Marta Perry

by Search the Dark

  “We’ll start now,” Rachel said briskly. “Come on, both of you. We’ll all think more clearly once we’ve had some breakfast.”

  As if impelled by Rachel’s calm good sense, Meredith let herself be hustled along the hallway to the kitchen. Zach followed. There were things they should talk about, decisions to make, but Rachel was right. That would go better with sustenance.

  He paused in the doorway, surveying the baskets and casserole dishes collected on the counter. The women seemed to take it for granted, but he was startled by the sight. The food was a silent message of condolence and support from the community.

  “There’s a breakfast casserole ready. Rebecca brought it over from next door first thing this morning, and you’d better eat some or her feelings will be hurt.” Rachel was working as she talked, spooning out portions of what seemed to be an egg and ham dish.

  He steered Meredith to a chair. “You’d better listen to Rachel. She seems to have a will of iron behind that sweet exterior.”

  Rachel gave him a startled smile, and it occurred to him that Colin McDonald was a lucky man.

  “Yes, all right. Don’t both of you gang up on me,” Meredith said. She sat down and obediently picked up a fork. Taking the chair next to her, Zach dove in himself, nodding when Rachel offered coffee.

  Meredith toyed with her food for a few minutes and then fastened her gaze on his face. “The police didn’t tell me anything about...about my mother’s body. Do you have any idea when I can arrange the funeral?”

  Naturally she’d be wondering. He had to answer, little though he wanted to talk about it.

  “They’ll have to wait until the medical examiner determines the cause of death. I should think they’d have an idea fairly quickly, although there may be some tests that have to be sent to a laboratory. There’s no way of knowing exactly.”

  “You can still talk to the pastor and plan the service,” Rachel said quickly. “At least you’ll be ready when the time comes.”

  Meredith nodded, seeming reassured by the idea. “Mom had some favorite hymns and Bible verses.” Her voice choked a little, and she cleared her throat before she went on. “You don’t think it was an accident, do you?”

  He frowned, trying to decide how to say what he must. “There are too many things the theory of an accident doesn’t explain.”

  “But why would anyone harm her?” Meredith gripped the edge of the table. “It doesn’t make sense.”

  He put his hand over hers, wanting to offer comfort. Meredith drew her hand away from him as if she didn’t welcome his touch. It startled him. He’d thought they’d moved past the barriers between them. But maybe this was her guilt in action—guilt that she’d been with him when her mother died.

  “Look, if the medical examiner rules that it wasn’t an accident, I think we have to talk to Chief Burkhalter about this business surrounding Aaron’s death.”

  Rachel looked more startled than Meredith did. “How could Meredith’s mother have been involved in that? Someone might be upset with Meredith for poking into it, but surely Margo didn’t know anything.”

  “I’m not so sure,” Meredith said slowly. “I didn’t tell her about it, but she did seem interested in our scrapbook from the summer Aaron died.” She rubbed her temples. “She said if anyone knew anything about that night, it would be her, because she was the only one of us home.”

  “Did you ask her what she meant?” Somehow Zach wouldn’t have expected Margo to take an interest in an issue outside her own wishes, but maybe he’d been wrong.

  “I tried, but she just slipped away from the subject. She always did that when she didn’t want to talk about something.” Meredith’s frown deepened. “Can you imagine Chief Burkhalter’s reaction if I tell him that we’ve been trying to find out what really happened to Aaron Mast? He’d be angry that anyone questioned his judgment, and he certainly wouldn’t believe it could possibly relate to my mother’s death.”

  “It makes more sense than him badgering you and Zach as if you had something to do with it,” Rachel said. “That’s just utter nonsense, and he’s certainly known you long enough to know it’s impossible.”

  That led right into the more difficult point he had to bring up. He couldn’t let Meredith walk innocently into a meat grinder.

  “You have to realize that the police can’t look at individuals that way. The investigation may eventually involve the state police and even the county district attorney’s staff. That’s why I think we need to talk this over with an attorney.”

  “But—” Meredith looked as if she’d been hit. “No one could suspect me of harming my mother. And we were together all evening.”

  So she’d already considered that he might have a reason for wanting Margo out of the way.

  “It’s inevitable that the first people the law looks at are those closest to the victim,” he said. “I don’t want to scare you, but you have to be prepared. We both do.”

  He thought that might shake her, but instead it seemed to give her strength. Her color improved, and her eyes sparked.

  “Then we can’t just sit around and wait to be blamed. If the attack on Mom had anything to do with Aaron’s death, we’ll have to find out what happened for ourselves. Maybe if I talked to Laura again—”

  “You’ll never get near her if Victor has anything to say about it,” Rachel pointed out. “Let me do it. I can find some excuse to stop by.”

  “Would you?” Relief showed in Meredith’s voice.

  “Of course.” Rachel glanced toward the back window and half rose. “Someone’s out there.”

  Zach beat Meredith to the window in the back door by half a step. She leaned around him, apprehension filling her face at the sight of people moving through the tall weeds behind the garage.

  “What are they doing?”

