“What? Why?” But Jesse was left talking to the large, reflective caution symbol on the back of the buggy as Andrew pulled away even faster than their bishop had.
Twenty-Two
Amber stared impatiently at her phone. She’d left a message for Hannah hours ago. Why hadn’t the girl called back? Maybe she should drive over to her home. Or maybe she should try to relax.
Her Amish employees rarely asked for days off. She was fortunate that Owen’s viewing was on a Monday and the funeral on Tuesday. Monday wasn’t a terribly busy day at the Village, since about half of the shops were closed. Tuesday they could get by with replacement folks.
Except she couldn’t wait until Wednesday to talk to Hannah. Something told her this wouldn’t keep, that whatever was happening was accelerating.
She’d pulled Leo into her lap and was focused on scratching the feline behind his ears when the phone rang. She dumped him onto the floor and lurched for her cell phone. As she answered it, Leo stretched with his feet placed firmly in front of him and his hind end up in the air. He looked at her reproachfully and stalked off.
“Hello?”
“Amber? This is Hannah.”
“Oh. Thank you for calling me back. I wasn’t sure you checked the machine every day.”
“It was a nice afternoon for a walk and . . .” Hannah hesitated before adding, “I thought maybe Jesse was in town and had called from one of the Village phones to leave me a message.”
“We need to talk . . . about everything that’s going on, about Owen. Can I come and pick you up?”
“I helped Mamm put dinner together already, but we’re about to eat, and I should be there to do the dishes afterward. How about in an hour and a half?”
“I’ll be there at seven.”
“Gut, and, Amber—be careful.”
Hannah hung up before Amber could ask her what she meant. Be careful? She wasn’t the one in danger, but maybe someone was. That was what her heart had been screaming since she’d done her internet research the night before.
She fed Leo. He seemed to forgive her the earlier slight as he crouched down in front of his bowl, purring loudly enough to wake a sleeping giant.
She put together a salad for herself—romaine lettuce, fresh cheddar cheese, tomatoes, and cucumbers, then added a can of tuna to the top. When she sat down in front of it, she took two bites and realized she wasn’t hungry.
Scooping the remainder of the tuna into Leo’s bowl, she walked to her desk and picked up the file she’d put together the night before. It was possible she should go to Gordon with this, but what did she actually have? Suspicions and nothing more—though the facts were disturbing.
Hannah had helped her solve the mystery of Ethan’s killer in the spring. Now they were in the midst of dark waters again. Perhaps, together, they could find their way clear.
Amber parked the car in front of Hannah’s home. She wasn’t too surprised to see Hannah and Jesse sitting together on the front porch steps. There was a certain look, a certain way of acting around each other, when two people became a couple. She wasn’t sure Hannah was even aware of it yet, but she and Jesse were definitely a couple. It was evident in so many little things.
The way Hannah leaned in to talk to him. How Jesse waited until Hannah stood and had moved beside him before he began walking toward Amber’s car. The nearly imperceptible way their shoulders practically touched. It was as if they were drawing strength from each other.
“Jesse stopped by after he got home from Owen’s viewing. I told him we were meeting—”
“And I asked to come along.”
Now that they were closer, Amber could see the lines of tension on Jesse’s face. Was he worried about the same things she was?
“Of course. Get in.”
“Where are we going?” Hannah turned toward Amber as she buckled her seat belt.
“I think best when I’m eating ice cream.”
“The Village?” Hannah turned toward Jesse, who was in the backseat. “What do you think?”
“Dairy Queen?” He stuck his head in between them. “I could use a Blizzard.”
“Sounds fattening and exactly right.” Amber backed away from the house, turned the small car around in the area in front of their barn, and headed toward the main road.
No one talked as they made their way to town, though Amber had a feeling that, like her, Hannah and Jesse were just waiting for the comfort of ice cream to share more unsettling information.
