Wicked Legacy (Serenity's Plain Secrets Book 10)

by Karen Ann Hopkins

  “Why is that?” I held my breath.

  “She’d just turned eighteen. That’s when Fannie King said she would leave us.”

  Fannie King was on my list to visit that afternoon. “You were friends with Melinda’s grandmother?”

  “I knew her, yes. Right after the girl moved in with Sam and Miriam, I ran into her at the market. It was at that meeting when she mentioned that Melinda wouldn’t be with us long. She’d actually mentioned the girl’s eighteenth birthday as being significant. A few days after Melinda celebrated her birthday, she vanished.”

  “Anna, what do you think happened to her? Did Melinda leave willingly or were more sinister forces at work in her disappearance,” I asked in a low voice.

  My mother-in-law met my gaze. “I don’t know anything for sure. It’s simply a feeling of mine, so please do not ask for proof. I believe the King girl was a pawn in a wicked legacy of sorts. One that has haunted Mt. Carmel for a long time and will continue to do so if the evil isn’t rooted out.”

  7

  I sat in the driver’s seat, waiting impatiently for Bobby to answer the phone. Toby appeared to be ignoring me as he scribbled in his notebook that was like mine in size and thickness. I wasn’t fooled. When Bobby greeted us and I began to talk, the marshal closely listened to our conversation.

  “What do you remember about a young Amish man named Mark Yoder? He drowned in a pond out behind his house in late December 2000.” Bobby’s mind was a computer search engine when it came to cases he’d worked. Fingers crossed, he had something for me.

  I could almost picture the pudgy old man twisting the end of his mustache in his fingers as he made thinking noises out loud. “I recall he was nineteen years old and generally in good health, although his mother had confirmed that he suffered from asthma, which showed up in the autopsy.”

  The cause of his death was questionable. “Did you suspect foul play?”

  He made a smacking sound. “He was young and since he wasn’t ice fishing or skating at the time, it raised everyone’s brows that he was in the pond in the first place. The circumstances prompted the autopsy. I can review his file, but I remember determining that the boy had in fact died from inhalation of water.”

  “Is there anything else that sticks out about the case?”

  “His family members reported that he’d been depressed for months about a breakup with his girlfriend. She’d gone English the previous summer and he’d been extremely distressed. He even came into the department one afternoon, I guess sometime in November.”

  I worked to keep my voice level. “Did he file a missing person report?”

  “No, but he talked to Sheriff Tony Manning. It was my understanding Tony went out to the settlement and snooped around a little but came up empty.”

  Tony Manning was my arch nemesis. He’d been my predecessor before I beat him in the election. He wasn’t too happy about losing, either. The man was a fixture of Blood Rock’s good ol’ boys’ club, and he’d served as county sheriff for nearly two decades before I managed to unseat him. He was as crooked as they came, and his ties to the local Amish ran deep. I couldn’t stop myself from flinching in my seat at the memory of his angry face glaring down at me when, along with a group of Amish elites that included the bishop and my father-in-law, had held me captive in a dark barn. If Tony were thirty pounds skinnier, he would have been Clint Eastwood’s twin. His severe face and aggressive nature made him truly intimidating. One of the happiest days of my life had been when the old codger had retired to Florida. Just the thought of Tony Manning and my nostrils flared with the imagined scent of peppermints.

  “Too bad Tony isn’t still around. I have some questions for him,” I said.

  “Actually,” —I swear my heart skipped a beat— “he’s in town for his nephew’s wedding. If you stop by the Methodist Church, you might just catch him.” I heard the muffled humor in Bobby’s voice.

  “I’m not going to crash a wedding to interview the jerk.”

  “It’s the rehearsal. Wedding is tomorrow.”

  “How the hell do you know all this?” Bobby was like an old gossipy woman most of the time. He had his finger on the pulse of the town’s activities.

  “I like to keep track of Tony when he returns to Blood Rock. The two of you have had your troubles in the past. Don’t you think it’s wise to keep your enemies close?” he said in a sweet voice.

