d been writing in. “So you’re not sure exactly what time it was when you arrived at the house?”
“No.” He clamped his lips shut on the word. Mac knew as well as anyone that farmers didn’t consult watches and cell phones constantly. Aaron didn’t have one, for one thing, and he didn’t need it. Work on the land wasn’t done by the clock.
“Sorry.” Mac managed a slightly more human look. “I’ll let you go soon, honest. How long had the car been sitting by the house?�
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“No idea,” he said tersely, and then regretted it. Mac was just doing his job, and Aaron had no reason to make it more difficult.
“Wouldn’t you have seen it earlier, like when you left your lane?”
“Probably not.” He frowned, trying to visualize the view of the Gibson property from their farm. “The tree line hides that section of the drive from sight.”
“But you saw it tonight?”
Aaron nodded. “Sarah and I happened to be coming up the road from the Stoltzfus place as the sun was setting. I guess the angle was just right for it to glint on the metal. I noticed it and pointed it out to Sarah.”
He heard the sound of heavy footsteps in the other room, and someone shoved the front door open with a squeak. They must be taking poor Matthew away.
“Sarah isn’t still out there waiting, is she?” Aaron asked. “She doesn’t need to see Matthew’s body again.”
“No worries. I sent her home a half hour ago. Eli came over when he saw the police cars, so he took her. He said something about an accident she was in today?” Mac made it a question.
Aaron rubbed the back of his neck, trying to focus. “It’s odd. I had just been saying to Sarah that we should tell you about it when this happened.”
“An accident with a car?” His friend’s tone was sharp. He was no doubt wondering why he hadn’t been called at the time.
“No, nothing like that. She was driving home with my sister Becky and my two girls in the buggy when a wheel came off, down by the Everly place. They were fortunate not to be hurt worse.”
“I’m sorry. Your little ones are all right?”
“Fine.” His thoughts flickered to Sarah shielding them. “Ben Stoltzfus and I both looked at the wheel and the axle. It seemed to have grease on it, or maybe oil. And Eli takes too good a care of his property to let his daughter drive a buggy that isn’t safe.”
“You think it was done deliberately.” Mac filled in the blanks quickly. “Why?”
“I’m wondering if the firebug might fear Sarah could identify him in some way.” Aaron shook his head, wishing he could shake off his worry as easily. “That buggy sits out behind the quilt shop all day long. It’s more or less hidden by the building in front, that big maple tree Sarah puts it under, and your dad’s shop. Someone could tamper with it easily enough.”
Mac considered. “It would be a risk.” He held up his hand when it seemed Aaron would interrupt. “I’m not dismissing it. It would be a nasty coincidence. I’ll look into it. Is the buggy at the farm?”
“Eli had it picked up by John Shuman right away.” Mac would know Shuman, the buggy maker.
“I’ll stop by there and have a look at it. See what John thinks about it, too. Now, about your visit tonight—”
“I told you. We thought Matthew Gibson had come back. Sarah wanted to invite him to their house, and I knew he wanted to have a word with me.”
Mac’s attention sharpened. “How did you know that? Were you expecting him?”
“I didn’t expect him to come here. I wrote to him, and I figured he’d answer with a letter or a phone call.” Aaron hesitated, but there was no point in trying to keep back any part of the story. He had nothing to hide except the sense of responsibility that he’d prompted a sick old man to make a trip he probably shouldn’t have. “He left a message on our machine, saying something I couldn’t make out about a letter. Then he said he was coming up and that we’d talk. He didn’t say when he was coming, but when I saw the car, I assumed it was Matthew.”
“It sounds as if you wrote to him about something in particular. Must have been important, to bring him all the way back here from Florida.”
“Not important enough for him to risk his health.” Aaron sighed, feeling the weight of responsibility. “You see, he had promised me some time ago that when he was ready to sell the farm, he’d give me the first chance to buy it. I wrote to him because I couldn’t understand why he’d go back on his word.”
“So he didn’t tell you it was up for sale?”
“No one here knew anything about it except for Harvey Preston. He handled the sale, and he says Matthew never even mentioned me to him. I guess he might have forgotten, but I wanted to know why. And what the new owners are going to do with the place, too.”
“You must have been pretty upset to find out he’d sold the property without even letting you know it was on the market.”
“Disappointed, that’s certain sure. I could have farmed this place and still been close enough that my mother and sister could take care of the children.” His voice slowed when he realized Mac was writing down what he said. Wariness crept over him.