Amber was also thinking about the sunset, the red, orange, and pink colors, and how it was difficult to distinguish one from the other when they all merged together. Which was rather like the facts and suspicions surrounding Owen’s murder. Just when she thought one fact made sense, it merged with a new fact that changed everything right in front of her eyes, much as the colors in the evening sky were changing.
They walked into the fast-food joint and waited in line to order. Hannah glanced at Amber and smiled.
“What?” Amber stared down at her clothes.
“It’s just that you’re still in your work clothes. Did you even go home before you picked me up?”
“Yes. I went home—a little late, and I really didn’t have time to change.” She indicated her long-sleeved ivory blouse, black dress pants, and shiny black shoes. “Too dressy for DQ?”
“Nein. I was only worried that you hadn’t rested at all today.”
“I’ll go to bed early, Mom.” Amber looped an arm through Hannah’s as they moved up to the counter to place their orders.
In less than five minutes they were settled into a booth with no one nearby to overhear them—Jesse and Hannah on one side, sitting as close as two baby birds in a nest. Amber pulled out a pad of paper and a pen.
“I asked you to meet with me because I’m worried. The more I try to figure things out, the more anxious I become.”
“Ya, same here.” Hannah stared out the window at the last of the sunset.
“Make that three, but where’s Tate?”
“Out of town. I’ll share everything with him when he’s home Wednesday, but I hate to ruin his time with his son by talking about this.” Amber tapped the pen against the pad. “Still, I couldn’t stand it all tumbling around in my head another minute.”
Hannah and Jesse nodded in agreement.
“I thought it would help if we write everything down.”
“Where’s your . . .” Hannah made a motion of typing on the tabletop.
“Tablet? I left it at home. I don’t know why, but sometimes when I’m stuck, it helps me to go back to the old way.”
“Ya. The old ways are gut.” It was the first smile she’d seen from Jesse that evening, and it eased some of the concern in her heart.
But then he glanced up as a group of Amish teens walked into the room, and his expression changed. Scowling, he stared back down at his hands.
“Someone you don’t like in that group?” Hannah asked.
“Nein.” He tapped his fingers against the table, then admitted, “Reminds me of when we were younger, when times were simple, when there was no murder to worry over.”
Amber nodded, then drew two vertical lines on the sheet of paper. She labeled the first column Suspects, the second In Danger, and the third Involved.
Under Suspects, she wrote, “Creepy guy behind Mary’s shop.”
Hannah cocked her head so that she could read what Amber had written. “I understand why you’d suspect the man who was waiting on Mary, but I’m not sure I understand your groups.”
“Suspects—that’s plain enough. Someone killed Owen, and I think it’s about time we figured out who.”
“Aren’t the police doing that?” Jesse folded his arms and set them on the table.
“They’re trying, but Gordon’s following the evidence, and I’m not sure there’s enough of that to catch anyone. Then there’s Shaw . . .” Hannah jotted both names down in her Involved column.
“That column I understand.” Jesse po
inted to the far right one. “We know Avery and Shaw didn’t do it, but they are involved with the investigation.”
“Exactly. Roland Shaw rubs me the wrong way, and I think he’s focusing on the wrong thing, but he isn’t in danger and he’s not a suspect.”
“Who is in danger?” Hannah asked, her eyes widening.
Amber was about to answer when Jesse stood. “Our Blizzards are ready.”
They spent the next few moments gathering spoons and napkins and cups of water. The first spoonful of French silk tasted like happiness in a cup to Amber. “This was a great idea.”
“Ya, my chocolate chip Blizzard is nearly as good as Hannah’s chocolate chip cookies.”
“I haven’t baked much lately, and Mamm usually goes for something healthier—like peanut butter or oatmeal. I haven’t made chocolate chip cookies in a while.”
“Which is why I’m at Dairy Queen,” Jesse explained around a spoonful of Blizzard.
Hannah pushed him with her shoulder as a smile spread across her face. She might want to appear perturbed, but she couldn’t hide that I’m-in-love expression.