  He measured the activity with an experienced eye. “That’s a grid search. It looks as if Burkhalter has called in the state police crime scene investigators.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought he’d let the investigation out of his hands,” Rachel said, sounding as if she’d had previous experience with Chief Burkhalter. “Why would he call them in?”

  “At a guess, it’s looking less like accident and more like murder. At least these guys will do a thorough search, which is more than he could manage with his small force.”

  He looked at Meredith as he spoke, hoping she was reassured. But she wasn’t staring out the window now. In fact, she seemed to be looking at the wall, where a row of pegs held a raincoat and a couple of umbrellas.

  “What’s wrong?” He wasn’t sure he liked the expression on her face. She looked like someone who’d picked up a flower and discovered a spider.

  “My jacket.” She reached out a hand toward an empty peg. “My tan windbreaker isn’t here.” Her eyes widened. “Mom had it on. I didn’t realize it at first—I didn’t get a close look...” She let that die off.

  She was right, he realized. He’d subconsciously recognized the sodden jacket Margo had been wearing, even stained and wet from the pool.

  Rachel came to look at the hooks. “It was chilly last night. She must have picked up the jacket as she went out the door.”

  Zach’s mind turned the fact over and gave it a good hard look. It could mean nothing at all. But it could also mean that Margo hadn’t been the target at all. The killer might have thought he was attacking Meredith.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  FOR MEREDITH, THE DAY seemed to grind on endlessly. She couldn’t stop thinking about her mother, imagining those last moments. Had she realized what was happening to her long enough to be terrified? Had she cried out for Meredith? With every question the knife of grief pierced deeper into her heart. And guilt. How did anyone get past the guilt? If her actions had somehow led to her mother’s death, she would never forgiv
e herself.

  She couldn’t rationalize away the implications of her mother having been attacked while wearing Meredith’s jacket. The three of them had discussed it backward and forward, coming to no conclusions. Zach had left after about an hour, probably annoyed with her lack of response each time he tried to get close to her.

  When the door closed behind him, Rachel turned to her, a question in her eyes. “You were a little hard on him, weren’t you?”

  “Maybe.” She rubbed her forehead, wishing she could think clearly. “It would be too easy to lean on him.”

  “A man’s strength is welcome sometimes.” Her smile suggested she was thinking of Colin.

  “Too welcome.” She yearned to seek comfort in his arms, so much so that it was like a physical ache. “But just being close to me has brought him under suspicion.”

  “I don’t think Zach minds that,” Rachel said.

  She could only shake her head. Loving her had nearly ruined Zach’s life once. She couldn’t let that happen again.

  Rachel shrugged, apparently giving up for the moment at least. “It is worrying about your jacket. The light tan would show up, even at night.”

  “Yes, it would.” She couldn’t entirely suppress a shudder at the train of thought. “People are used to seeing me wear it. Mom even complained about it, saying I should get something new. And at night, the gray in her hair wouldn’t show up.” She stopped, not wanting to carry the supposition any further.

  She shook her head, trying to shake off the thought. “Look, there’s no reason for you to stay with me. I’m sure you have things to do, and people will probably be dropping by all day.”

  “All the more reason I should stay. You shouldn’t have to keep going over it and over it with people.”

  “I’ll be fine. Anyway...” The doorbell interrupted her. Her nerves jumped. If it was Chief Burkhalter coming back with more questions, she might welcome Rachel’s presence.

  But it was Rebecca Stoltzfus from next door, leaning on her cane with one hand while holding a basket in the other. Meredith found her eyes filling with tears at the sight of the lined, kindly face. “Rebecca.” Her voice choked. “Come in.”

  Rebecca handed the basket to Rachel and put her arm around Meredith, holding her close and murmuring soft words of comfort in dialect.

  Meredith didn’t even bother to translate. She didn’t need to. Love and comfort were the same in any language.

  She drew back after a moment, mopping her eyes. “I thought I was done crying.”

  “That will take some time,” Rebecca said. “You must not expect yourself to be strong always, ain’t so?”

  “I’d be disappointed if I did.” She managed a watery smile and turned to Rachel. “Now, you see, I told you someone else would stop by. You don’t have to stay with me.”

  “Maybe I will leave for a little while, now that Rebecca is here. I’ll try to take care of that other thing we talked about.”

  Meredith’s mind was blank for a moment, but then she nodded. Rachel had said she’d try to talk to Laura. “Be careful,” she said.

  “Always.” Rachel gave her a quick hug and hefted Rebecca’s basket. “I’ll just put this in the kitchen on my way out.”

  “You didn’t need to bring something else.” Meredith led Rebecca into the living room and saw her settled into a comfortable chair. “We enjoyed your breakfast casserole already.”

  “Ach, it’s chust a streusel cake. In case you want to give folks something with coffee when they come by.”

  “It’s so kind of you.” She sat down on the sofa facing Rebecca, her mind churning. She’d had the sense that Rebecca had held something back when they’d talked about the night Aaron Mast died. Maybe now was the time to press for the truth.

  “You must give yourself time to adjust,” Rebecca said, her tone matter-of-fact. “It is always more of a shock when someone passes suddenly.”

