Frannie held her breath as a dozen questions filled her head. She wondered why Luke hadn’t come to give her any breaking news. She wondered what the sheriff could have found that had made him stop by and visit her here in the hospital room. He’d already been there this morning with her father.
He took a breath. “Frannie, it’s come to my attention that you and Perry went walking at the Millers’ farm a time or two. Henry Miller saw you there himself . . . as did a few other people.”
Scrambling to keep her emotions in check, she replied, “Yes. We did. Perry liked to go on walks. I . . . I know we were trespassing.” Against her will, images of being with Perry filled her head. Reminding her of how little she’d known him. And how flighty she’d been, so happy that a man like him had turned to her after Lydia Plank had broken his heart. How she’d been so sure she could draw him back to his roots.
She’d been a fool.
“When you went to the farm . . . where did you go?”
Frannie closed the one eye that wasn’t bandaged, mainly in an attempt to buy herself some time. She knew exactly where they went. But could she tell the sheriff? That seemed foolhardy.
“Oh, we only walked around,” she murmured. “The Millers’ property is big, and not used much anymore.”
“It is big. And what you say is true. Much of their fields are fallow. So where did you and Perry walk to?”
Though it was no excuse, she couldn’t help adding, “A lot of people cut through the land. It’s in the center of town.”
“I’m aware other people walk through.” His voice was sharper now. Gone was his usual gossipy nature, when his words were slow and his voice was tinged with humor.
Now his tone echoed Luke’s. The difference was unsettling.
“Sheriff, I haven’t walked through the Millers’ land since. Since, you know . . . when Perry and I were still courting.”
“When you two walked, when you were still courting . . . where did you walk?”
“I’m not sure I remember, exactly.”
“Frannie, some honesty would be mighty appreciated about now. I’ve asked you the same question several times and you’ve done your best to not answer. I’d like you to answer me.”
His voice was as stern as she’d ever heard it. “Yes, sir.”
“Let’s begin, then. Where, exactly, did you two go, when you went walking on the Millers’ land?”
“Sometimes, we . . . we, uh, walked in the woods near the highway.” Remembering how secretive Perry had been, how emotional and tumultuous his moods had been, she added, “Perry liked to walk there, because it was hidden.”
“And?”
“And sometimes we would kiss.” She felt her cheeks flush. Here she was, twenty years old, practically covered in bandages. But still blushing.
“I want to know other places you walked on Millers’ farm, Frannie. Did you two go anywhere else?”
One image flashed forward as clear as day. Even though she’d tried so very hard to forget, it seemed determined to never go away. “Yes . . .”
He crossed one leg over the other and stared at her.
And that’s when she knew he knew the truth.
“Sometimes we walked in the Millers’ west field.” She looked at Sheriff Kramer. “Do you know the one I mean? It’s the field that begins right across from the high school.”
“The one with the well?” he asked softly.
“Jah.” She swallowed hard and told herself to speak clearly. To force back the worst images and concentrate on the facts. “The last time Perry and I went walking on the Millers’ farm together, we were in that field near the high school.”
“When was this?”
She swallowed hard. “December.”
“When in December?”
“The thirty-first.”
His gaze sharpened. “On New Year’s Eve. So you saw him right before he went missing.”
She nodded, feeling the dark emotions that had cloaked her while she’d been in Perry’s company return. “That last time we were together, it was near twilight. We were walking alone.” She paused for a moment as the memory sharpened. “Well, Perry was walking quickly and I was struggling to keep up.”
“Why do you think he was in such a hurry?”
“I don’t know. Back then I could never guess how he would act. Or the reasons.”
“Then what happened?”
“When I caught up with him, I knew he wasn’t safe to be around.”
“And why was that?”
“His eyes were glassy.” Though it hurt to do so, she wrinkled her nose. “It had become obvious that he’d been taking drugs again.”
He started scribbling in his notebook.
Hoping to finish the interview quickly, she said, “Anyway, we stopped, and I told him I was going to go home. We got in a terrible fight.”
“What was the fight about?”
It had been about a great many things, she thought. But mainly it had been about the fact that she didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. “We fought because neither of us was going to change.” Before she lost her nerve, she shared the rest of the story. “Sheriff Kramer, we were fighting where he was found.”
“Where exactly?”
She was confused by his question. They all knew the place where Perry’s body had been discovered. “You know. Right by the well.” Oh, but she felt sick at heart now. When she’d left Perry, she’d been so disappointed by how things had ended up between them that she’d never spared a thought of what might happen to him out alone on the Millers’ land in his state.
Maybe his killer had been lurking there, just waiting for his chance to attack Perry?
She looked at Sheriff Kramer and couldn’t take it any longer. “Do you think I had something to do with his death? Is that what you are worried about? Is that why you came here to the hospital?”
“I didn’t say that.”
He was speaking so . . . so differently, not in his usual way. He was frightening her. “Mose, I mean, Sheriff, I promise you this, I did not kill Perry. I would never have killed him. We might have had our differences, but that didn’t mean I wanted him dead. You know that. Right?”