“You’re asking a lot of questions that don’t have much to do with poor Matthew having a heart attack,” he said. “That is what happened, isn’t it?”
“Too soon to tell.” Mac didn’t meet his eyes.
Aaron felt his muscles tighten. “It must have been. He had a bad heart, and his doctor had told him not to fly.”
“How do you know?” Mac shot the question at him. It suddenly seemed he was a stranger instead of someone Aaron had known since they were children.
“He told us that in a Christmas card. Told the Bitler family, too.”
“If that’s the case, the medical examiner will figure it out.” Mac hesitated. “There’s just one thing that doesn’t fit with that theory—there’s been some sort of blow to the back of his head. It might have happened when he fell, of course. It probably did.”
He sounded as if he’d like to believe that. Aaron could only stare at him, revolving the words in his mind until they made sense. Mac actually thought Gibson might have been murdered. And it sounded as if he thought Aaron had a motive to do it.
* * *
SARAH SAT ON the side of her bed, too tired even to take her clothes off. This had been a day that overwhelmed both mind and body. All she wanted was to topple over on the bed and escape into sleep, but the habits of a lifetime wouldn’t allow her to do so without washing and changing into her nightgown.
Even as she tried to muster some energy, she heard voices from the kitchen below her bedroom. Daad was greeting someone, and the responding voice made her breath catch. Aaron. Why was he here so late? Had something else happened?
Drawing in a deep breath and straightening her spine, Sarah rose. Obviously she had to go down. Just as obviously she should keep this conversation brief, or she might treat Aaron to the spectacle of her dissolving in a puddle of tears. And the thought of what she might expose about her feelings in that moment frightened her.
“I think Sarah has gone to bed already,” Daad was saying as she reached the bottom of the stairs. “Can it wait until tomorrow?”
“I’m still up, Daadi.” Sarah went quickly into the kitchen, trying not to wince when the sudden movement sent a spasm of pain across her back.
“Sorry to bother you this late.” Aaron’s lips smiled, but his eyes were serious and furrows had formed between his brows. “It won’t take long.”
Daad looked from one to the other of them and cleared his throat. “I’ll just take my newspaper into the living room.”
They waited awkwardly until he’d gone, but even then Sarah could clearly hear the rustle of his paper in the quiet house. She nodded to the screen door. “Let’s go out on the back porch to talk.”
Aaron held the door, then closed it softly and followed her to the porch swing. When he sat, the weight of his body set the swing moving, and she was aware of every inch of him.
Aaron didn’t speak, and she let the silence grow, unable to think of anything to say. The summer night seemed to press against her skin, and above the willow tree she could see the bright stars that made up Orion’s belt. Lightning bugs flickered on and off in the lower field, leaving trails of light over the dry grass.
; “I wish it would rain.” Aaron’s thoughts seemed to follow her own. “The corn is drier every day.”
She nodded, not sure he could see the movement in the dark. “At least there haven’t been any fires since last week. Maybe the firebug has been scared off.”
“Maybe.” Aaron turned slightly toward her, setting the swing vibrating. “Sorry. I was trying to think of some easy way to say this, but there isn’t one. Before you talk to Mac again, you must know. He isn’t convinced Matthew Gibson’s death was natural.”
It took a moment to grasp his meaning. “But...what would make Mac think that? We all knew how bad Matthew’s heart was. He overexerted himself, and maybe just the stress of being back in the house where he’d lived so long...”
“I know. That’s what I thought, too. And that would be bad enough. But Mac said there had been a blow to the back of his head.” Aaron hesitated. “I’m afraid, from the questions he was asking, that he doesn’t think it was an accident.”
Sarah felt herself trembling. “It doesn’t make sense. Surely Matthew could have struck his head on something when he fell. The idea that someone would—would attack him. That’s crazy, isn’t it?”
“Crazy things have been happening lately, ain’t so?” Aaron’s hand brushed hers, setting up a wave of heat that startled and dismayed her. It was as if his slightest touch had the ability to shatter the self-control she prized.
“Who would do a thing like that?” She struggled to focus. “Who even knew he would be there? Maybe...well, maybe someone broke in, thinking the house was empty, and—”
“With the car sitting outside?”
That silenced her. Her mind seemed incapable of coming up with any other solutions.
“You asked who knew he would be there. I knew. At least, I knew he was coming. And from Mac’s viewpoint, I had a reason to be angry with him.”
“But that’s nonsense! You knew he was coming, but you didn’t know he was there already. Or even when he’d get here. I should think Mac had better sense than that.”
