by Leslie Gould
FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, I left Arleta nursing the baby in the bedroom, washed my hands in the bathroom, and then returned to the kitchen.
“Have a seat,” Deputy Rogers said.
I slid into a chair next to Joshua, who appeared very uncomfortable. He shifted away from me and moved his hands from his lap to the tabletop. His fingernails were chewed to the quick.
Deputy Rogers asked me what I saw when I arrived that night. I told him about a young woman running past me and jumping into the Jeep. I looked up times on my phone—when I’d called for the ride, what time the baby was born, and when I’d left the next morning. I added that Joshua and Vernon had arrived after the baby was born but before it was time to start the milking.
“Had you ever seen Miriam before that night?” the deputy asked.
I shook my head.
He slid two photos toward me. “Do you recognize either of these men?”
I nodded, pointing at the one of a man with a goatee. It was Tommy. “This was the driver, although I’m not sure he had a goatee. I couldn’t see his chin because a scarf was wrapped around his neck and lower face.”
“Have you ever seen the other man?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Had you seen the driver before that night?”
I nodded. “Yes, but not for years, and I didn’t recognize him that night because he was bundled up. And because I was expecting a Kenny M.—not Tommy Miller.”
“Do you know Tommy Miller?”
“I used to,” I answered. “We were childhood friends.”
“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?” Deputy Rogers asked.
“Over a decade.” I paused a moment. “Thirteen years, to be exact.”
“Was Tommy wild back then, when you knew him?”
I shook my head. “Not that I knew of. He was always very kind to me.”
“Well, lucky you.” The deputy’s eyes narrowed.
I was surprised at his comment but didn’t respond.
He continued anyway. “I was well acquainted with both Tommy and Kenny when they were teenagers and in their early twenties. I was more than relieved when they headed west.”
Clearly, Tommy wasn’t who I thought he was. I met the deputy’s gaze. “Do you expect foul play? Have you put out an Amber Alert?”
“Miriam is legally an adult,” he said. “There’s not a lot we can do. But I’ll question Tommy Miller to see what he has to say.”
“What about Kenny Miller?” I asked. “Have you questioned him?”
The deputy shook his head. “He seems to have disappeared entirely. At least Tommy’s still in the area.”
“She has his number,” Vernon said.
The deputy raised his eyebrows.
“I saved it in my contacts in case I couldn’t find a ride home from the birth. I can give it to you.” He hadn’t answered when I’d called him, though, so I wasn’t sure if he’d answer the deputy’s call, or if he even still had the phone. I opened up my contacts and rattled off the number for the deputy.
“Tommy’s mother can also help you find him,” the bishop said. “She lives close to here.”
“Does Tommy live with her?”
The bishop shook his head. “I believe he lives in town, in an apartment.”
Deputy Rogers made a note and then turned to Vernon. “I’ll track him down.” He turned toward Joshua. “Are you sure you don’t have any more information to give me? Names of people your sister hung out with? Anything like that?”
Without looking up, he shook his head.
“Joshua,” Vernon commanded. “Look at the officer and speak out loud.”
Joshua did as he was told, but he had a sour expression on his blushing face. “No, I don’t have any more information for you.”
I doubted that was true, and by the strained expression on the deputy’s face, I guessed he did too.
After he gathered up the photos and his notebook, Deputy Rogers stood and extended his hand to Vernon. “I’ll leave a message on your phone by this afternoon or stop by.”
Vernon shook his hand but didn’t say anything.
“Take care of your wife,” the deputy said as he slipped into his parka.
“Oh, Arleta’s doing fine,” Vernon said. “She’s as hardy as they come.”
I cringed. The deputy didn’t, though; he simply nodded at Vernon and bid Joshua and the bishop good-bye too. He then turned to me and said, “I’ll walk you out.”
I said my farewells and followed the deputy to the kitchen door. Once we’d both reached the bottom of the steps, he motioned toward the pickup. “Keep going.”
