Samuel shook his head. “They were with us. Ephraim was too agasinish to stay home with the oxygen the doctor says he must have.”
The word meant contrary or stubborn, and Daniel smiled.
“He did fine.” And Samuel was clearly marveling that Ephraim had been able to accomplish such a thing. “Maybe Mamm knew best and it was not his time.”
“God didn’t need him yet, which is a blessing for Ruth,” Daniel said automatically.
“The blessing,” Mose said more grimly, “is that Grossmammi and Grossdaadi were not home when these people came.”
“You’re right,” Daniel agreed, still appalled to think what would have happened if Ephraim hadn’t stubbornly insisted on attending the service. “Did they go only into the house?”
“No, everywhere. The house, the grossdawdi haus, the barn, even the chicken coop. Usually, I would have been thinking it was Englisch teenagers, tearing the place up for fun. But they would have stolen, or written on the walls, or...” He stopped. “This has us fernhoodled, it does. Makes no sense.”
“Show me,” Daniel said.
They started with the house, and he saw immediately what Samuel meant. This wasn’t pure vandalism, although things had been broken. The crocks that held sugar, flour and oats were smashed on the floor, as were other containers. The counters and floor were a mess. The refrigerator door stood wide open as did many of the kitchen cabinet doors.
“They were searching for something,” Daniel said after a minute.
“Ja, it is like that everywhere,” Samuel said. “They had to have been here for hours. Mattresses off the beds, clothes all over the floor, boxes upended. There are many smashed jars in the cellar.” Grief filled his voice.
Daniel understood. Cleaning up the bedrooms, that would only be a bodderation, as the Amish put it. But Samuel was thinking of the enormous amount of work his mother, wife and daughter had put into the canned foods—planting, weeding, picking, even before the fruits and vegetables reached the kitchen. Because they were taking care of their family, it had been a labor of love, now smashed and trampled. His impression was that Samuel and Emma were comfortable enough financially that they could still afford to eat well, but that wasn’t the point.
Daniel skipped the grossdawdi haus during his tour, guessing that Ruth had already begun to clean up. But he saw that straw had been pulled out of the hen’s nests, tools flung everywhere in the shed. The destruction was the worst in the barn, as if the intruders had grown frustrated or had recognized the impossibility of finding whatever they sought if it was hidden here.
He stood looking around at what he knew had been an orderly space. Tack was now tossed in heaps, some pieces cut. Neatly baled and piled hay had been flung against walls, bags of grain dumped out. Thank the good Lord the horses had been out to pasture, Daniel thought.
“Even the buggies,” Mose said with a gesture.
They would have driven the large family buggy to church service, but both Sarah and Emma had their own, smaller ones. In Sarah’s, the velvet seat covers had been slit with knives, the filling ripped out. Side panels were torn out. This damage would be costly to fix, though Daniel guessed Harvey Stolzfus, who built and repaired buggies, would not charge Samuel.
At the sound of steel wheel rims approaching, he glanced toward the open barn door. It would be a neighbor arriving, the first of many who would help with the cleanup. No Amish man or woman, however unlikable, was ever left to face troubles alone. Everyone in the church district, and some people from beyond, would pitch in. By evening, the women would have a feast laid out on tables on the lawn, and the kitchen, barn and bedrooms would be neat as a pin.
“I’m going to call for a deputy who does fingerprinting.” Seeing the two men’s expressions, Daniel continued, “Not in the house. I think he can get clear impressions from the tool handles and the doors and panels in the buggies. If these men are smart, they will have worn gloves, but people aren’t always smart. Or a glove could tear, the man not noticing. We can at least find out if these are known criminals.”
Samuel nodded with clear reluctance. “Could this have something to do with Rebecca?”
“I can’t be sure.” Oh, he knew, all right, but didn’t want to admit as much, not yet at least. “But I think so. These were not thieves, and they didn’t commit the kind of vandalism teenagers do. Whoever they are, they think something is hidden here.”
