Love Finds You in Sugarcreek, Ohio (27 page)

“Your brother would never do this.”

Joe did not reply. There were many things Darren had done that their father had never known about.

“Tell me about this brother.” The fire chief looked at them with interest.

“You can talk to him yourself,” Joe’s father said. “He’ll be home soon. I’m sure he had nothing to do with it.”

It was a hard thing, Joe decided, having a brother he didn’t trust.

“Who would want to hurt us?” Bertha’s eyes were haunted. “We have done nothing wrong to anyone.”

Bertha, so stolid, so strong, looked shrunken and old for the first time Joe could remember. Even a broken leg had not taken her down so far.

“I need to get the three of you home,” Rachel said. “You can stay at my house for as long as you want.”

“There’s no need for that,” Joe said. “Dad and I can move into one of the cabins, and the aunts can have the daadi haus.”

“No.” Bertha rallied, showing some spirit. “We will not take your home from you. We will go with Rachel.” Her face fell. “It will not be so bad.”

Rachel looked hurt. “Not so bad?”

“This is all because of me.” Joe clenched his fists in front of him on the table. “If I hadn’t come back, this would never have happened.”

“You don’t know that,” Rachel said.

“I
did
know! I knew better than any of you what kind of things, and people, follow me. It was naive to think I could somehow carve out a normal life.”

Rachel laid her hand over his. “We’ll find whoever did this, Joe; I give you my word.”

“You just do that, Rachel.” He covered her hand with his own. “Whoever this person is, whatever grievance they think they have against me—and the people who care about me—you find them. And when you do, unless you want a homicide on your hands, you’d better keep me away from them.” He gritted his teeth. “Because I’m not running anymore.”

“Joe…”

He rose from the table. “I have cows to milk.”

Joe heard a
thump
against the front door a few hours later and went to pick up the local
Times-Reporter
newspaper. He sat on the daadi haus steps in the early dawn, trying to ignore the sad sight of the smoking ashes of the Troyer sisters’ home. And trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder and the bandages on his arms and feet.

The picture of the fire covered half of the front page, orange blazes against a dark morning sky. There he was, huddled in a blanket. He was sick of seeing himself splattered all over newspapers and magazines.

He was furious at himself. He should never have tried to settle in and make a life here. All he had managed to do was bring pain and destruction to the very people who had helped him.

“Do you want some company?” Rachel sat down close beside him. He had been so engrossed in reliving the nightmare, he hadn’t even noticed her walking around from the back of the house.

“No. I don’t need company.”

He heard her quick intake of breath at his hurtful statement. He laid aside the newspaper and took her hand in his. “What I need is a friend.”

“Me too.” She sighed and relaxed against him. “My aunts left my home this morning. They are not going to be staying with me after all.”

“Why not?”

“Bertha was on the phone a little bit ago, making arrangements with one of Eli’s sons—for the three of them to live in Eli’s home while he’s in the hospital. I overheard her say that she is not comfortable staying in my house.”

“That must have stung. What, exactly, made her uncomfortable?”

“It was my own fault. They were acting so lost when we got home, I thought it might be good to get their minds focused on something besides the fire.”

“What did you do, Rachel?”

“I found a program on the Discovery Channel called Planet Earth. It’s a nature program. There is nothing the least bit risqué or questionable about it. Wonderful cinematography. Very educational. They were fascinated.”

“Doesn’t seem like a bad thing to do.”

“Obviously you aren’t an elderly Amish woman. As Bertha put it, ‘We are used to our ways.’ I guess she was afraid I was going to corrupt them with electricity and TV if they stayed.”

“I’m so sorry.”

She shrugged and looked away. “No matter how close I feel to them, no matter how much I know they love me, there is always a barrier between us simply because I am not Amish. Being Amish is very, very important to them, Joe. It is as though it is embedded in their DNA. It is not just another religion. It is, in their eyes, the only true religion.”

“I thought Bertha left the church for many years. Why is she so strictly Amish now?”

“Because she’s Bertha.” Rachel smiled ruefully. “She made a vow to observe the Ordnung, and she meant it.”

He put an arm around her. “Any word about Eli this morning?”

“Yes. He’s a little better. I’m going to go see him again when I leave here.” She fidgeted with a button on her shirt cuffs.

“What’s wrong, Rachel?”

“You were pretty shook up last night, and you were hurt. I didn’t want to add to all your worries—but you need to know something. I got a threatening phone call shortly before the farmhouse caught fire.”

Joe tightened his grip. “Who was it?”

“The caller disguised the voice. I don’t even know if it was a man or a woman. But I was warned to stay away from you.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I wish I were.”

“Why didn’t you tell the fire chief last night?”

“I did. He knows and so does Ed. There was nothing you could do about it last night, and I wanted you to get some rest if you could.”

