Lamb to the Slaughter (Serenity's Plain Secrets Book 1) Page 4

  When no one spoke, I added, “Or, I could come back.”

  Timothy had a shaggy, brown beard, and dull, blue eyes. Patricia was being the quiet one at the moment, but a glance at her face told me she was the keener of the two.

  After Timothy received an approving nod from the bishop, he said, “I’d rather get it over with now.”

  The room had mysteriously emptied in the time it took me to approach the Beilers. Besides myself and Todd, only the couple, the bishop, and the two ministers remained. Todd’s eyebrow lift told me he was feeling as weird as I was.

  “Would you like to speak somewhere more private?” I asked Timothy, hoping to get him away from the church authorities.

  “No, this is fine.” Timothy seemed almost bored, while Patricia nervously tapped her fingers together. I wondered again, where was the anguish over losing a child?

  Pulling the note pad out of my back pocket, I took a breath and began. “When did you last see Naomi?”

  There was silence while Timothy looked to his wife for the answer. Patricia finally spoke, “I saw her on the morning of October twentieth. Timothy hadn’t seen her since the night before.”

  The woman’s voice was matter of fact, but the words she said confirmed my suspicions. “Mr. Dolson, the farmer working the cornfield where Naomi was found, discovered the body on November sixth…that’s seventeen days. You mean, neither of you saw her after the twentieth?”

  They both shook their heads meeting my eyes with sureness.

  Bishop Esch, said, “No one else in the community did either, Ms. Adams.”

  “Why didn’t you report her missing?” I asked Timothy and Patricia, but my eyes were focused on Patricia, wondering what kind of mother ignores her daughter’s disappearance.

  Timothy sighed, stretching his beard tight between his fingers.

  “We believed that our daughter had run away,” Timothy said, averting his eyes.

  “And why would she do that?” I asked.

  Timothy met my stare defiantly and said, “Naomi was always a strong willed girl, even as a child she caused mischief. We had every reason to think that she’d left the community in search of another way of life.”

  “Was she having difficulties that you knew about?”

  Both Timothy and Patricia shook their heads, but said nothing. I was about to open my mouth when Bishop Esch spoke. “It’s uncommon, but occasionally, a young person decides that the Plain ways aren’t for them. You see, we don’t practice rumspringa in our community. If a teenager has wild oats to sow, they typically leave.”

  The rain was coming down harder again, streaking the basement windows to the point of obscuring any sign of the outdoors. The room had turned darker with nature’s onslaught. After watching the drops travel down the window for a few seconds, I turned to the bishop and asked, “What’s rumspringa?”

  I had just about forgotten that Todd was even present until he piped up. “It’s when the Amish kids get to run wild for a couple of years before they decide to settle down and join the church.”

  The bishop forced a smile and said, “You’ve simplified the definition, but achieved the main idea.”

  Todd grinned, satisfied with his show of knowledge. Even though my mind acknowledged that Todd knew a hell of a lot more about the Amish than I did, I dismissed him, turning back to the parents.

  “Let me make sure I understand you both correctly. You believe that Naomi ran away from her home because she didn’t want to be Amish?” I spoke to Timothy, but turned my gaze to his wife again.

  Timothy said, “Yes.”

  “But, where did you think she’d gone?” I knew the Amish thought differently than the rest of us, but still, their indifference to their daughter’s disappearance was inexcusable.

  Timothy shrugged, and Patricia ignored me. I looked to Bishop Esch, who replied, “Once one of the young members of our flock chooses to leave us, we do not give it much thought, besides praying for their safe return and well-being. Our hope is always that they will find their way back to us and the Lord in time.”

  “If Naomi had run away as you believe, where would she have been heading to in the cornfield?” I was overflowing with questions, but I paced myself, knowing that at any moment the Amish might stop talking altogether. I had to pick my questions carefully.

  The bishop answered me. “Only our heavenly Father knows for sure, but possibly she was making her way towards one of the county roads.”