  Meredith hesitated, wondering how best to put this. “Yes. To see her like that—” She broke off, sure the Deer Run grapevine had carried the news of how Margo King died all over town. “The police think it may not have been an accident.”

  Rebecca looked saddened but not surprised. That news must have spread, as well. “It is hard to believe that someone would want to harm Margo.”

  If she were to gain Rebecca’s help, she’d have to be honest. “We realized this morning that my mother was wearing my jacket last night. It’s possible that whoever attacked her thought he was attacking me.”

  Now the shock filled Rebecca’s face. She reached out to grasp Meredith’s hand. “But who could do such a thing?”

  “Rachel and I fear it might be connected with my trying to find out more about the night Aaron died.”

  Rebecca murmured something softly that might have been a prayer. “It is hard to believe there is so much evil in the world.” She was quiet for a moment, her blue-veined hand still patting Meredith’s. Finally she sighed. “When you asked me about that night, I did not tell you everything. I think you knew that.”

  Meredith nodded, waiting.

  “Sometimes the past is better forgotten, but not if it puts you in danger now. I didn’t see anything that night, but I did hear something.”

  Meredith’s breath caught. “What?”

  “It must have been just about dark. I stepped out on the back porch to see how cool it had gotten before I opened the windows.”

  Meredith nodded. Without air-conditioning, Rebecca would follow the country tradition of closing the house during the day in summer and opening it at night.

  “I could hear that someone was down by the dam—you know how noise carries on a summer night. But I couldn’t identify anyone just by the voice.”

  “How many voices? You must have had a sense of that.”

  “Ja. Two, I’m pretty certain.” She hesitated for a moment. “It seemed like they were arguing.”

  Had Laura been there with Aaron, maybe breaking up with him? “Male or female?”

  Rebecca looked startled, as if she hadn’t questioned that. “Two men. Well, boys or men.”

  That blew up the theory that Laura had been there. Unless, of course, she had come later. Meredith’s spurt of enthusiasm slid away.

  “Was there anything else you could tell from their voices? Did you hear enough to know what they were arguing about?”

  “No, no, not actual words, just the sound of the voices.” Her eyes widened suddenly. “Ach, how foolish I am not to realize. They were speaking Pennsylvania Dutch. They were Amish.”

  For a moment they just stared at each other. Then Rebecca shook her head decisively.

  “But it can’t be. None of the Leit would do such a thing.”

  The Leit—the term the Amish used to identify themselves. Their opposition to violence was absolute. Naturally Rebecca couldn’t believe an Amish person would strike down a brother.

  But Meredith wasn’t so sure. Hard as she tried to push the idea away, she couldn’t help thinking of Samuel.

  * * *

  RACHEL HAD BEEN RIGHT—there had been a steady stream of visitors, including the pastor. Meredith hadn’t known how to tell him that they couldn’t make funeral arrangements until the police released her mother’s body, but he seemed to anticipate that.

  Maybe, after all the years he’d spent in the ministry, it wasn’t possible to surprise him. He’d made some practical suggestions for decisions she could make, and left with a promise to help anytime, in any way. Meredith found herself soothed by his manner, reassured that the world had not turned entirely upside down.

  When yet another knock came at the back door, Meredith found she had to drag herself to answer. It would be someone with still more food, she supposed, and much as she appreciated it, at this moment she needed rest more than calories.


  Her cousin Sarah stood on the porch. The brisk wind that had come up made the strings of her black bonnet flutter wildly. She carried the predictable basket.

  “Sarah.” For some reason, her eyes filled with tears at each new arrival. “Come in. Thank you for coming.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.” Despite the fact that she and Margo hadn’t ever so much as spoken to each other, Sarah’s pain was evident. She took off her bonnet and black coat quickly and turned to envelop Meredith in a warm hug. “You surely aren’t here alone, are you?”

  “Only for a few minutes.” She stretched the truth a little to reassure her. “Rachel will be back soon.”

  “Rachel’s a gut friend, ja?” Sarah began unpacking the basket. “This is chicken potpie ready for your supper. When you’re hurting, you need something that slides down easily, ain’t so?”

  Meredith couldn’t help but smile. Her cousin had a way of seeing what other people didn’t in the small things of life. “You’re right, as always.”

  “That’s because I’m your big cousin. I’m supposed to watch out for you.” A shadow crossed her face. “Daad wanted to come, but he felt a little funny about it, I think, because Margo didn’t like him. He sends his love, and says if you need him anytime, just send word.”

  Meredith’s throat tightened. “My mother’s attitude...” She let that trail off, because they both knew only too well what it had been.

  Sarah set the casserole dish on the counter before she turned to answer. “It’s all right. Your mother has moved beyond such concerns now.”

  Meredith tried to imagine her mother unburdened by her obsession with social position. She hoped it was so.

  Sarah began filling the kettle with an automatic assumption of control in the kitchen. “Sit,” she ordered. “You’ll have a cup of tea, ja? And maybe some shoofly pie? That looks like Rebecca Stoltzfus’s dish.”

  “It is. She’s been over twice already with food.” And with some troubling information. A chill went through Meredith. Samuel. How could she talk to Sarah about Samuel?