“Between the arson and that phone call,” Joe said grimly, “the killer could be right here in town.”

“True. Or some nut job who wants to scare us for the sheer thrill of it.”

“Grace knew the person she let in, Rachel. Remember? She turned the security system off.”

“I know.” Her voice suddenly became nonchalant. “By the way, did your brother ever come home?”

“You don’t have to pretend. I’m starting to be suspicious of Darren myself. He’s inside sleeping now. Said he had a stomachache and drove to the Wal-Mart in New Philadelphia for some Pepto-Bismol. In the middle of the night. He said he hadn’t wanted to wake us up. He acted shocked about the fire too. Dad bought it.”

“Should I bring him in for questioning?”

“Not yet.”

“Why?”

“I want to watch him and see what he does. I used to know him better than anyone. Besides, I’ve barely gotten my dad back. I’d like to enjoy him for a few days without putting him in the position of having to defend his youngest son.”

“The Amish are going to start rebuilding in a couple days.”

“The ashes haven’t cooled!”

“They work fast. They love my aunts. And they haven’t had a work frolic for quite awhile.”

“How will your aunts pay for it? I mean, even if the labor is donated, materials to rebuild a house aren’t cheap.”

“An Amish assessor will figure out how much the materials will cost, and then my aunts will need to come up with 20 percent of that. Everyone else in the church district will be assessed one dollar for every thousand they own—whether for land or possessions or livestock. That money will go into a fund to pay for the other 80 percent of the materials. Of course the labor is always free.”

“That fund—is that something they contribute to every month or year or what?”

“No, only when there is a fire or tornado or other kind of disaster. Some years they pay nothing. Some years they are assessed several times. The Amish take care of their own. It’s a good system. It takes care of the problem in such a way that no one is required to give more than they can afford, and no one gets rich off the profits.”

They both looked up as a news van drove into the yard. It was closely followed by two more.

“It’s starting again,” Rachel said.

“It never really stopped.” His shoulders drooped, and he hung his head. “I am so sick of this.”

“Do you want me to do something? Make this whole farm a crime scene or something? Rope it off with tape?”

“No. Let them take their pictures. Let them ask their questions. At least I got Eli’s cows milked before they showed up.”

“You know his sons will take care of those cows, don’t you?”

“I asked permission from his sons to do it. It was the one thing I could offer. Eli has so much family that I would only be in the way in the hospital, but I love that old man, and it makes me feel better to have something I can do.”

“Even if it means getting up at four in the morning?”

“Eli would do it for me.”

“Yes, he would.”

“You’d better leave, Rachel,” Joe said, “unless you want to see yourself on the front cover of every magazine at the checkout counter this week.”

“You’ll be okay? Here alone?”

“He won’t be alone,” a deep voice behind them said. “I’ll be here with him.”

“Dad.” Joe was pleased. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Not anymore.” His father watched as newspeople began to pile out of the vans. “In fact, I’m wide-awake and ready to tangle. Why don’t you go back inside, try to get some shut-eye, and let me deal with these people?”

“I don’t know, Dad. You aren’t used to this.”

“I’m not used to crowds? Come on, son. You know me better than that.”

“What’ll you say to them?”

“Well”—a huge grin spread across his father’s face—“I thought perhaps these good people would enjoy hearing one of my sermons. Or several. Depends on how long they intend to stay. I might as well give them a good taste of the gospel while I’m here. You go on in and get some rest.”

“I’ve missed you, Dad.”

As Rachel got into her car, Joe slipped inside the daadi haus, leaving his father to deal with the media. It felt amazing to be able to leave things in his father’s capable hands once more. He smiled as he heard his dad greeting the newspeople with enthusiasm and warmth. Dr. Robert Matthias was in his element, and those people had no earthly idea what they were in for.

The bulldozer arrived to clear away the debris. The Amish workmen came and started getting ready to create a new foundation.

Joe was hurrying to wash the dishes after his father’s and brother’s early breakfasts. He knew his father would love watching the work frolic.

Darren, on the other hand, was morose and distant, quick with sarcasm. Joe felt Darren’s eyes following him everywhere. He didn’t know if his brother was dealing with a guilty conscience or sizing him up for another hit for money.

As the crowds of fans and media came and went, as he and his father dealt with their curiosity and questions the best they could, Joe kept an ever-vigilant eye out for someone he recognized. Someone out of place. Someone Grace might have allowed access into the house late at night. So far, he’d seen no sign of anyone he recognized…

Except for his brother.

He hadn’t told Rachel that Darren had also been fond of crank phone calls back when they were in boarding school.

He wanted time to think things through first. After all, he only had one brother.