  After studying a topographical map, I’d already decided that Naomi was aiming for Burkey Road. It was interesting that the bishop had guessed the same thing.

  I breathed deeply and glanced at Todd, who urged me on with the lift of his chin. I was dreading the next question.

  “Did Naomi have a boyfriend?” I asked softly.

  The only sound was the pattering of the raindrops against the house. I saw the exchange of looks between the Amish, and was beginning to think that they were done with me, when Timothy said, “No. She didn’t.”

  Why did it take so long to answer? And, why was Timothy Beiler lying?

  “Are you saying that she didn’t have the attention of any of the Amish boys that you know of?”

  “That’s right,” Timothy confirmed as he stared out the window, avoiding my eyes.

  I wrestled inwardly whether I should tell them now or wait until after the girl was in the ground. Either way, it wouldn’t make it any easier on them. Then again, maybe they wouldn’t be as surprised as I hoped they’d be, judging by their nonchalant manner toward the situation.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Beiler, I really do need to have a moment alone with you. There was a discovery during the autopsy that I’d like to talk to you about in private,” I said, hoping they’d agree.

  Timothy said with conviction, his gaze suddenly sharp, “You may speak freely here. Aaron, James and Joseph are close friends.”

  I stopped my eyes from rolling at his words. Damn. I expected him to say that.

  “Your daughter was six weeks pregnant when she died,” I blurted out, wanting to get the revelation out of the way as quickly as possible.

  Patricia sucked in a breath, bringing her hands to her face. Timothy put his arm tightly around her shoulder. Finally, I had a show of emotion, but for a potential grandchild, not their daughter.

  The bishop and ministers remained silent, their faces expressionless. If these men ever played poker, they’d be good at it.

  Patricia rose abruptly, turning her suddenly pale face away from me. I didn’t understand her customs, but I saw the angst just the same. Timothy talked to her and then to the bishop before he left with Patricia. His hand still gripped her shoulder as the two made their way to the stairway that led up to the house.

  I would have given up the contents of my savings account to know what they’d said before they’d exited. The fact that they spoke a language that only their own people were privy to could be a real disadvantage in this investigation.

  I turned to Bishop Esch. “I’m sorry that the news upset them.”

  “It is what it is.” The bishop shrugged, keeping his gaze locked on me.

  “I need to talk to the father, Mr. Esch. Do you have any ideas who it is?”

  It might have been my imagination, or a continuation of the heebie-jeebies that I was feeling, but I could have sworn that my words had caused Joseph Bender to suddenly shift his weight and take a soft intake of breath.

  I narrowed my eyes on Joseph and asked him, “Do you have any information pertinent to this discussion, Mr. Bender?”

  “No, I do not,” Mr. Bender said, and then he turned and followed the Beiler’s tracks up the stairs. James Hooley wasn’t far behind, leaving me and Todd alone with the bishop.

  “It’s been a long day. I’ll be going to get the horse and buggy ready now. Before I depart, I must ask you a question, Ms. Adams. Why is it so important for you to know who the child’s father is?” Bishop Esch asked quietly.

  There was no need for the man to know
that the discovery of Naomi’s pregnancy could turn the accidental homicide into a murder investigation. I searched my mind for the best words to use. After all, I was sure I’d be seeing quite a bit of the bishop in the days to come.

  “It’s just protocol, Mr. Esch. I want to make sure all the paper work is filled out completely before I close the case.”

  “And, I assume that there are ways in your world of science to determine exactly who the father is?” The bishop asked.

  “Yes, there are.”

  “I see…well, I must be going.” He tipped his hat, and said, “Have a blessed day.”

  When Todd and I were back in the car, I finally relaxed.

  “What do you make of all this?” I glanced over to see Todd staring out the window at the saturated landscape.

  “It’s fucked up if you ask me.”

  I translated his words to mean that he agreed with me. There was more going on in the Blood Rock Amish Community than anyone was willing to tell us.

  “With these people being so damned tight lipped, how am I going to get any straight answers? No one’s going to talk to me because I’m not Amish,” I said to myself as much as to Todd.