Amber enjoyed watching the way the two of them interacted, though it did make her miss Tate even more. “What did you get, Hannah?”
“She got double fudge. It’s what she always gets.”
“Not always.” Hannah glanced at them both. “But ya, this time it is double fudge.”
They were three chocoholics in a booth. Amber took another bite and returned her attention to the list.
“I’m putting Mary under the In Danger column.”
“Ya, she couldn’t have done it, but she’s acting very strange . . . and sometimes she seems so afraid.” Hannah told them both about the conversation between Andrew and Mary she’d overheard earlier that afternoon.
“You’re sure it was my bruder she was talking with?”
“I guess I know what Andrew looks like.” Hannah scooped another bite of ice cream into her mouth. “Ya, it was Andrew and Mary.”
“What could they have been looking at? What was on the paper?” Amber circled Mary’s name and added a question mark beside it.
“Don’t know,” Jesse said. “Andrew’s acting very odd as well. He left in a hurry before the viewing was over—like there was an emergency.”
“Do you know where he went?”
“Nein, and he wasn’t home when we had dinner, but . . .” Jesse stared out the window. Since darkness had fallen, he was actually staring at their reflections. “He asked me not to speak to our parents, and he told me to go and see Mary if he didn’t return by tomorrow.”
Amber didn’t know what to make of that, but at least they had a solid connection between Andrew and Mary.
“Do you think his emergency had to do with what I saw?” Hannah’s brow wrinkled in concentration. “While Andrew was studying the sheet of paper with Mary, two men walked up and started talking to him. Then almost immediately after he saw me and I went to get Mattie, he must have gone to see you.”
“What two men?” Amber drew squiggles in the margin of the page while Hannah filled them in on the few details she knew. When she finished, Amber admitted, “It could be related to whatever Mary’s dealing with, but we can’t be sure.”
“I say we put Andrew’s name under the In Danger column.” Hannah had finished less than half of her ice cream, but she pushed the cup toward Jesse and sat back against the booth.
“No offense, but I have to ask something.” Amber hesitated and then pushed forward. “Jesse, is there any chance Andrew killed Owen?”
Twenty-Three
Jesse gawked at Amber. “I can’t believe my ears. Did you just ask if my bruder is a killer?”
Amber cleared her throat as she drew doodles on the side of her page. Finally she looked up and met Jesse’s gaze. “You have to agree there are a lot of coincidences here.”
“Like?” Anger pulsed through him, but he vowed not to show it. Suddenly he wished he hadn’t finished the Blizzard so quickly. It lay sour in his stomach.
“Like he came home the day Owen died.”
“That means nothing.”
“How long had he been gone?” Now Amber was looking at him openly, honestly, and it was difficult to hold on to his anger. “Why did he come back when he did? Why did he come back at all? What has he done since he’s been here? How close was he to Owen?”
“I can’t answer a single one of your questions because I don’t know.” Jesse punctuated each of the last three words with a fist bump on the table. “Ya, I admit it looks bad, but Andrew couldn’t do this. It’s not in him to behave violently. Arrogant? Sometimes. Impulsive? Maybe. But he would never draw a bow and send an arrow through someone’s heart.”
“I agree with Jesse.” Hannah pointed to the middle column. “Put his name here.”
“Do you think Andrew’s in danger?”
“It’s possible.” Jesse sighed as he scrunched down lower into the booth. “I don’t know. He’s acting strange, even for Andrew, and that’s saying a lot.”
“And he is connected to Mary somehow, connected to Mary and probably connected to Owen.” Hannah clasped her hands together. “He was genuinely concerned for her safety. I could tell that much even from where I was hiding—I mean standing.”
“All right. I agree, then. He could be in danger.” Amber added his name to the middle column. After a brief hesitation, she added their three names to the far right side—they were definitely involved at this point. “Who else do we have?”
