by Jane Jensen
Aaron Lapp came out on the porch a few seconds later dressed in a warm coat. “What can I do for youse?”
“We need to speak with you about something rather sensitive involving Katie Yoder,” Grady said. “Is there someplace quiet we can talk?”
“This is good,” Aaron said stubbornly. He looked only at Grady, not at me.
I saw Grady was a little annoyed at being kept on the porch. It was damned cold out, overcast and grim, and after the heat in the car, it wasn’t pleasant to stand outside. I tried hard not to visibly shiver.
“Very well,” Grady said flatly. “I’ll get right to the point. I need to ask you if you’re aware of any sexual abuse happening in your church, specifically anything that might have happened to Katie Yoder.”
Aaron’s face grew red, his brow thunderous, and his eyes darkening to a deep blue. If I’d seen that look on his face when I was a child, it would have terrified me. “I will not discuss this,” he told Grady.
“I’d advise you to talk to us here,” I said firmly. “Or we’ll have to take you in for questioning, and there will be a lot more people present at the station.”
“That’s right,” Grady said, backing me up. “So what’s say we just get this over with?”
“You can’t make me speak,” Aaron insisted, still looking only at Grady.
“This is a case of murder,” I insisted, sounding calmer than I felt. “Double homicide. Even if you insist on waiting for the trial, you’ll have to speak then, under oath and in front of the press. And people will wonder what you had to hide, why you wouldn’t speak to us earlier.”
“This is for the good of the community, Mr. Lapp,” Grady said, more cajolingly. “We have two dead girls and we know Katie was sexually abused. There’s a problem here, and you need to let us help you take care of it.”
Lapp studied Grady’s face for a moment before looking away. “We will deal with it. It’s our way.”
“I’m afraid the state doesn’t see it like that. You’ll have to talk to us one way or the other.”
I saw Aaron’s shoulders slump in resignation. He knew we were right.
I pressed the advantage. “As deacon, you must know what goes on in most homes in your community. Were you aware of any sexual misconduct going on in Katie Yoder’s home?”
“No,” he said firmly, his back straightening. He finally looked me in the eye. “Isaac Yoder . . . no. Verlick not. Never.”
“What about Katie’s brothers? Or cousins?”
He pursed his lips, hesitating. “Katie Yoder was a harlot. If she lured a man to her bed, it was a sin on his part, to be sure, but it was purely willful on her part.”
I bit back a retort on how young Katie had likely been when this had started, about how he flung the word “harlot” out very liberally about a child. But I could see it wouldn’t do me any good to argue head-on with a man like Deacon Lapp. It was smarter to play along for now. “That may be true,” I agreed, nodding my head for good measure. “We’ve heard others say things like that about Katie. We’ll need the names of any man she convinced to sin in that way. We’ll need to speak with them personally.”
“We’ll be as discreet as possible,” Grady added in a lowered voice. “Unless it turns out to be directly related to the murder, no one needs to know.”
Lapp considered it for a long moment. I thought he might even have prayed, silently. We waited. Finally he nodded, as if making up his mind. “No one in Katie’s household did anything they need ask forgiveness for when it comes to Katie. Her brothers are fine men. As for others, most Amish boys thought Katie too wild, too mature. She was seen around with English men. You should look into that.”
“Yeah, we know she was seeing English men,” Grady agreed, still placating the man.
But I sensed something more. Aaron Lapp was withholding on us—I could smell it.
“There was someone, though,” I said, letting my voice go hard. “Some older Amish man Katie saw now and then. Maybe a married man. Who was it?”
Aaron looked away, his mouth in a line. “She was seen going to Ezra Beiler’s house,” he said with reluctance. “After his wife died. Katie had no business there. That’s all I’m sayin’ on the matter.”
Without another word, he went inside and shut the door hard.