With some dismay, she realized her hands were shaking. She could never have imagined anyone would think she was capable of doing such a thing.
She paused, half waiting for him to rush to her defense. Half waiting for him to tell her that of course no one would ever think she could harm another person. After all, she was a nurturing sort.
But the sheriff didn’t respond. Only continued to scribble on his notepad.
Panic engulfed her. “Sheriff Kramer, you believe me, don’tcha?” Tension infused her voice as she rushed on. “You agree that I could never harm Perry. You agree that I’m not capable of hurting him. Right?”
Instead of nodding he looked directly at her. “Besides you wanting to go home . . . what did you and Perry talk about? Do you remember?”
Unfortunately, she remembered every bit of their conversation so clearly it could have been stamped into her head. “Perry, he wanted me to change. And to think about moving.”
Sheriff Kramer, busy writing, stopped. “Change, how?”
“He wanted me to leave the order. He wanted me to change who I was,” she explained in a rush. “Perry wanted me to become English and follow him to wherever he wanted to go.” Of course, she’d realized that those things were just the beginning. She knew that if she couldn’t change to suit his new life, she’d lose him.
“And what did you say when he asked you to change? To leave Crittenden County?”
“I told him I didn’t want to leave. And that I didn’t want to become English,” she confessed. “I said that I liked who I was, and that I had thought he’d liked me, too.”
Though she was talking to the
sheriff and not a girlfriend, she finally voiced the private worries she’d been harboring. “Why did he ask me to court him if he didn’t like who I was in the first place? It makes no sense.”
Sheriff Kramer crossed his legs.
She knew he was waiting. “I told Perry that I couldn’t move. I told him that I loved my bed-and-breakfast and was hoping it would become a success.”
“And Perry, did he understand your reasons?”
She shook her head slowly. Even now his dismissal of everything that was important to her stung like a slap in the face. “Not at all. He said it was destined for failure. That no tourists would come to Crittenden County.”
“Ah.”
Frannie watched him pull the cap off the pen and scribble more on his paper. And the butterflies got worse in her stomach. She didn’t want to remember any more. She wanted to pretend that the rest of what had happened could be erased.
As she continued to hesitate, he eyed her. “And then what happened, Frannie? After he asked you to change, after you told him you wanted to leave . . . what happened?”
He wanted answers. She knew she had two choices. She could either tell the complete truth—tell Sheriff Kramer about the sunglasses that Perry gave her, tell how she’d tossed them into the woods because she’d been hurt and confused.
Or she could tell only half of the truth. Say that she ran.
If she told the full story, it would undoubtedly bring more questions. Questions about where he got the sunglasses, about the Englischers he was spending time with who she knew nothing about. If she never mentioned throwing the sunglasses or running into Jacob Schrock . . . if she said she just went home, perhaps Sheriff Kramer would be satisfied and leave. Leave her in peace. Maybe then she wouldn’t have to think about the whole incident anymore.
Maybe then she could finally move on. And not have a smidge of guilt.
There really wasn’t a choice.
“Then what happened?” she repeated, attempting to smile. “Oh, nothing much. After I told him I wouldn’t change and wouldn’t move, he was angry and upset. So I turned away and ran.”
He leaned forward. “And what did he do? Did he follow?”
“I don’t know what he did, Sheriff. I never looked back.” Her voice had been even and calm. It almost sounded truthful, even to her ears.
He looked at her sharply. “You are sure that is everything that happened?”
“Yes, Sheriff. That is all,” she lied. No longer caring if she was going to get into trouble later for lying. No longer caring what Sheriff Kramer thought of her anymore.
All that mattered right that minute was that she find a way to get the sheriff to leave her room. Even sitting by herself in a beige hospital room would be better than remembering the look on Perry’s face when she’d tossed those sunglasses into the woods.
Two minutes later, he fulfilled her wish and got to his feet. “If you happen to remember anything else, use that card I gave you and call me. Or you could tell Luke, too.” Without waiting for her response, he shuffled out, his manner looking exhausted.
He didn’t even say goodbye.
It left her unsettled and anxious, worse than she’d felt after Micah had left earlier.
Oh, how she just wanted to go home and return to her regular routine. She wanted to wait on guests at the inn and pretend that nothing mattered except cleaning rooms, making coffee, organizing the linen closets.
Five minutes after the curtains parted and his footsteps faded away, Frannie could still feel the sting of unshed tears in her eyes, her nose. A puddle welled in her good eye, and she absently wondered if crying would hurt her injured one. She didn’t care—there was nothing she could to stop the tears from spilling over.
She cried softly, hoping all the while that the patient on the other side of the curtain had been asleep and hadn’t heard her conversation with Mose. Or at the very least, wouldn’t comment on it if she had.
Chapter 12
“This would be a better world if everyone were as good as he wished his neighbor was.”