“Seems Naomi should be on there somewhere.” Jesse took a big gulp from his cup of water.
“Owen’s sister, right?” When they both nodded, Amber asked, “Do you think she was involved in any way? Maybe she knew Owen was in some kind of trouble? Or maybe she suspected that someone might be angry with him? Angry enough to kill him?”
“Nein.” Jesse dismissed the idea immediately.
“She has no time for visiting,” Hannah explained. “I doubt she knew anything about Owen’s comings and goings. She has time for nothing except raising the children and doing the bulk of the work around her place. I explained her husband was ill, ya?”
Amber nodded, and Hannah continued, “She’d never hurt her own bruder, that I’m sure of. I know she was relieved he had come home. She told me so at church meeting a few weeks ago. But there is the box she received. That confuses me . . .” Hannah hesitated, as if she wasn’t sure how to continue.
“Box?” Amber jotted the word at the bottom of the page, drew a square around it, put down her pen, and waited.
Jesse explained about the box Naomi had received with a note and money inside. He added that he had heard the details from his sister, Susan, and then had told Hannah about it just before Amber picked them up.
“You heard it from your sister. Who did she hear about it from?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Can you ask your friend at the police department about it?” Jesse no longer felt angry, only exhausted and confused and perhaps desperate. “They have the box, as well as the note and the money.”
“I doubt they’ll tell me anything. Actually, Gordon shared information about the note and money with Tate and me, but for some reason he didn’t mention the box. Could either of you ask Naomi about it?”
“Not at the funeral; that would be . . . terrible timing.” Hannah clasped her arms tightly around her waist.
“There’s one name we haven’t put on this sheet.” Amber added the letters ISG under Suspects.
Hannah sat up straighter, glancing from Amber to Jesse and back again. “I still don’t understand exactly who they are. I know Mary said Owen was trying to join—you explained that to me. But why? And who are they exactly?”
“I’ve been trying to get a handle on that myself,” Amber said. “I spent a few hours last night researching. The more I know, the more this worried feeling gnaws at my stomach. But I can’t figure out how Owen’s murder and ISG could be connected.”
�
��I don’t know much about the group.” Jesse was glad they were talking about something other than Andrew. “Maybe I’ve heard a few of the men in our community mention them.”
“Are you saying there are Amish folk in this group?”
“Could be.”
Amber played with her earring, turning it round and round, and then she described the couple she’d met at the discount store, when she’d gone there with Pam.
“They’re part of this ISG?” Hannah asked.
“I don’t think so, but their group is similar in many respects. I was able to find out a little about them from a simple internet search. First I went to their site, but that led me to others. I expected to find a bunch of rabble-rousers. I suppose that’s why I was surprised at what I actually found.”
Amber pulled a folder out of her large handbag.
They sat there quietly, completely engrossed in the pages they passed from one to another, what represented hours of research. Jesse forgot all about the teens coming in and out of the restaurant. He forgot to be angry that he didn’t have such a carefree life that included buggy rides and Monday nights spent with a group of friends. He forgot everything except what he was reading.
All of Amber’s pages pointed to the same thing—the Indiana Survivalist Group was growing, and they were under pressure from federal law enforcement to disband.
“I was pretty skeptical about these groups when I first began researching them, but those feelings quickly dissipated. I found nothing to support that fear. I found no indication of trouble at all.”
“If I’m reading these correctly, what’s more important is what you didn’t find. Not a single shred of evidence . . .” Jesse flipped back through the pages. “Not one news report of violence or crimes committed by group members. They appear to be squeaky clean.”
“Maybe they haven’t been caught yet,” Hannah said.
“Possibly.” Amber stared out the window. “In mystery stories, large groups of people are usually found out quite easily. I don’t think they’re involved in this. In my opinion, the single name under our Suspects list, ISG, doesn’t appear to be a guilty party at all.”
Murder Tightly Knit Page 14