“Fernhoodled we are, for sure,” Samuel said for the second time, shaking his head. “Glad I am they don’t know where to find Rebecca.”
Even September’s heat had done nothing for the icy chill Daniel had felt since he’d received the phone call. “You and me both.” He nodded toward the barn doors. “I’ll make that call and wait for my deputy. You can go ahead with the house and the henhouse. Even the barn, except for the buggies and tools with smooth handles.”
“Denke,” Samuel said, his disquiet undiminished. He and Mose walked out to greet whichever neighbor had arrived first, while Daniel took out his phone.
Would Rebecca be quite as fernhoodled? he wondered, his molars grinding. Or would she only pretend to be?
He should have known she was still lying.
* * *
SINCE THE MOMENT they had returned from the church service and fellowship meal, Rebecca felt the weight of tomorrow’s inevitable visit from Daniel. She bustled in the kitchen, unable to settle down even though she knew Amos was waiting for her to join everyone else in the living room for a Bible reading. She seemed to be the only one aware of how thick the air had felt today, as if a storm approached. She kept remembering a time when she was only eight or nine. Grossdaadi calling, such urgency in his voice, as he shepherded them into the cellar. She’d felt as if she’d been electrified, every tiny hair on her body standing on end.
That day the tornado bypassed the farm by half a mile. They’d been lucky. She had gone with the rest of her relatives to help another family rebuild. In the years since, she never saw mention of a tornado on the news without feeling a shiver of dread and remembering that barn, flattened, the house missing its roof. And the dead animals.
Amos and Barbara trusted in God’s will and His mercy in a way she didn’t quite. Perhaps Amos had chosen a particularly appropriate Bible passage to read tonight. She would do her best to find comfort in it.
A sharp rap came on the kitchen door behind her. She jerked, then spun to face the danger.
Not danger—Daniel. But why come on Sunday evening?
Apparently her reprieve was over.
She hurried to let him in even as she heard footsteps behind her. Daniel stepped inside, nodding at her but addressing his uncle.
“Have you heard what happened at the Grabers’ today?”
“Ephraim?” Amos said.
“Oh, no.” Rebecca realized she had splayed a hand over her chest, as if to calm her speeding heartbeat. One thing she hadn’t thought to worry about. Her grandfather had looked surprisingly sturdy at the service this morning.
“Ephraim is still fine,” Daniel said. “As fine as he can be.”
Amos said, “Sit down, Daniel. Rebecca, he would like coffee, I think. I will ask Barbara to take Matthew up to bed, ja, so he doesn’t hear.”
To compose herself, she focused on removing two ceramic mugs from the cupboard and pouring the coffee that was almost always on the stove.
She had just set one mug in front of Daniel at the kitchen table when Matthew flew into the kitchen, his sun-streaked hair tousled. She had the thought that soon it could be trimmed to look like the other Amish boys’ hair. And how tan he’d gotten! Rebecca bent to hug him, closing her eyes for a moment at the sheer joy of holding his long, bony body close.
But anxiety filled his eyes. “Do I really have to go to bed? You’ll come up to say good-night, won’t you?”
�
��You do, and of course I will.” She found a smile for him. “Say hello to Sheriff Byler.”
He looked at Daniel with suspicion, which made her heart sink. He must sense her tension. But after a moment he said, “Hi. Why do I hafta go to bed?”
“Because I need to talk to your mother,” Daniel said.
“And because Barbara said you must,” Rebecca added sternly.
He grimaced, but went.
“Good night,” Daniel called after him, but got no response.
“It’s not quite dark yet,” Rebecca said as she glanced out the window at the deep purple of dusk. And then she really let herself look at his face. Her apprehension became dread. He was all cop.
