by Debby Giusti
“Rosie, you are innocent of any wrongdoing except of loving the wrong person.”
“You are right.” She nodded. “William was the wrong person. When I saw his picture this evening, I knew I had to tell you.”
Ezra stood and took her hand. “The picture explained much to me, as well. My mother was still alive when I arrived home that day. As I kneeled beside her, she clutched my hand, her eyes starting to glaze over. ‘Doppelgӓnger,’ she tried to say. ‘Weisses haar.’”
Ezra’s heart ached, recalling how she had struggled to make him understand. “The EMTs administered oxygen, but she pushed the mask aside. Raising up ever so slightly, she repeated, ‘Doppelgänger, weisses haar.’ Tonight, when I saw the picture, I understood what she was trying to say. Doppelgänger. Two people who look similar, like twins.”
“And white hair?” Rosie asked. “You think she was talking about the men in the picture?”
He nodded. “Twins, each with a streak of white hair.”
“Your mother was revealing information about the killers.” Rosie’s eyes widened. “The day we found out I was pregnant, Will told me he would soon have money so we could leave town and start a new life together.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Ezra, I’m so sorry.” She turned toward the stairs.
He grabbed her arm. “Rosie, talk to me.”
“Do you not realize what that picture tells me? A third man was involved. That man was Will.” She pulled her arm from his hold and ran up the stairs.
Ezra stared after her. Will MacIntosh had killed his parents? Could that be so? A chill settled over him.
He walked outside, needing fresh air and a moment to think about what Rosie had said. He stared into the night, then turned his gaze to his father’s workshop. Ezra had locked the door that day and had never gone into it after the police investigation.
Needing to face the past, he retrieved the key. Stepping inside, his gut tightened as he saw the blood stains on the floor. He fisted his hands, then stepped toward the row of buggies. With a little work, a few of them would soon be ready for sale. Aaron was right. Stoltz Buggies could flourish again.
He ran his hand over his father’s workbench. His tools—saws and plains, drills and bits, hammers and screws and nails—all neatly in their places, just as they had been the day his parents died.
He peered into the “hole,” as he and his father called the propane-run hydraulic lift that lowered buggies from the main floor down to the basement below. A buggy sat on the lower level, partially framed—it was the buggy Ezra was supposed to have been working on that fateful day. Instead, he had been with his so-called friends.
Shame covered him. He had not been able to protect his parents because he was carousing in town. Wanting to gain respect among the Englischers who frequented the bar, he had bragged about his father’s business and the money it earned.
His gut tightened. The day before the murders, Ezra had mentioned the cash his father kept in his workshop, money the twins had come looking for. Had Will come with them?
Ezra thought again of that day at the bar. He could see the profile of a man sitting near him, who had turned to listen—his eyes sparked with interest—when Ezra talked about the money his father kept on hand. That one statement had led to his parents’ deaths.
Realization hit Ezra hard.
The man at the bar had been Will MacIntosh.
NINETEEN
That night, sleep eluded Ezra. Instead, thoughts of Rosie circled through his mind. Not only her internal beauty, but also her pretty face and expressive eyes and the way his heart pounded faster whenever she was near. He thought of her in his arms, their lips almost touching.
He ached thinking of what would never be.
She did not need a man who had bragged about his parents and caused their deaths. Whether Will MacIntosh was a killer made no difference. Ezra’s parents would not come back to life, and their wayward eldest child would forever carry the guilt for that terrible day that had changed his life forever.
He rose earlier than usual the next morning, needing to leave the comfort of his bed in order to help Rosie. The least he could do would be to pick up the lab results from the clinic in town.
With quick, sure moves, he saddled Duke and took the back path to town. The air was cold, but Ezra did not concern himself about his own comfort. He thought only of Rosie and her baby.
Once in town, Ezra guided Duke past the nursing home. He glanced at the sign in front of the manor. Dr. Manny, MD. The physician who ordered all the pain pills and extra medication for the patients. Manny had to be involved.
More than likely there were other criminals stealing drugs from the infirmed who ran larger operations with greater profit. However, for a mountain town with a small population, the doctor and nursing-home manager, along with the man with the streak of white hair, were doing well financially with their simple racket. Prescribe drugs, steal them from the patients and sell them to buyers in distant towns.
The local pharmacist was probably handsomely rewarded for her participation and for turning a blind eye to the illegalities of overprescribing highly addictive opioids. She was being bribed to keep her mouth shut and not alert the authorities.
The operation could have continued indefinitely except for an Amish woman who wanted to ensure her favorite patient had medication he needed for pain. Along with Rosie, thanks needed to be given to a nurse who had uncovered incongruences that did not add up. Nan had died because of what she had found.
Ezra’s veins chilled. They had killed Nan. They would kill Rosie too. As soon as he had the lab results and any new medication the doctor ordered for Joseph, Ezra would return home and pack up the entire family for a Christmas holiday visit. His mother’s family lived in Tennessee. Surely they would open their homes to them.
