He stood and began to pace. “Chloe, did you make your decision or not? Who is it going to be?”
I took a deep breath and told him.
He smiled. “I knew you would do the right thing. That’s why I hired you.”
I felt sick. As much as I disliked Joel, I knew he needed the job.
“I knew who you would choose,” the dean said. “I’ve already spoken to human resources. The sooner we take care of this, the better. Let me call security.”
My eye brows shot up. “Why do we need security?”
“It’s a precaution, one we have to exercise with all our employees, especially considering his access to sensitive information. Joel works for you. You know he has access to everything.”
I chewed off my lip balm. Dean Klink was right.
“You will have to kill his access to all the servers and computer networks. Can you do that?”
I inhaled another deep breath. “Yes.”
Two hours later I watched as Joel cleaned out his desk. Clark and Miller sat at the table and solemnly watched too. The pudgy sunburned security guard observed Joel from the department’s entrance.
Joel set a picture of his family into the box. My stomach clenched. “Do you need help carrying anything?”
He glared at me. Obviously not the right question.
Miller jumped up and picked up a box. “I’ll help him.”
I nodded and retreated into the doorway of my tiny office.
Joel picked up his briefcase, and Miller and Clark each took a box. After twenty years of working at Harshberger, his entire career fit into two boxes. Nausea overwhelmed me. Miller and Clark left the office first.
Joel turned at the doorway. “Klink didn’t make a mistake when he hired you after all. You did exactly what he wanted. The only surprise is that you don’t scare easily.”
He left, and the security guard closed the department door behind them. I pushed the taste of bile back down my throat and erased Joel’s access from every part of Harshberger’s computer system. You don’t scare easily resounded in my head with each click of the mouse.
Chapter Forty-Seven
At one o’clock, Clark peeked into my office. “I’m going to run to the cafeteria for lunch. Do you want anything?”
I tore my eyes from my computer screen. “No, I’m all right.”
He leaned against the door. “You don’t look all right. Why don’t you come with me? It will be good for you to get out of the office, away from the place of execution.”
“I wish you’d stop calling it that.”
He grinned. “So, how about it?”
“All right. Can Miller come too?”
“Naw, he already left. He usually goes home for lunch. Poor guy is pretty shaken up.”
I gave him a pained expression. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Don’t worry about it. Miller will be fine by Monday. Now, let’s go.”
Clark and I walked in companionable silence across the green to the cafeteria, which was located directly across from Dennis. The only students on campus were volleyball and soccer athletes here for practice. Harshberger was too small for a football team. The students elbowed each other as they moved down the line to fill their trays. At twenty four, I was only a few years older, but felt worlds away. The teams sat together on the far side of the cafeteria close to the entrance to the college bookstore.
Staff and faculty dotted the rest of the large room. None of them seemed to relish their meals. The culinary options were a salad bar that could double as a biology experiment—I bypassed that—greasy pizza, or overcooked hamburgers and limp french fries. I settled on the hamburger and fries, hoping a thick layer of ketchup would overpower the burnt taste.
Clark was already seated at a table by a window that overlooked the gymnasium and student dorms when I paid for my lunch. As a staff member, the whole meal only cost me two dollars, so it certainly had price in its favor. I slipped into the beige plastic molded seat across from Clark.
Clark sawed his hamburger in half with a white plastic knife. “What do you think of the food?”
“Well . . .”
He laughed. “You don’t have to pretend to like it. No one does. When the semester starts, it will be fifty percent better. Notice I didn’t say one hundred percent. However, fifty is a marked improvement.”
After slathering the burger with ketchup, I took a bite. It tasted like charcoal dipped in ketchup. I set it back on the ceramic plate.
Clark put down his burger. Despite his complaints about the meal, most of the burger and fries were gone. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.” I popped a soggy fry in my mouth, swallowing hard to force it down my throat.
“How long are you going to be here?” Clark squinted in the sunbeam that cut through the window. The legs of his chair made a horrible screeching sound as he scooted away from the glare.
“What do you mean?”
“Dean Klink may look harmless, but he’s done this many times before.”
“Done what?”
“Restructured a department.” He made quotation marks with his fingers when he said “restructured.” “Not that firing Joel was wrong. The dude had a chip on his shoulder the size of Mount Rushmore.”
“Joel wasn’t fired,” I corrected. “He was let go,”
“Whatever. We knew when our old boss resigned that it was just a matter of time for us.” He sipped from a paper cup. “Klink hires some young hotshot like you—someone who won’t be here too long—to take over a department.
“Then the hotshot leaves for bigger and better things, and the department is how Dean Klink wants it. Now he hires the person he really wanted for the job because having fired one or two people means he can now afford the expert with more experience.”
The bite of french fry lodged in my throat. I took a big gulp of water.
“So how long are you going to be here?”
I didn’t answer right away.
“Your silence is all the answer I need.” He popped another fry into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “What, one year? Two years?”