He stopped on the other side, presumably so no one could overhear our conversation. “What are your impressions of the family?” he asked. “Functional? Dysfunctional?”
“I don’t know that I’m qualified to comment on that,” I said. “I don’t know them. I only witnessed them on one stressful night.” I hesitated a moment and said, “And in my estimation there’s not really any such thing as a fully functional family.” My family appeared functional, but through the years, I realized we had our problems too. “There are only dysfunctional families, some less so than others.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Fair enough. If you hear anything, let me know.”
Again, it was a command. “I most likely won’t see them again. And I’ll be leaving Nappanee soon.” At least I hoped so.
He took a card from the pocket of his coat and handed it to me. “Then call me if you hear anything. I know midwives often come across information that others don’t.”
I took his card, not bothering to correct him that I wasn’t a midwife.
Then he took out his little book. “And could I get your number? Just in case I have a follow-up question?”
I rattled off my phone number, hoping he wouldn’t call. I knew he was doing his job, but something about the man left me unsettled.
CHAPTER 7
On the way home, as I charged my phone again, a call came in from the leader of the four-string quartet we’d booked for the reception. I slammed my hand against the steering wheel. If I wasn’t in Amish country, I might have cursed. I held my tongue, although I wasn’t sure I could for long. Had I ever really known Ryan? How could I have been so easily deceived? He appeared kind and caring. I never would have guessed he’d treat me so poorly. Never.
When I pulled into Mammi’s driveway, I gasped. A Jeep was parked where the pickup had been earlier. I pulled up behind it.
Was Tommy Miller in Mammi’s kitchen?
I lugged the bag up the back steps and to the mudroom, placed it on the shelf, and hung up my coat. Next, I ventured into the kitchen. Sitting at the table were Mammi, Wanda Miller, and Tommy, who held a toddler on his lap. The little boy looked up at me and waved. He had big brown eyes, light mahogany skin, a headful of curly dark hair, and a big smile on his face.
My heart melted as I waved back.
Tommy turned his head toward me. “Hello, Savannah.”
I waved at him too. “Nice to see you again.”
He smiled. “Ditto.”
“Did you know it was me the other night?”
He nodded.
“But you didn’t say anything.”
He nodded again. “You didn’t either.”
“Because I thought you were Kenny M. I didn’t recognize you.”
He stroked his goatee. “Sorry.”
“Who’s this?” I smiled at the little boy again.
“Mason,” Tommy answered.
“Hey, Mason.” I knelt down so I could be eye level with him and held up my hand for a high five. “I’m Savannah. How old are you, buddy?”
He slapped my palm and laughed, then looked at Tommy. “Dada.”
Tommy smiled. “He says he’s pleased to meet you, and he wants you to know that he’s eighteen months.”
“Sit down and have a cup of coffee,” Mammi said to me. “We’re all just catching up. Tommy didn’t have to work today
and came over to say hello.” I wondered if his intention was to say hello to Mammi or to me. Or maybe both of us. I didn’t ask.
I headed to the stove and grabbed the pot. “Anyone need a refill?”
“I’ll take one.” Tommy moved his cup away from Mason. I filled it and then filled a cup for myself and sat down next to Wanda, across from Tommy. He appeared to be a natural with the little boy. I couldn’t help but wonder who the mother was—and where she was.
“So, what have you been up to?” Tommy asked me.
“Oh, you know, freelance midwifery in the middle of the night during a blizzard. That sort of thing.”
He laughed.
“Why didn’t you say who you really were?”
He cringed. “I feel bad about that. I happened to hear Kenny’s phone buzz and glanced at it. I would have ignored it, but when I saw the name Savannah, I thought it might be you. My Mamm had said you were coming for a visit, and I didn’t want you to be stranded on a country road. Once I saw you and realized it was you but that you didn’t recognize me, I just decided to let it go.” He sighed. “Sorry.”