  “Maybe that’s your solution.” Todd shrugged with a lopsided smile appearing on his face. A face that I guess, some women would find attractive.

  “What?”

  “You need an Amish person to help you get in with the Amish people.” Todd’s voice was smug with concealed knowledge.

  I pulled off the road, careful not to get into the soft ground too far before I turned the engine off.

  “Will you just spit it out!” I demanded.

  “Has anyone ever told you that you’re cute when you get all riled up?” Todd joked, but seeing the look on my face that told him plainly that he was about to get hit, he went on quickly, “Go talk to Daniel Bachman. He might be able to help you.”

  The picture of the gorgeous building contractor sprang to mind. The man was unusually tall with bulging muscles in all the right places. His dark wavy hair and midnight black eyes had triggered romantic images of pirates and sailing ships when I’d first seen him.

  I was more confused than before. “Do you mean the Daniel Bachman who put a new roof on my house last spring? Why ever would I want to talk to him about this mess?”

  “You’ve already met him? Well, forget it then. He’s probably scared of you now.” Todd actually looked deflated. I had to fight my pride to ignore the comment.

  “Be serious, Todd. Why, Mr. Bachman?”

  Todd looked at me sideways, saying, “Because, he used to be Amish.”

  “What! You must be mistaken…Heather told me about all the women that the guy’s been through. Not to mention, the two DUIs on his record.”

  I settled back in the seat, trying to think of any clue that the man had given when I’d dealt with him during the roofing job, but came up empty.

  “You ran his name?” Todd sounded appalled.

  “Hey, I don’t know anything about roofs. I wanted to make sure the guy was reputable. Just forget about that anyway. When did he leave the Amish?”

  “I ran into him over at Charlie’s Pub one night,” He eyed me and went on to promise, “I wasn’t on duty, don’t worry. Daniel joined me and Daryl at the table. He was a little wasted, but not too bad. Anyway, he basically gave us his entire life story.”

  “And…?” I could have kicked myself for being so curious, but damn, the guy was unusually hot.

  “Told us he left the Amish when he was nineteen. Didn’t say exactly why, but I gathered it wasn’t exactly on good terms.”

  “The Blood Rock community?”

  “Yep.”

  “Oh,” was all I could sputter out. Todd was turning out to be a lot more useful than I ever thought he’d be. If nothing else, I could talk to Daniel about the Amish ways.

  I frowned remembering clearly how his alpha male personality hadn’t meshed well with me when he did my roof. Maybe Todd was right—the guy may not even be interested in talking to me. But, it was worth a try. I could put on the charm, when it was really needed.

  “So what are we going to do for the next hour until quitting time?” Todd asked.

  “We’re going to pay Mr. Bachman a visit. In this weather, I’m sure he’s not busy.”

  “Yeah, I figured you were going to say that.” Todd sighed, and then he added, “You might want to let your hair down and change into street clothes. You don’t want to freak him out, or anything.”

  The look I sent Todd was so fierce that his smirk disappeared and he mumbled, “—just saying.”

  4

  NAOMI

  August 16th

  Naomi yawned as she gathered the dirty dishes from the table. She wondered how she was going to stay awake the rest of the day at the same time that she turned to frown at her mother. Instead of Mamma getting up to take care of three year old Emma, who’d woken in the night sick, it had been Naomi who’d sat with her little sister for hours, patting her hot forehead with a cool, wet cloth until the fever broke. The children were Mamma’s responsibility, not hers, but she was always taking up the slack since Mamma was too tired or depressed to do anything.

  “Don’t forget, Naomi, you need to pick up those groceries before you come home this evening,” Mamma said over her shoulder from the sink.

  “Jah, I won’t,” Naomi said in a defeated voice, not allowing the bitterness to show for fear of what Mamma might do to her. She didn’t have the energy for a fight this morning. Maybe, another time she’d be able to speak up for herself, but not today.