“I don’t know.” After meeting the Troyer family, leaving after two years didn’t sound as good as it once did.
He wiped mustard off his chin. “At least Miller and I know what to expect.”
I leaned forward, unable to eat another bite. “Are you going to tell Miller about this conversation?”
He thought for a long minute while dragging the tip of his knife along the rim of his plate. “Naw. The kid is spooked enough as it is.”
“Can I ask you a question now?”
He nodded.
“What can I do to make it better for you guys at work?”
He dropped a french fry. “No one has asked me that before.”
I pushed my plate away. I would eat the lunch that Becky packed for me when I got back to my office.
“I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it.”
I gave him a nod. “Ask Miller to think about it too.”
AT A QUARTER AFTER two, I waited at the entrance to Harshberger, checking my cell phone for the time every few minutes. Will the girl from the bakery show? I wished I knew her name.
“Miss Humphrey?”
I turned to find the girl from the bakery. “I’m so glad you came.”
She nodded, her expression shy. She was still wearing her apron from the bakery. A smudge of chocolate marked her pocket. She picked at it with her thumbnail.
“Do you want to sit down?” I pointed to a bench.
She glanced inside the college’s grounds. “No, I can’t stay long. My brother will be showing up to the bakery soon to take me home.”
“I’m Chloe.” I held out m
y hand. She squeezed my fingers but didn’t shake my hand. “What’s your name?”
“Sadie Hooley.”
“What did you want to tell me, Sadie?”
“I haven’t seen Becky in awhile, not since she left home. My family wouldn’t like it if they thought I was talking to her.” She adjusted her glasses. “But I know Becky and know she could never hurt anyone, especially Bishop Glick. Some of our customers at the bakery say it wasn’t an accident. They think Becky hit the bishop’s buggy on purpose. I know that’s not true.”
“I know it would mean a lot to Becky to hear you say that.”
“Can you tell her for me? I can’t talk to her. I shouldn’t even be talking to you.”
“I will,” I promised.
“You came to the bakery to talk to Esther.”
I nodded.
“Esther and Becky don’t get along. They never have, even when we were in school. It has always been over Isaac.” She picked at the chocolate smear on her apron.
“Does Esther plan to marry Isaac?”
Sadie nodded. “She always planned to marry Isaac, even when he was courting Becky.”
“Isaac courting Becky must have made Esther mad.”
Sadie laughed. “It made her furious. I don’t know how many times I had to hear her rant about Becky in the bakery. Once I told her she should be more upset with Isaac because he chose Becky over her. She didn’t talk to me for a week after, which was a relief really. Esther can talk a person’s ear off, especially if she’s angry.”
“Could Esther be angry enough to want to hurt someone?”
Sadie removed her glasses and cleaned the lenses on her apron. “No.”
“Then why are you telling me this?”
She thought a moment. “Esther can be bristly, even short with people, but I know she could never hurt anyone just as I know that Becky couldn’t. I wanted to talk to you to tell you that. It’s the truth, no matter what you might hear around town.”
“Are there rumors going around about her?”
Sadie shrugged. “People coming into the bakery like to talk. It doesn’t matter if they are Amish or Englisch. They want the news, and the biggest news in town now is the bishop’s passing.”
“Thank you for telling me, Sadie.”
“I should go. My brother must be waiting for me.”
I nodded.
She placed her glasses back on her nose. They didn’t look any cleaner than before. A bit of chocolate marred the edge of one lens. Just before she started down the sidewalk, she turned. “You seem like a nice girl. Becky can use all the friends she can find right now. I’m glad she found you.”
As she walked away, I whispered, “Me too.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
After work, a black buggy sat in front of my rented house. Had Grandfather Zook brought the children? As I got closer to the buggy, it became clear it wasn’t Grandfather Zook’s. This buggy was smaller, and dust covered the back end. Grandfather Zook would never drive his buggy if it was less than pristine.
The main tip-off, though, was the horse: a black and brown mare. No white star on the forehead. Definitely not Sparky. I walked around the empty buggy, and then glanced at my house, seeing no movement. To my right, the crunch of coarse gravel caught my attention—as did Deacon Sutter stomping down my driveway.
I crossed my arms. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you, Miss Humphrey.”
He took a few steps closer to me, but I held my ground.
He towered over me, deep sun lines etching his face. “You have no place to speak to the people in the district.”
My brow furrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you stop in the bakery in town today?”
“I did.” I held up my chin. “I bought some cookies. Is that a crime?”
“You weren’t there to buy cookies.”
I didn’t deny it.
“My brother-in-law told me how upset my niece Esther was by your visit.”
“You’re Esther’s uncle?”
“Yes.” He glared at me.
I blew out a breath. “I’m sorry I upset her, but I wanted to know what she may know about the accident.”
“So you admit it.”
“I never denied I want to know how my car was sabotaged.”