  I barked out a laugh. “Thanks, Bobby.”

  When I hung up, Toby turned my way. “Oh, goodie. I love side trips.”

  I exhaled slowly through my nose. I hated the thought of talking to Tony Manning but having the U.S. Marshal by my side made it slightly easier to bear.

  Toby owed me one. This case was turning out to be more challenging than I ever imagined.

  We didn’t even have to step away from the side of the cruiser to meet Tony. The minute he spotted us pull up, he left the small crowd gathered outside of the church. My eyes had immediately picked him out of the group. Tony was tall and his hair was now almost white. His movements were relaxed, but anyone paying attention would notice the pent-up energy right beneath the surface of the man. Tony Manning walked like a caged lion, slow and steady, ready to strike in a heartbeat.

  I leaned up against the cruiser and crossed my arms. Toby followed suit. We both had our sunglasses on. I was in full uniform. I’d drank enough coffee that morning to feel jittery. The talk with Toby on the way over here hadn’t calmed my nerves either. When I started reciting my history with the former sheriff of Blood Rock, the tale sounded even more sordid out loud than it had in my mind. Toby had whistled and responded with a smug smile, “This is going to be fun.”

  Unlike me, the marshal appeared so relaxed that he could have drifted off to sleep, and with his eyes hidden behind the wide shades, no one would have been the wiser. Of course, it was all a ruse. Toby was always the most alert person in the room. He just hid it well.

  “My, oh my. I never dreamed when I woke up this fine morning that Serenity Adams would be gracing me with her presence.” Tony spoke loudly to cover the closing distance between us. He too wore sunglasses, but I still caught the subtle shift of his head to check out the marshal as he approached. Tony wore a pair of starchy-looking denim jeans and a pale blue button up long sleeve shirt. He openly carried an old-fashioned looking revolver on his hip. Yep, I’d gotten used to it a while ago. Blood Rock sometimes resembled the Wild West.

  Tony stepped right into my personal bubble. With the vehicle at my back, there was nowhere to go. I would have held my ground anyway, but dammit, we hadn’t even officially started talking and the man was trying to intimidate me. Keeping my back straight, I crossed my arms.

  In a much lower voice that lacked even an ounce of politeness, Tony growled, “What the fuck are you doing here, Sheriff? It’s a Goddamn wedding rehearsal.”

  I drew in a quick breath and forced a smile. “It’s nice to see you too, Tony.” I gave a slight nod to Toby. “This is U.S. Marshal, Toby Bryant. We’re working a case together and have a few questions for you.”

  Tony completely ignored Toby, directing his frustration solely at me. “I don’t give a fuck about this cowboy fed or your case. Get the hell out of here.”

  From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of the corner of Toby’s mouth twitching, but otherwise, he remained relaxed. On to plan B. “It’s your nephew, Brian Manning, tying the knot tomorrow, right?” Tony didn’t say anything. A growing number of his male relatives and friends had turned our way. Was it mere curiosity? I doubted it. Manning’s entire family was an entitled bunch who thought they were above the law. I figured we had about two minutes before more bodies began wandering this way. “Officer Dickens tells me that Brian was pulled over for DUI last week. It was his third infraction, and his license was taken away from him.”

  Tony laughed heartily. “So what?”

 
“We take drunk driving seriously around here, Tony. You know that. Unfortunately, Officer Dickens spotted your nephew driving his pickup truck over to the church this morning. Since the wedding is tomorrow and all, we thought we’d let it slide with another warning.” I pursed my lips and gently shook my head. “Now that I’m here, I’m starting to feel like taking Brian back to the department with me is the right thing to do.”

  Tony’s face turned beet red and the veins in his forehead popped. He licked his lips, turned away, and then shook his head. I wasn’t expecting the deep chuckle. “Damn, maybe you’re evolving, Serenity. If I answer your questions, you’ll suddenly change your mind about disrupting my nephew’s wedding, is that right?”