  Besides being up all night caring for her baby sister, Naomi had risen at five o’clock to do four loads of laundry by hand. Now, as she scraped the remnants of breakfast from the plates into the bucket, she was already exhausted. She rubbed her eyes vigorously to clear the haze from them. To top it all off, she had the shopping to look forward to after a full day of working at the butcher shop.

  The beeping horn pulled Naomi from her resentful thoughts. She grabbed her bag and headed to the door without a goodbye from Mamma. If her mother had wished her well that day, she would have been shocked. The silence didn’t darken her mood any more than it already was.

  Emma and Nathan did smile at her though, and she patted each of their small heads when she walked by. At the door, she turned and winked at Emma before stepping out into the misty morning air. The chilly breeze lifted the hairs on her arms, but she wouldn’t return to the kitchen for her jacket now that she was finally free. Knowing that the afternoon sun would have her sweating later on, she confidently stepped off the porch, heading toward the maroon Suburban that would be her chauffeur for the five miles or so to the butcher shop. Thankfully, the distance was too great for her to have to take a horse and buggy. Seeing the other girls’ white caps blazing through the windows lightened Naomi’s mood a little and she quickened her pace. Sandra would cheer her up. She always did.

  Naomi glanced at the wall clock and rolled her eyes in disgust. The last ten minutes always went on forever, she thought, as she took the sharp blade and quartered the loin meat neatly. This particular piece was awfully bloody and she used the paper towels to pat the meat several times, soaking up the extra juice before she placed the pieces on the foam trays.

  The bellow of the steer in the adjoining room sent a shudder through her. Naomi had been working at the butcher shop for a year, but she still had issues dealing with the killing part. She knew that if she lifted her head even a fraction, she’d see the steer go down through the open doorway. The sound of the shot was bad enough, but watching it happen was far worse. She prayed inwardly that she got picked up before this particular cow was done in.

  “So, did you enjoy spending time with Eli after the singing on Sunday?” Sandra’s voice startled Naomi. The girls had been too busy to talk much, especially when Mr. Zook was so serious about them paying close attention to what they were doing with the knives. It seemed to Naomi that almost every month, one of the girl
s was rushed to the doctor for stitches.

  Naomi stalled her hands above the chunk of meat and raised her eyes to Sandra, thinking how lucky her friend was that she only worked two days a week at the shop. She, on the other hand, worked all five. Her Father’s crops hadn’t done as well the previous year and her family desperately needed the money. The responsibility fell onto Naomi’s shoulders, being that she was the oldest child.

  Naomi held the knife in the air and said, “You know I did. Eli and I have such great chemistry that it always feels right being with him. I just wish Mamma wasn’t so uptight about it.” She frowned at the meat, remembering how Mamma had barged onto the porch a whole hour before Eli was expecting to head home the night before, ordering her to bed. Dat wasn’t nearly as bad. He actually seemed embarrassed by his wife’s tirade.

  Sandra lowered her voice to a whisper and Naomi had to strain to hear her words over the bellowing of the cow. “Is she giving you a difficult time about you courting Eli?”

  “Of course, she gives me grief about everything in my life. And all I do is slave for her. You’d think she’d be at least a little grateful, but nooo.” She pouted for effect, causing Sandra to shake her head in sympathy.

  The young English man standing in the doorway caught Naomi’s eye. He had dusty blond hair and wide set brown eyes. His nose was straight and his frame strong and muscled. It registered in her mind that he was close to as good looking as Eli was. Then he said Naomi’s name and she froze, nearly fainting.

  “I’m Naomi,” she squawked out, hating the sound of her voice.

  As the young man approached her, she noticed his comfortable, athletic stride and the way he flung the hair from his face before he spoke to her. He held out his hand for a second, but quickly dropped it to his side after seeing that one of hers was holding a knife and the other was encased in a bloody glove.

  “I’m Will Johnson. Jerry is my uncle—his wife, Teresa, got real sick today. He asked me to come get you after he talked to your mother on the phone this afternoon. I’m supposed to take you to the grocery store and then home.”