CHAPTER 10
Pulling Up Roots
Grady wanted to go over and talk to Ezra right away. We were close by, and I had no reason to put it off. I couldn’t exactly confess that Ezra had fed me ham loaf and blueberry preserves on previous solo visits, that we’d maybe become a little friendly with each other, and that I had secret, irrational crush on the young Amish widower. I couldn’t admit that I’d lain in bed and thought about Ezra holding me the way he’d held me that time I’d fallen off the ladder, only next time preferably someplace warm—and private. How could I explain that it was the first time any man had stirred those feelings in me since Terry’s death, and that I’d indulged said feelings, not bitten off the first shoots as I should have done.
Therefore, I also couldn’t admit how epically pissed off and disappointed I was right now that Ezra Beiler had lied to me.
So we went over there. Together.
We found Ezra in the barn, cleaning out horse stalls. When he caught sight of me, a smile took over his face that was warm and wide. It bounced off my anger like a boomerang. He noticed Grady, and my icy expression, and his smile vanished as if it had never been.
Ezra leaned the pitchfork carefully against the wall of the empty stall, stripped off heavy gloves, and came over. “Detective Harris,” he said, his face neutral. He nodded at Grady too. “Detective.”
I felt a moment’s satisfaction that he’d remembered my name from that first visit but not, apparently, Grady’s. I squashed any remotely favorable feelings though, hanging on to my anger.
“Mr. Beiler,” Grady said flatly. “If you have a few minutes, we have some questions.”
Ezra looked at me, as if seeking some cue. I stared back blankly. “All right. Do you want to—”
“Right here will be fine,” I interrupted him. “I’m recording this.”
I didn’t want to be invited into his house. I didn’t want to be distracted by his pleasant demeanor this time, and I wanted him to goddamn well know I was not happy. I turned on the recorder on my cell phone. “This Detective Elizabeth Harris interviewing Ezra Beiler, February third, 2014. With me is Detective Mike Grady.”
Ezra’s back stiffened and he looked at my collar instead of my eyes. He was clearly picking up on my tension.
“Mr. Beiler,” I began firmly, “two days ago, on February first, I questioned you about Katie Yoder. Do you recall that conversation?”
He shot me a confused look. “Ja.”
“Yes, you do remember that conversation about Katie Yoder?”
“Yes.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Grady shift, apparently surprised by my hard-assed tone. I didn’t care.
“At that time, you indicated to me that you didn’t know Katie Yoder all that well.”
He blinked. “I said she was younger than me. We didn’t come up at the same time. ’Tis true.”
I gave him a hard stare, and he looked away. There was hurt lurking in his brown-green eyes that made me feel sick inside, but I pushed forward. “You neglected to mention the fact that Katie visited your house on more than one occasion after your wife’s death.”
His expression didn’t change, but I saw his Adam’s apple bob with a heavy swallow.
“Well? Can you explain the purpose of those visits?”
His cheeks colored and he dropped his eyes. He looked away, toward the door, and I could feel him turning away in that moment in a sense that ran far deeper than physical. I had a spike of regret, but it was too late now for a softer approach. And he had lied to me, damn it. And maybe playe
d me too. I hated the idea that I’d been hoodwinked by a pretty face. Me.
“Come inside,” he said and, without looking at us for agreement, he went to the door of the barn and left.
—
Ezra was entering the house as we came out of the barn, not waiting for us. I followed, Grady behind me. He stopped me with a hand on my arm. “What was that about?”
“Just tired of being jerked around,” I said, downplaying it with a sigh. I pulled my arm away.
I opened the front door to Ezra’s house remembering the sense of anticipation with which I’d passed through it the last time I was here. I didn’t know if I’d been more of a fool then or if I was being more of a fool now.
Ezra came down the stairs in the front hall as we entered, Martha behind him.
“Asked Martha down,” Ezra said, looking deliberately at Grady and not at me.
“Good idea, Mr. Beiler,” Grady said.
Ezra led the way to the kitchen and waved at the chairs around the table. There was no mention of coffee or cake this time.