From there Ezra would notify the Tennessee authorities, who would pass the information on to the sheriff in Willkommen. Once the guilty were behind bars, Ezra and his family could return to the mountain, along with Rosie and Joseph.
Ezra turned at the third intersection and hurried toward the door of the clinic. Hours of operation—6:00 a.m. until midnight. Ezra had arrived just as it was opening.
After tying his horse to the hitching rail, he hurried inside and stopped at the receptionist’s desk.
A woman wearing pink scrubs glanced up. “May I help you?”
“I need to pick up lab results for Joseph Glick.”
“Dr. Philips will not be in today, but Dr. Manny is available.”
“The doctor from the nursing home?”
She nodded. “That’s right. Dr. Manny and Dr. Philips own the urgent-care clinic and share responsibilities. A number of other doctors fill in as well.” She glanced down the hall and smiled. “There’s Dr. Manny now.”
The receptionist explained what Ezra needed and handed the lab results to the doctor. He glanced over the forms.
“The preliminary throat culture shows gram-positive cocci,” he explained. “No doubt group-A strep. Ensure the baby takes all the antibiotic. A slightly elevated white count, but nothing to be alarmed about. If anything changes, have the mother bring him back. She and her child are staying with you?”
Ezra did not want the doctor who worked at the nursing home to know Rosie and Joseph’s whereabouts. “I can contact the mother and give her the information,” Ezra assured the doctor.
Once he had the lab results in hand, he hurried to his horse and headed out of town. At the turnoff to the back road, he glanced over his shoulder. His chest clenched as he spied a dark sedan. The car accelerated.
Ezra clucked his tongue and encouraged Duke, but before they could make the turn, the car swerved, cutting them off and forcing Duke into the ditch. The horse lost his footing on the embankment and fell on his side, hooves flailing in the air.
Ezra was thrown to the
ground. Air whooshed from his lungs. He gasped, worried about his horse, but equally worried about the manager of the nursing home, who stepped from his car, gun in hand.
“You’ve caused enough problems, Stoltz. I’ll take care of you. Wagner will take care of your girlfriend.”
* * *
Rosie jerked awake. Jumping from the bed, she hurried to the crib and touched Joseph’s forehead. He was warm, but the fever had dropped significantly.
She would let him sleep while she helped Susan with breakfast, but when she went downstairs the kitchen was empty. Rosie added logs to the kitchen stove and arranged the wood so it caught.
Once the fire took hold, she boiled water for coffee, poured it over the grounds in the aluminum drip coffeemaker and moved the pot to the warming area at the back of the stove.
The smell of the hearty coffee filled the kitchen. She opened a number of drawers, searching for a bus brochure. Finding it in the hutch, she pulled it out and read the schedule.
A bus traveled to Cincinnati, Columbus and Berlin, Ohio, weekly. She ran her fingers along the page, needing to find the departure information.
“Today at 2:00 p.m.,” she said to herself. The bus would leave some hours from now. She would need to arrive early to buy her ticket. Joseph could sit on her lap.
She would ask Aaron to drive her to town in the buggy. Not Ezra. Knowing Will could have been involved in his parents’ deaths made her too upset to talk to Ezra face-to-face. Instead, she would leave a note, expressing her gratitude for all he had done.
She pulled paper and a pen from the drawer, but tears blurred her eyes as she wrote. Her heart nearly broke as she thought about leaving.
Susan’s footsteps overhead signaled the girl was up and would soon be downstairs. Rosie sealed the note in an envelope and wrote Ezra’s name on the outside, then placed it on the bookcase in the living area. He would find it tonight when he reached for his Bible before going to bed.
Her hands were shaking as she wiped the tears and focused on pouring a cup of coffee when Susan hurried downstairs, apologizing as she entered the kitchen.
“I must have overslept, which is not something I usually do.” Susan tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “How is Joseph?” she asked.
“His temperature is not so high. The antibiotic the doctor gave him must be working.”
“I am glad.” Susan poured coffee for herself. “I heard Ezra earlier and asked if he wanted breakfast, but he declined the offer. I laid my head down for a few more minutes and just awoke.”
“Ezra was up early?” Rosie asked.
Susan nodded. “He wanted to go to town. Something about lab results for Joseph and medicine if the doctor ordered anything new.”
Rosie glanced at the barn. The buggy was visible through the open door. “He must have saddled Duke and ridden over the mountain.”
“That is the fastest route. Hopefully, he will be back before breakfast is ready.”
“The children are doing chores?”
“I am sure they are eager to get everything done. Mary mentioned a final pageant practice this morning before school starts. I think she wants to go early and talk to the teacher.”
“Probably about Joseph not being able to participate.”
“Perhaps. Last night, she confided that the teacher changed the date of the performance because so many families were leaving to visit relatives. The pageant will be held this evening.”
“Tonight?”
“With the concern about Joseph being sick, she and Davey failed to share the change in plans.”
Rosie’s heart ached, knowing she and Joseph would be on a bus this evening, heading to Ohio.