No, she reminded herself, he was just letting her see the truth, now that he had what he wanted from her. This was who he was. She fastened her gaze on Matthew’s artwork decorating the front of the refrigerator and sat silent, nerves taut. Had Tim gone to the Grabers’ today looking for her? What could he have said or done?
Amos reappeared and settled with a sigh on the chair beside her, facing Daniel. It was probably wishful thinking to believe he was allying himself with her.
“What is this about, nephew?”
“While you were all attending the service this morning, someone ransacked the Grabers’ house, barn and outbuildings.” His jaw muscles kept flickering, his gaze shifting between her and Amos.
Rebecca sat aghast, speechless.
“Even the grossdawdi haus. There was destruction, but none of the usual vandalism I’d expect of teenagers. Nothing stolen, so far as we can tell. It would appear they were hunting for something small, because they dumped out kitchen canisters, swept jars off the shelves in the pantry to see behind them, tipped mattresses off beds, yanked panels from the buggies, slit the seat covers. They lifted and flung hay and straw bedding. Even searched the henhouse. It must have taken hours.”
Her fingernails bit into her palms and her teeth wanted to chatter. Realizing both men were now looking at her, she said, “What if Grossmammi and Grossdaadi had stayed home?”
“The intruders might have made some excuse for being there and left. But they might not have, too. This search was ruthless, Rebecca.”
“It’s because of me.” Of course it was.
“You have another idea?” he asked, voice hard. “Unless it’s drug related, we don’t have this kind of crime in Henness County.”
Head spinning, she asked in an absurd last hope, “Do you think they expected Matthew and me to be there?”
“That’s possible, but this wasn’t just a temper tantrum because they’d been thwarted.” Daniel suddenly looked weary, the lines in his face deepening. “They hoped to find something, whether you were there or not.”
Shame flooded her. This wasn’t how she’d wanted to make this admission, but it had to be done. A just punishment for her pettiness.
Amos said nothing. So much for being her ally. And why would he be, when Daniel was family? Daniel’s connection to them was the only reason he and Barbara had taken her in.
Tears burned at the back of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. Instead, she focused on Amos’s face, which didn’t help. The dry humor and occasional twinkle she’d seen in his eyes before were no longer apparent.
“I did hide something at my aunt and uncle’s,” she said baldly. “Something I should never have had. I thought it would keep Matthew and me safe, but...” She didn’t bother finishing, although her gaze sought Daniel’s.
He was looking at her, all right, with cold judgment. “The men might have taken it.”
Fear sprang from nowhere, spreading with sickening speed. What if he was right? Daniel said they had flung hay bales. They might have seen the loose board beneath one of the bales, just as she had.
If the wallet and ring were gone, she wouldn’t be able to make anything right.
In a voice not her own, she managed to say, “It’s possible, but...I found a good hiding place.”
Devastated by the trauma her family had suffered today, she couldn’t worry about herself or feel crushed by Daniel’s condemnation. Even if she’d told Onkel Samuel up front that she was hiding something as a kind of insurance, this would have been bad. Now, all she could do was confess to her aunt and uncle and cousin Sarah, to Mose and Esther who’d been so kind. They would offer forgiveness, of course, but trust once lost was rarely extended again. Except for Matthew, they were her only family. She hoped her grandparents could be left with their illusions.
Amos’s stern regard had her wondering if he would ask that she and Matthew be moved again.
She said quietly, “I’m sorry, Amos. I know that’s not adequate, but...I believed I was protecting Matthew. And I never thought anyone would be at risk but me.”
Amos nodded, still gravely. Kindly? She hoped so. There was certainly no kindness on Daniel’s face.
She made herself look at him. “Can we...go see?”
* * *
THE GASP AND small thump coming out of the darkness compelled Daniel to turn and help Rebecca, despite his lack of sympathy. Navigating the woods along the creek wasn’t easy without using a flashlight, but at least he wasn’t wearing skirts to midshin.
He could make out her shape, and he could tell she was still upright.
“You okay?” he whispered.