We sat as Ezra went to a pine sideboard and opened a cupboard door. Grady tensed, putting his hand near his hip, but as mad as I was at Ezra, I couldn’t imagine him pulling a gun on us. He didn’t. He brought out a pile of books and workbooks and brought them over. He thunked them down in the center of the table more heavily than was necessary. They were textbooks—math, English, history, science. There were two thick workbooks labeled GED.
Oh.
“This is why Katie come by,” Ezra said flatly. “She wanted to talk about leavin’ the Amish. Ain’t so, Martha?”
Martha looked a little confused about what was going on, but she nodded. “’Tis so.”
Damn. I took the GED workbook off the stack and flipped through it. Nearly every page was filled with cramped writing. I looked up at Ezra. “Whose workbook is this?”
“Mine.”
Grady sighed heavily next to me, though whether in relief or surprise I didn’t know.
“You’re trying to get your GED?” I asked, unable to look him in the eye.
“Got it last month,” he said stiffly.
“And this?” I picked up the other workbook. Only a few pages had been done.
“Mine,” said Martha meekly, as if she was ashamed of it.
“Katie was studying for the GED with the pair of you?”
“No, nothin’ like that.” Ezra was still standing and he folded his arms over his chest defensively. “She just . . . heard gossip I might be leavin’ and she wanted to ask about it—what she had to do to get a social security number and about the GED and such like. It ain’t easy to leave. She come by a few times to talk about it is all.”
His accent had grown broader, his speech rougher. I wasn’t sure if that was because he was upset or if he just no longer cared about trying to impress me. I knew what he was saying was true. Amish children were only educated through the eighth grade, and even that took place in their own one-room schoolhouses. Most of them were born at home and didn’t have things like birth certificates and social security numbers. That made it very difficult to get a job or an apartment or a credit card if they ever wanted to leave.
“You’re planning to leave the Amish, Mr. Beiler?” Grady asked.
Ezra looked at the wall, the color still high on his face. “I am.”
“And you, Ms. Beiler?”
Martha shrugged. “Maybe so.”
Part of me was glad to hear what Ezra was planning. I wanted him to be happy, and, selfishly, I wanted him free. I hated that judgmental scowl he’d gotten from Aaron Lapp just for riding in a buggy with me. But I was still upset that he’d lied. I put the workbook down. “Why didn’t you tell me this when I asked you about Katie Yoder?”
“Wasn’t my business to tell. ’Twas Katie’s business.”
“She’s dead,” I said pointedly.
Ezra pressed his lips tight but didn’t answer.
I sighed and looked at Grady. I’d been so angry when we got here. I realized now that a good part of that anger was fear—fear that Ezra had been involved with Katie in some way, a way that could incriminate him in pedophilia or murder. And even if not that, even if he’d had sex with her when she was older and more than willing, it would have underscored the fact that he belonged with his own kind, and maybe that he was less discriminating and more manipulative than I’d thought he was. And maybe there was some green-eyed jealousy in there as well. Now those emotions dissipated like a foul vapor, leaving a dark hollow in their wake.
“Did Katie say anything to you when she visited? About what her plans were? Where she was going?” Grady asked Ezra and Martha.
Martha looked down at her pudgy fingertips and chewed fingernails, her face pink with discomfort.
“Said she was going to New York next summer,” Ezra reluctantly admitted.
“And that wasn’t relevant to a murder investigation?” I asked in disbelief.
He looked me in the eye, frowning. “Murder? But Katie . . . She was murdered?”
“We can’t really talk about that,” Grady said, giving me a subtle nudge with his knee.
Damn it. I rubbed my forehead. I’d forgotten that Ezra might not know Katie was murdered or that her case was tied to the dead girl they’d found next door. Apparently that wasn’t the sort of information the Yoders wanted to share with anyone.