As if aware of Rosie’s upset, Susan paused from cutting slices of ham for breakfast. “Are you worried about the baby’s safety?”
Rosie shook her head. “No, but it is time for us to leave the mountain and travel someplace new.”
“Then you were serious about leaving, as you mentioned yesterday?” Susan asked.
“It is what I must do.”
“And what of us, Rosie? Have you thought how your leaving will hurt the children? It will also hurt Ezra.”
“You are a dutiful sister, Susan, who loves her brother, but his interests would be better served by me leaving. As I have mentioned before, Ezra needs to focus on his own life and his own future.”
“I agree, but that is why you should stay.”
Rosie wrinkled her brow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that Ezra needs time to determine the direction he should take in the future.”
“Exactly. Which is why I need to leave so he has time to decide for himself. Right now, he is worried about my safety and Joseph’s. That occupies his thoughts. He needs to be free of us.”
“I think more than your safety is playing through his mind.”
Susan placed a skillet on the stove and added the ham. She scooped a large wedge of butter into a second skillet and sighed with frustration when she reached for the basket of eggs and found it empty.
“I will gather the eggs,” Rosie said.
“It is Mary’s job.”
“Yah, and Mary is helping in other ways. Joseph is still sleeping. If you hear him cry, call me.”
Rosie hurried outside. She peered into the barn as she passed, seeing the mare she had ridden to Katherine’s house. She still needed to talk to her aunt.
The hens clucked as she entered the chicken house and searched the nests. “We need your eggs for breakfast, you sweet ladies,” she cooed. “Your eggs are making the children strong and smart and ready for the new day.”
Mary joined her there. “I was going to get the eggs soon, but I had to clean one of the stalls. Thank you for helping me with my chores.”
“It is no problem. You have been such a help to me with Joseph.”
“Is he still sick?”“
“His temperature is down a little, which means he feels better. I am sure he would like to see you once the sleepyhead gets up.”
“I will come inside soon.”
Rosie took the eggs to the kitchen and stopped short, hearing Joseph’s cry.
“He just started,” Susan assured her. “Bring him down for breakfast. The food is almost ready.”
Rosie washed her hands and then hurried upstairs, relieved to see Joseph’s cheeks were not as flushed as last night and his eyes were brighter.
“You are feeling better today,” she said, clapping her hands. “Mamm’s big boy is ready to get up?”
Rosie carried him downstairs.
Susan’s glanced up from the stove and smiled. “You look better this morning, Joseph. Perhaps you will have something to eat.”
“Let me put him in the high chair. A portion of biscuit and a little water might be a good start. If he is interested in food, I will give him more to eat.”
As soon as she placed the food in front of him, the baby reached for the biscuit and cup and could not eat and drink fast enough.
Grateful that he was feeling better, Rosie turned to Susan. “I hate to ask again, but would you mind watching Joseph for a short time this morning? I need to talk to Katherine. I was there the other day, but she was not home.”
“You will take the buggy?”
Rosie shook her head. “I would like to saddle Duchess instead. The back path will get me there more quickly. I hope to return before the children leave for school.”
“Your leg is better?” Susan asked.
“Much better.”
“Of course I will watch Joseph. He is such an easy baby and is so full of love.” Susan began to plate the food. “Do not forget the riding pants that are on the dresser in my room.”
“You do not mind?” Rosie asked.
“Of course not.”
After donning the leggings, Rosie g
rabbed her cape and hurried outside. Aaron helped her saddle Duchess.
“You will be back soon?” he asked, giving her a hoist onto the mare.
“Before you finish breakfast.”
At least she hoped that would prove true.
TWENTY
Ezra fought against the rope wrapped around his hands and legs. The manager of the nursing home had brought him to the cabin and tied him up. Now O’Donnell was frantically gathering pills off the table and shoving them into a suitcase.
“I know about your drug operation,” Ezra taunted, hoping to unsettle O’Donnell. “The police have been alerted.”
The manager laughed nervously. “Some of the police have known the entire time. They enjoy the extra money they receive by looking in the other direction.”
“The pharmacist is onto you.”
O’Donnell chuckled again. “You Amish are so unworldly. We couldn’t do this without the pharmacist.”
“She does not want to be involved with anything illegal. Can you tell from the questions she asks and her concern about how much the operation has grown?”
Ezra hoped a portion of what he said sounded plausible. According to Peter, the pharmacist seemed upset. Surely that had to do with what was occurring and her involvement. Providing just a little doubt could be enough to unnerve O’Donnell completely.
“You didn’t talk to Rayleen,” he insisted.
“Why do you say that? She fills prescriptions for many of the Amish. We are not blind to what is going on. The nurse, Nan Smith, died because she demanded information, but before you killed her, she had called the police and told them her concerns.”
“I don’t believe you. I told you the police are in favor of our operation. It serves them well.”
“I am not talking about the local police. You are right. Most of them are corrupt. But the sheriff in Willkommen. Do you know him? He is hard-working and honest. He listens to the truth.”