AARON SCHROCK
I was beginning to think you were determined to stay a stranger. Staying away ain’t no way to get to know people,” Mr. Schrock chided when Luke wandered into the family store just minutes before closing.
The comment was said in jest, but the words caught Luke off guard. His first days in Crittenden County had been difficult. No one had spoken to him—in fact most had gone out of their way to avoid him. But little by little, folks were starting to warm up. Now it even seemed that some folks were determined for him to become a part of the community, at least for a little while.
“I never wanted to be a stranger here,” Luke said. “I just thought it would be a good idea if I waited a while in between visits.”
“And why is that?”
“Because,” he quipped, looking around the store, “I have learned that you never know what will pop out from the ceiling or run across my feet when I visit your store!”
“Come now, things aren’t that bad.”
“You’ve got more going on in this place than an amusement park. I needed to give myself some time for my heart to recover.” He gave an exaggerated wince. “A man can only take so much, you know.”
Rocking back on his heels, Mr. Schrock chuckled. “I guess some men are more able to handle an exciting life than others.”
“Without a doubt.” Thinking about what the other men on his squad would think about his efforts to fit in, Luke shook his head. He’d only been in Marion three weeks, but he’d noticed changes in his habits and demeanor. He was listening more to his heart and his internal clock. Rising earlier without the need for an alarm, and ending his days earlier. When the sky darkened and the streets turned still, he found himself looking forward to a stretch of peace and quiet.
He was making friends, too—or at least the first steps of friendship—in the most unlikely places. Never would he have imagined he’d feel so relaxed around an Amish owner of the most unusual general store in the state.
He wasn’t sure how he should feel about these changes. He didn’t belong here—his life was in the city. But it felt oddly like he was laying down roots. It was unsettling, but only because he didn’t seem to mind.
“So, how are the guinea pigs doing? Any more of them on the loose?”
“They’re all sold, though no thanks to them. One of ’em in particular seemed determined to remain hidden. Every time we tried to catch the fellow, he’d dart away. Finally had to move one of the shelves, then chase the rascal until Walker could grab him.”
Luke could only imagine what the man had thought of that chore. “Good thing it worked.”
“Oh, for sure.” He grunted. “Wife was getting right tired of that critter, I’ll tell you that.”
“I can’t say I blame the little guy all that much. Being free does have a certain appeal, I suppose.”
“So does having a home,” Mr. Schrock replied. “Those little pigs should have realized that they were going to good homes. If they’d been calmer and less pesky, they could have lived like kings.” A line formed between his brows. “You know what they say? . . . ‘Don’t grumble because you don’t have what you want, be thankful you don’t get what you deserve.’ ”
Amused by both Mr. Schrock’s latest bit of Amish wisdom, and the idea of a wayward guinea pig living like a king, Luke said, “How was the little guy when you finally caught up with him?”
“Hungry as a boar. He ’bout bit Walker’s finger off when he captured him. That boy needed a good-sized bandage.” Mr. Schrock grimaced at the memory as he rested his elbows on the counter. “Now, what can I help you with? Need some cottage cheese, by chance?”
Cottage cheese? “No. Uh, not today. Actually, I was hoping I might have a word with Jacob.”
Mr. Schrock straightened, all traces of amusement an
d congeniality vanishing in a heartbeat. “My son?”
“Yes,” Luke said smoothly. “Is he here? I heard he returned from his trip.”
“Jah. Jah . . . he’s back.”
Though he got his answer, Luke noticed he wasn’t getting much else. The warm bond that had been floating between them dissipated like a cold wind. Now Mr. Schrock was in full protective-parent mode.
It didn’t matter if a man’s child was six, twenty-six, or forty-six. If a detective was asking about him, men clammed up. Right before Luke’s eyes, Mr. Schrock straightened and turned statuelike. Instead of offering more information, he eyed Luke apprehensively.
Pushing aside a momentary punch of hurt, Luke reminded himself that he’d been foolish to think that he’d made a real connection with the man. With this town.
So he pulled out years of experience and mirrored the older man’s expression. Becoming still, pretending he didn’t notice what had just happened between them.
“So, where’s Jacob been? I’m afraid I never did hear that.”
“He was just out working,” Mr. Schrock said quickly. “He was doing some work in Lexington. Important work.”
“Important?”
Mr. Schrock’s chin raised. “Store business.”
“Ah. Right.” Luke smiled tightly as he realized that he’d just been fed a line. “Where is he now?”
“This minute?”
“Yes, sir. This minute.”
“He’s in the back.” After a pause, Mr. Schrock said, “Would you like to talk with him up here? Or out in the parking lot like you did with Walker?” His eyes brightened. “Or how about I just tell him that you want to see him later on. Maybe tomorrow?”
A sixth sense told Luke that he had better not give the man any time to speak privately with his son. “If you don’t mind, I’ll follow you to the back and ask Jacob where he’d like to talk.”
“That’s not necessary.”
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