His eyes bored into mine. “Did you talk to anyone else?”
Sadie came to mind, but there was no way I would tell the deacon about her. She took a big risk by speaking to me. “I don’t have to answer that.” I started for the front door, feeling for the cell phone in my purse.
The deacon reached out and grabbed my upper arm. His long slender fingers dug into my flesh. “Don’t walk away from me.”
I jerked my arm away and glared at him. “I thought the Amish were nonviolent. Maybe you should listen more closely to the rules that you preach.”
His eyes narrowed, but he took a step back. “Stay away from my district. You’ve already tricked the Troyers into accepting you, but it won’t work for anyone else. I blame their worldliness on Zook’s influence. Simon Troyer would have never behaved this way before his father-in-law moved to the county. Perhaps they need to be reminded of the error of their ways.”
“How would you do that?”
“That’s a matter for the church.”
I bit the inside of my lip and tasted blood.
He stopped and wagged his index finger at me. “Don’t come around my family again.” Then he climbed into his buggy.
As the horse pulled the buggy away, I wondered what he could do to me if I did. Nothing. I wasn’t Amish. He had no control over me.
The Troyers were another story.
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, I parked outside Little Owl Greenhouse and found Becky sweeping the parking lot. Even with only one good arm, Becky’s broom kicked up huge clouds of dust. There was mulch everywhere.
I hopped out of the car. “What happened?”
“One of the mulch bags broke open during last night’s storm. I’ve been sweeping for two hours. Cookie asked me to finish it before I leave.”
“You have a long way to go.”
“I know.”
I glanced around the lot. “Is there another broom? I can help.”
She grinned and ran into the shop for a second broom. Heat rose from the pavement, and I was glad I had changed into shorts and a T-shirt. “Where are Cookie and Scotch?”
She handed me the broom. “In the hothouse.”
I began sweeping. “I spoke with Sadie Hooley today.”
“Sadie? How is she? I saw her when I stopped at the Amish Bread Bakery looking for work.” She sighed. “I shouldn’t have tried applying there.”
“Why not?” I sneezed as a cloud of dust and mulch flew into my face.
“The bakery belongs to Esther Yoder’s family. Why’d you talk to Sadie?”
“I wanted to talk to Esther.”
“Esther? Why?”
“Just to see if she knew anything about the accident.”
Becky stopped sweeping. “Why would she know anything about that?”
“Ruth said—”
“I know what Ruth said, but Esther wouldn’t do anything to anyone. I already told you that.” Before I could respond, she started one-handed sweeping again. “Esther doesn’t like me. She never has, even when we were kinner, but she would never hurt me.”
“Maybe she asked someone else to do it.”
She looked up. “Why?”
“Isaac.”
She dropped her gaze and shook her head. “The minute I left home, Esther won Isaac. Why would she bother?”
“I’m trying to be thorough. I’m not going to ignore a lead because it’s uncomfo
rtable. Are you more upset about this because of Esther or because of Isaac?”
“I don’t want to talk about Isaac.” She dropped her broom on the blacktop.
“Did you leave for art or did you leave to avoid marriage?” The question popped out of my mouth, and I immediately regretted it.
Her blue eyes filled with tears, and she fled into the greenhouse.
Why did I ask her that? I set both brooms against the front of the greenhouse, then found Becky with Cookie and Scotch in the hothouse.
“Hush! Hush!” Cookie allowed Becky to cry into her shoulder.
Scotch pulled a yellow bandana from his bib overalls and handed it to Becky.
Cookie’s heavily made-up eyes turned on me. “Now, why’d you have to go and make her cry.”
“I—Becky, I’m sorry.”
Becky shook her head against Cookie’s shoulder.
Scotch waved at me. “Come on, Chloe, let’s give the girls a minute.”
Helpless, I followed him back into the store. Scotch moved behind the counter. “Don’t worry about Becky. Cookie will calm her down. She’s good with our girls.”
“You have daughters?”
He nodded. “Two. Both are grown. One lives in Seattle and the other in Richmond. Cookie likes having Becky here so much because our girls are so far away. She misses mothering. Tell the truth, we both love having Becky here and would do anything for her.”
“You’ve already done so much by giving her this job, and driving her back and forth to work goes way above that.”
He waved away my praise. “We need to know she’s safe.” Scotch sat on a stool behind the cash register, clutching his cane. There were no cars in the parking lot and no customers in the shop or greenhouse.
What was Cookie saying to Becky in the hothouse? I hoped her motherly advice was better than her makeover.
Scotch looked around the rustic building. “This greenhouse was Cookie’s dream. It’s something she’s wanted since I first met her more than thirty years ago. I knew I had to make it happen for her.”
“How long have you been open?”
“Four years.” He popped open the cash register and started counting the money in the drawer. There didn’t seem to be much there, but most people shopped with credit cards now anyway.
Plain Death Page 25