“Where’s Kenny?” I asked.
“Why do you ask?”
“You must have had his phone for some reason.”
“I did. He was . . . indisposed.”
“Who had Mason that night?”
Tommy nodded toward his mother. “My mom did.”
I leaned forward. “So, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “Except that you’re grilling me.”
“Did you know that Miriam is missing? She never came back that night.”
“I dropped her off at the house.” He pulled out a phone and held it up. “It was around two in the morning.”
I thought back to that night. I would have been on the phone with Delores, trying to deliver the placenta. “Miriam never came in the house. And I never heard a vehicle or a car door slam or anything.”
“I parked over by the barn,” he said. “I couldn’t get close to the house, remember?”
“Did you watch Miriam walk into the house?”
“I waited until she was on the back steps . . .” His voice trailed off.
I stood and walked to the mudroom, retrieving Deputy Rogers’s card from my coat pocket. I returned to the kitchen and handed it to Tommy. “This deputy wants to ask you a few questions.”
He took the card and grimaced. Clearly he recognized the name on the card. After a long moment, he met my gaze. “I didn’t have anything to do with Miriam disappearing.”
I shrugged. “Tell the deputy.”
Tommy, with Mason still in his arms, dug his phone out of his pocket and glanced at Mammi as if asking permission to use it.
“Go ahead,” she said. “This is important.” She hadn’t minded me using my phone either. She’d told me sometime in the last year, more Youngie who hadn’t joined the church were using their cell phones in Amish houses. It was becoming harder and harder for parents to completely enforce a “use it in the barn” or “use it outside” rule.
Tommy punched in the number. After saying hello, he said, “Savannah Mast said you want to speak with me.” There was a pause. “I can meet you wherever you want.” Another pause. “I’m at the Mast place right now. Dorothy Mast’s farm.” He gave Deputy Rogers the address and then said, “I’ll wait here until you arrive.”
When he ended the call, he looked at his mother. “When the deputy comes, would you take Mason to another room? I don’t want him to be confused.”
“Of course,” Wanda said.
Mammi stood and pulled a tray of cinnamon rolls from the oven. “I just need to drizzle the icing on these,” she said. “And then you can offer one to the deputy.” She turned toward Tommy. “Do you want me to leave the room with your mother?”
“That might be for the best,” Tommy said and then looked at me. “But would you stay?”
I nodded, although I couldn’t fathom why he wanted me there. It wasn’t as if I could confirm his story, or even vouch for his character. Tommy wasn’t the boy I used to know.
Ten minutes later, the rolls were covered with a cream cheese icing and Mammi, Wanda, and Mason had ventured into a back room. When Deputy Rogers knocked on the front door, I opened it. He frowned and then said gruffly, “That was fast work.”
I didn’t reply. Instead, I asked if I could take his coat. He shook his head and motioned for me to lead the way toward the kitchen.
“Well, well, well.” Deputy Rogers stopped in the archway and crossed his arms over his broad chest, made even wider by his thick parka. “So we meet again.”
Tommy stood and strode toward him, his hand extended.
The deputy looked him up and down in what appeared to be a clear attempt to intimidate Tommy. He gripped his hand tightly and shook it up and down.
“I hope you won’t hold my youthful foolishness against me,” Tommy said.
“I will if you haven’t put it behind you.”
“I can assure you I have.” Tommy gestured toward the table. “How about a cup of coffee?”
Deputy Rogers finally let go of Tommy’s hand. “Sure.”
“I’ll get it.” I needed something to do besides watch the alpha-male power struggle before me. I poured the deputy a cup and then dished cinnamon rolls onto three plates and distributed those too.
When we were all settled around the table, Deputy Rogers picked up his fork and held it over the cinnamon roll as if he might stab it. “What brings you back to Nappanee?” he asked Tommy.
“My mother. A job.” Tommy shrugged. “The same things that draw most people back home.”