“Just—” She shook her head hard. In such moonlight as there was, he saw her kapp’s white ties swing. She waved him forward.
He hadn’t wanted to bring her. Not because he believed whoever had been watching the Grabers’ farm still lurked in the woods. Any city boy would be scared witless out here the first time an owl with full wingspan dropped from the sky or a deer crashed through the undergrowth. Even so, Daniel couldn’t entirely discount the possibility—thus this trek from three farms over.
No, being mad at her was his real problem.
Rebecca had tried to describe the exact location of the loose board in the barn, but since it apparently wasn’t close to the stalls or any other obvious landmark, he’d had a vision of himself crawling around that huge barn until dawn. No saying she could go right to it, either, especially by flashlight, but she would have a better chance than he did.
They should be able to slip in without announcing themselves or scaring everyone. Barn doors were never locked, not with the fear of fire in these huge, old wooden structures filled with hay and straw. The long dry spell increased the risk when the next lightning storm swept through. Being able to get animals out as quickly as possible, that was what mattered. This being an Amish homestead, there wouldn’t be any motion-sensitive floodlights, either.
And since, for the first time all day, he was being glass-half-full here, he should also be glad that if the horses were to trumpet a challenge and Samuel came to find out what caused the racket, unlike an Englischer he wouldn’t shoot first.
At another snapping sound accompanied by a rustle and a tiny whimper, he reached back for Rebecca’s hand. A branch had whipped toward her—not into her face, he hoped. He couldn’t let her be hurt because he was sulking. Her hand felt icy cold and stiff in his, but she accepted that she needed guidance.
He made out the bulk of the barn roof at last, veering so that they would emerge behind it.
“Side door,” he murmured.
She nodded and moved silently along with him. He groped his way along the stone foundation until they reached the door. He hadn’t expected it to be locked any more than the main entry, and it wasn’t.
As they stepped inside, a soft whicker greeted them. Big feet thumped as horses shifted in stalls.
After gently closing the door, he took the flashlight from his belt and turned it on, keeping the beam low. Rebecca went to the first stall and stroked the nose that poked over. Daniel joined her. It was worth taking a few minutes to calm the
horses.
Her quiet voice came to him. “Yesterday, I started to tell you I had the wallet and ring, but you interrupted and I didn’t make myself try again. Last night, I made the decision to tell Detective Estevez when you came back with your phone. You may not believe me—”
“I don’t,” he said shortly.
If anything, she stretched her neck to hold her head higher. There was her dignity again, fragile though it was.
He was being a jackass, he knew, and was afraid his fury was all because she hadn’t trusted him, not because he didn’t understand why she’d held back.
After a moment, she nodded, then said, “I need the flashlight.”
He handed it over, and she swept it across the floor of the cavernous barn.
“It doesn’t look anything like it did!” Her voice rose in dismay.
He kept his mouth shut, tempting though it was to say, Gee, I wonder why? Okay, he hadn’t gotten over being mad.
After a minute she advanced toward the center of the barn, not far from a ladder that rose to the loft above.
“I think...” She crouched and began pushing loosely piled hay aside. When she reached for a burlap bag of oats, he hefted it aside before she could. He kept moving them out of her way until she gasped.
“This is it!” Her certainty seemed to diminish. “I think this is it.” She directed the beam of light at a joint where two boards met, and he saw that nails were missing. He also saw her hands ball into fists. She was girding herself to find an empty space beneath the floor. “I need a hoof pick or something like that.”
Daniel took his Swiss Army knife from his pocket, flipped open the longest blade and handed it to her.
He held the flashlight as she lifted the board. The wood squeaked, and then she breathed, “Oh, thank God.”
Daniel had his doubts whether God would want any part in this mess, but he could be wrong. It didn’t seem that anyone else cared much about Steven Stowe.
Crouched beside her, he watched as she eased a clear resealable plastic bag through the crack the knife blade held open.
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