  I pushed away from the cruiser and stepped right into Tony’s personal space. “I don’t want a misunderstanding here. You better rein Brian in. Convince him not to get behind a wheel until he’s gone through counseling, rehab, and has officially regained his license. He’s a threat to the safety of others, and I’m sure you don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

  Tony gave an impatient nod. “Fine. I’ll have a talk with Brian. Just let him have his big day.”

  Satisfied he would follow through, I dove right in. “What do you remember about Mark Yoder’s drowning death?”

  The side of his mouth quirked. “Funny how cases always come full circle in time.” He cocked his head. “Let me guess, this has something to do with Melinda King’s disappearance.”

  My silence was affirmation.

  “What does a federal agent care about a couple of Amish kids?” Tony finally acknowledged Toby’s existence.

  “Melinda King works at an establishment where a young woman and a fugitive were both killed. We’re connecting the dots, so to speak.” Toby replied in a casual way.

  “I see.” He paused and a wicked smile spread on his weathered face. “I’m feeling generous all of a sudden, Sheriff. That Yoder boy didn’t drown in some freak accident. He was murdered.”

  I took a step back. “You never brought charges—”

  “I followed the trail to Mt. Carmel and that’s where it ended. Not only were those damn Amish tight lipped, but so were ours. They all wanted to sweep it under the rug, pretend the boy slipped into a frozen pond and died.”

  “Why?” I wasn’t expecting Tony to be so blunt or to just come out and say what I had feared all along.

  “Because of Melinda King. Once that doomed boy lost his girlfriend, he wouldn’t let the matter drop. He was convinced she had been kidnapped. He even came into to town to file a missing person’s report.”

  “You didn’t follow through on it?” I tried not to sound accusing.

  “Hell, I did all I could do. Most of the Amish wouldn’t talk to me about it, and the only ones that did insisted she’d run off to be English. It happened all the time and with no evidence to the contrary, I let the matter drop.”

  “What makes you think the Mt. Carmel Amish have anything to do Mark Yoder’s death?” I asked.

  “The boy’s mother told me that Mark had visitors from Mt. Carmel the day before he drowned. She begged me to look into it.” He leaned over and lowered his voice. “She thought her son’s death and Melinda’s disappearance were connected, and they both led to Mt. Carmel.”

  “Did they talk to you?” I held my breath.

  “Nope. The reception I got was just short of hostile. The Amish over there is a whole different breed.” Tony began to turn away as if our conversation had ended when he stopped and looked back. “I’ll throw you a bone. Ezra King is the man you want to seek out, but don’t get your hopes up. No one’s going to tell you anything important.”

  Tony Manning walked away in the same unaffected way he’d arrive. I watched him go. For once, the man had been a little helpful. Sure, it took threatening to ruin his nephew’s wedding to get him to open up, but at least he’d confirmed my suspicions that Mark Yoder was murdered.

  If someone had been willing to get rid of the young Amish man because he wouldn’t shut up about Melinda King, it was pretty safe to assume that she didn’t leave Blood Rock willingly.

  Next stop, Mt. Carmel.

  8

  “I bet you wouldn’t have to dig too deep to find something to arrest your predecessor on,” Toby said from the passenger seat.

  We’d driven out of my jurisdiction a while ago and were heading south. Bright sunlight glared into the cab, filling it with warmth. I was feeling anything but comfortable, though. The brief discussion with Tony Manning had my mind shooting in several different directions.

  “Oh, yeah, for sure. I thank God nearly every day that Tony moved to Florida. He only comes back to Blood Rock for short, family-related stints. He got out of Dodge just in time. If he’d stuck around, I would have had no choice but to go after him.”

  “Seems like he’s still a pain your backside,” Toby said.

  I snorted. “At least he gave us a little bit to go on. Even with the threat against his nephew, I wasn’t sure he’d take the bait.”

  “Don’t underestimate your own power. You’re the sheriff now, and you’ve solved enough big cases that he has to take you seriously. I thought you said he was friends with the Amish?”