I felt like an idiot, and not just then, but like I’d been an idiot with Ezra from the start, operating with half a brain. I looked up at him again, and at the sight of him standing there stiff and hurt I wanted him all over again and, equally and contrarily, I was determined to pull my head out of my ass and behave like the disinterested professional I was supposed to be.
“One more question, Mr. Beiler,” I said. “When Katie came to visit you, how did she get here? Her parents’ farm is on the other side of Paradise.”
He shrugged. “She walked down from the Lapps’.”
“The Lapps’?” I blinked at him. “Aaron and Miriam Lapp? A few farms down?”
“Yes.”
“Did she visit them often?”
He looked confused at the question. “Katie Yoder cleaned house for ’em. Always did so.”
I heard Grady’s mumbled groan beside me, but I was in no frame of mind to be that subtle. I stood up, slamming both palms on the table and leaned over it toward Ezra.
“Kindly repeat that?” I said quietly.
His face paled but he stood firm. “Katie Yoder cleaned house for the Lapps. Ya didn’t know?”
“For God’s sake!” I yelled, throwing my hands up.
“Harris . . .” Grady warned, standing up.
I turned to him, ready to tear out my hair in frustration. “Am I speaking a foreign language? Am I insane? Why did not one out of the fifty people we’ve interviewed mention this?”
Grady struggled to respond to my outburst. I could see he wanted to laugh, the way you do when someone makes an idiot of themselves, like splitting a seam or slipping on a banana peel, even though he knew he should admonish me. But goddamn it, it wasn’t funny!
“Seriously!” I insisted.
“Let’s go, Detective Harris,” he managed, finding an appropriately reprimanding glower. “I think we’ve got what we need here.”
As we left the house, I turned to look back at Ezra, hoping to give him a final it’s-not-you-I’m-just-frustrated look. Even in my hubris, I felt bad for being so angry with him. But he’d already shut the door.
—
We pulled out of Ezra’s place. It was late afternoon by then, and there was a red haze over the fields that was not, strangely, due to my anger. No, it was real enough, the first death throes of the setting sun filtering through a low-lying mist—beautiful and cold.
“Stop at the Lapps’,” I said stiffly.
G
rady pulled over on Grimlace Lane and put the car in park. “Only if you calm down first.”
“I’m fucking calm!” I shouted, which made Grady laugh and me too, damn it.
“Sorry,” I muttered. “Obviously not calm.”
“Look, don’t take it personally,” Grady said. “It’s like . . . I dunno. Like you said, they’re not forthcoming. If we don’t ask the question specifically, we’re not going to be told a damn thing, apparently.”
“But we asked Hannah and Isaac Yoder—Did Katie have any particular dealings with anyone on Grimlace Lane? They said no.”
“I know.” Grady shook his head in a “go figure.” “I was there, remember?”
“And we’re standing there asking Aaron Lapp about Katie Yoder, and he doesn’t mention she cleaned house for them?”
“It’s a tight-knit community. I guess to them that was just normal to be in and out of each other’s houses so they didn’t think to mention it.”
I growled. “I feel like Hannah Yoder was deliberately hiding it.”
“I don’t think she was hiding it,” Grady said patiently. “She just didn’t think to mention it, the way she didn’t mention Katie brushed her teeth or went to church on Sundays. Maybe she has a different idea of what ‘particular dealings’ means.”
“It’s like we’re speaking two different languages.”
“We are. Don’t let it make you nuts. We’re just gonna have to be even more specific.”
“No problem there,” I grumbled. If I had to use neon flashcards, I was going to get answers.
“Okay?” Grady asked, placing his hand on the keys. “Let’s go talk to the Lapps, but acting pissed isn’t going to help. You were a little rough on Ezra back there.”
Goddamned Pennsylvanians were so nice. “He lied to me!” But Grady’s words caused another twinge of guilt. “Never mind. I’m fine now. I’ve got it under control. Do you see it though? Katie cleaned houses here on Grimlace Lane.”