Without responding to Tommy, the deputy slashed into the cinnamon roll, cut off a section, and took a bite, chewing slowly. After he swallowed, he glanced at me. “Delicious.”
“Oh, I can’t take any credit,” I said. “My grandmother made them.”
“Well, tell her thank you,” he said and took another bite, washing it down with a drink of coffee. Then he turned to Tommy again. “Where’s Miriam Wenger?”
“I have no idea.” Tommy hadn’t touched his cinnamon roll.
“When did you see her last?”
He pulled out the phone again and said, “Early on Sunday, around two in the morning, when I dropped her off at the Wenger farm.”
They went over Tommy’s timeline for the night, from when he picked me up to when he dropped me off and picked up Miriam. “I took Miriam to a house in Nappanee, on the corner of Main and Elm. The place was lit up, and there were lots of cars and people hanging out on the porch. Then, because I was awake, I picked up a few more riders. After I took Miriam back to the house and was headed home, I got another request. From a Joshua W.”
Deputy Rogers’s bushy eyebrows shot up.
“Jah, it was Joshua Wenger,” Tommy clarified. “And Vernon was with him.”
“Joshua has a cell phone?” the deputy asked.
“Apparently so. I picked them up at a house off Cardinal Street, took them home, and then went back to my apartment and turned off the phone.”
“What’s your relationship with Kenny Miller?” Deputy Rogers asked.
“He’s my cousin.”
“First, right?”
“Correct.” Tommy held up the phone. “This is his. He’s been staying with me at my apartment in town. Kenny’s been driving for extra money, but he left without his phone Saturday night. When it buzzed and I saw it was a woman named Savannah, I decided to go get her.”
“Why?”
Tommy glanced my way. “I thought it might be Savannah Mast because my mother said she was coming for a visit. We were childhood friends. I didn’t want her stranded out in the storm.”
Deputy Rogers frowned. “How did you know she was the Savannah you knew?”
“I didn’t, but I figured the chances were pretty high. Savannah isn’t a common name around here.”
Deputy Rogers jotted something down and then asked, “Have you been in cont
act with Kenny?”
Tommy shook his head. “Not since around eight in the evening on New Year’s Eve.”
“Is he driving his Camry?”
“I assume so. It hasn’t been parked at the apartment complex since then. But he doesn’t have his cell phone with him, so I can’t contact him to find out.”
“Any idea where he might be?”
Tommy shook his head.
“Do you think he’s in some sort of trouble?”
“I don’t know,” Tommy said. “I hope not.”
“Any reason you think he might be? Has he been in trouble recently? I mean, the two of you were in trouble all the time as teenagers.”
Tommy exhaled. Then he took a sip of coffee and finally answered, “Yes, he’s been in trouble since then.”
“For . . . ?”
“He was arrested for drug distribution in New Mexico. Evading the police in Arizona. And shoplifting in Nevada.” Tommy wrapped his hands around his mug. “I think that’s all.”
“What about manufacturing drugs in Arizona?”
Tommy cringed. “He didn’t tell me about that.”
“Were you two traveling together out West?”
“Some,” Tommy said. “But not all of the time.”
“Can you give me names and addresses of people he hung out with here? Or whom he might have gone out with on Saturday night?”
Tommy shook his head. “Look, we moved back here in September. I got an apartment and let him stay with me. I didn’t want to get involved with anything else. I figured the less I knew the better, which in retrospect wasn’t the best idea. But Kenny is twenty-eight. I can’t control him.” He sighed again. “I’ve tried.”
Deputy Rogers took a few more bites to finish his cinnamon roll, followed by another drink of coffee. Then he pushed back his chair. “Well, thank you, Tommy Miller. I need your cell phone number—not Kenny’s.”
Tommy rattled off the number.
“Make sure and hold on to Kenny’s phone,” the deputy said. “It might be needed later.”