  “Tony used to have strong ties to Blood Rock’s community, but each settlement is different. It sounds like he didn’t have a working relationship with the Mt. Carmel Amish.” We passed by mile after mile of dried cornstalks. In the distance, the tree-covered hills were spattered with reds and yellows. Autumn splendor was almost upon us. “What do you think we’re dealing with here?”

  “For some reason, the Amish wanted to cover up whatever happened to Melinda. We’ve already seen that they’re capable of murder in certain situations. It’s not too much of a leap to believe Tony’s statement about Mark Yoder’s drowning not being accidental.”

  “Tony’s a dick, but I don’t think he’d lie about something like that. He’d have nothing to gain. It’s not even a cold case. Bobby ruled the death a drowning.” I gripped the steering wheel when the Mt. Carmel sign came into view. Farmsteads began popping up. Unlike Blood Rock’s settlement, where every farm was immaculate, or the northern settlement of Poplar Springs which was more touristy, this community immediately stood out for its ramshackle appearance. The houses were smaller and the paint chipping in places. The barn lots were muddier. “There must be a really good reason for the Amish to kill one of their own.”

  “Would it have made a difference that Mark wasn’t from Mt. Caramel? Their parochial ways might play out between communities,” Todd said.

  “Although most Amish are related by blood, either close relations or distant, they also can harbor strong grudges against each other. I was surprised to learn that when a family or even a group of families has troubles with leadership or the rules, they’ll often pack up and move to a new community. From the way Bishop Esch talked, the Blood Rock Amish don’t have a lot to do with the Mt. Carmel Amish. Melinda coming into my jurisdiction was out of the ordinary.” I shook my head as I slowed down to make the turn. “What I don’t understand is why our bishop would want to dig into Melinda’s past, going so far as to put you on her trail when at the time of her disappearance, no one wanted to talk about it. When Mark Yoder pushed the subject, he was likely murdered for it.”

  Toby lifted his gaze from his notebook. “I was wondering that myself. The bishop didn’t seem surprised that she ended up in a brothel. It was more like he wanted the information verified. Once it had been, he was all right with letting the matter drop.”

  “Part of that might have been his disgust with the prostitution part of it, but you’re right. The bishop’s attitude spun one-eighty once he learned that she was working in the sex trade. I think he was genuinely happy to learn she was still alive, but that’s where his interest ended.”

  “It certainly is a mystery.”

  “Yes, it is,” I mumb
led.

  I chose to pull into the driveway of the first house I came to on the main road through the settlement. The small white house stood out with its neatly mowed yard and a huge, red-leafed maple tree draping over most of it. The barns were painted green and dozens of wooly sheep dotted the pastures. Although small, the place was well kept. I parked at the hitching rail in front of the farmhouse. Since I had no idea where Fannie King or Ezra King lived, we’d have to resort to getting directions from the neighbors. I only hoped the locals weren’t as unforthcoming as they’d been in the past.

  “Maybe we should have driven my truck,” Toby commented as he exited my cruiser.

  Yeah, I’d considered it. “It’s been so many years, it’s hard to believe everyone in the community will still have a vested interest in remaining silent. Besides, I’m not ready to go undercover on this one. Let’s see what we come up with today.”

  “Don’t forget Lynette King. She left this community only four years ago and ended up in the same brothel as Melinda. Prostitution and murder stem from this place. Mt. Carmel doesn’t sound like a very wholesome place. We had better tread lightly.”

  Sound advice.

  We didn’t even make it to the door when a long-faced, middle-aged woman came up the path and greeted us. “Hullo! Do you need directions?”

  Feeling like I was in the Twilight Zone, I glanced at Toby and he just shrugged. This woman didn’t seem to mind the uniform. I hoped the rest of the community felt the same way. “We’re looking for Fannie King and Ezra King. Can you tell me their addresses?”

  She didn’t miss a beat. “Fannie is at the next farm down on the right.” She pointed in the direction. “There’s a silo right beside the road, you can’t miss it. Our bishop is on Piney Road. There’s too many turns to describe, but if I recall, the house number is four hundred forty-one.” The woman continued to smile in a friendly way. The bottom of her brown polyester dress flapped in the wind.