Darren had always been jealous of him, he knew that. He had even envied him Grace—he knew that too. And he could envision Darren setting a fire. But was he capable of murder? Joe didn’t believe so. On the other hand, he had lived long enough to know that there was a dark side to everyone, including himself. It was simply darker in some people than in others.

“Son, can you come in here for a moment?”

Joe wiped his hands on a dish towel and went into Abraham’s study. His dad was seated at the big desk with several books opened in front of him.

“Do you need something, Dad?”

His father glanced at him. “Have you looked at any of these books?”

“A couple.”

“Did you take any off the top shelves?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Is Darren in the house?”

“No.” Joe sat on the edge of the desk.

“It appears that Abraham had a significant stash secreted in his books.”

Joe looked at the heavy books lining the wall of shelves. “I know.”

“You knew about this?”

“Yes. I took some of it when I thought I’d disappear again for a while.”

“But you put it back?”

“Every penny.”

His dad drummed his fingers on the desk. “Do you know how much there is?”

“I never went through all the books. I only took what I thought I’d need.”

Robert leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “Books don’t burn well—too compressed. Of all the places Abraham could have hidden his money, these old books were probably one of the safest places he could have chosen. Do the sisters know about this?”

“Things have happened so fast since I got back, what with Eli’s accident and then the fire, I haven’t had the privacy to tell them.”

“Don’t you suppose it might help them with the building supplies you mentioned they would need?”

“Of course. I was planning on helping out as well—once Henrietta sends me the paperwork so I can have access to my accounts again. But I have a question, Dad. Why did you ask me if Darren was here before you told me about your discovery?”

His father looked down at the floor. “I’ve learned not to trust your brother completely. It pains me to say it, but something is not quite right with him these days.”

“It always was. You just didn’t want to see it.” Joe picked up a book and absently rifled through it, not wanting to look his father in the eyes. “Darren told me he was in Africa with you the night Grace died. Is that true?”

SLAM!

Both Joe and Robert started at the sound of the front door slamming shut.

“What was that?” his dad asked.

Joe rose, went to the front door, and looked out to see his brother striding away from the cottage. He came back to the study.

“That was Darren.”

“Do you think he heard what we were saying?”

“I’d say there was a good chance.”

A car engine started. Through the window, Joe saw his father’s rental car speed away. “Actually, Dad, I’d say there was an excellent chance he heard us.”

“What a terrible thing for him to hear,” Robert said, “his own father admitting that he doesn’t trust him.”

“If the shoe fits…”

“There’s no way he would have hurt your wife.”

“Was he with you, Dad?”

“He may have some problems, but he would never hurt someone.”

“You aren’t answering me. Was he
with
you?”

His father dropped his eyes. “Darren just happened to be in the States the week Grace died. He was scheduled to leave out on a plane that very night.”

“What airport?”

His father hesitated. “LA.”

“LA! Did he make the flight?”

“He was late. He missed it and had to take another one.”

Joe slammed his fist on the table. “Dad, why didn’t you
tell
me?”

“Because I knew you would think the worst, and I absolutely knew that Darren would never hurt a fly. There was no way I was going to shed suspicion on my own son.”

“You were wrong to keep it from me, Dad.”

“No, I wasn’t.” A steely glint came into his father’s eyes. “There is no way your brother is guilty of Grace’s murder. No way!”

“He’s your son. You’re prejudiced.”

“I wasn’t so prejudiced that I couldn’t see
your
faults and try to make
you
face them.”

Joe gritted his teeth. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see whether Darren decides to come back. Maybe then we can find out the truth.”

“He’ll be back. He’s probably just driving around, blowing off steam.”

“He might be a killer, Dad. I need to talk to Rachel about this.”

“Knock, knock,” a throaty feminine voice called from the living room. “Is anyone home?”

Joe and his father glanced at each other.

“Looks like you have company. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go outside and see if I can get your brother on his cell phone,” his dad said.

“Good idea.”

Henrietta Stiles walked into the study just after Joe’s father exited. She immediately gave Joe a kiss on the cheek. “Surprise!”

Past Henrietta’s shoulder, he saw Rachel standing in the doorway. There was a strange expression on Rachel’s face that he couldn’t read. He raised his eyebrow in a question.

Rachel shrugged. “I found her wandering around town, asking how to find you.”

“Thanks,” he said. “What in the world are you doing here, Henrietta?”

She leaned away from him but grasped his hands. “I saw the story about your friends’ house burning, and I wanted to help. You’re quite the hero back in LA for rescuing those poor old Amishwomen, by the way.”

“That’s nice of you, but—”

“Some of our friends insisted on donating money to help the poor old things rebuild. Is it true they somehow manage to live without electricity?”

“Yes, actually, it’s—”

“I can’t begin to imagine. No television. No Internet. How do they survive? I’d be bored to tears.”

“Life here is—”

“Oh, and Joe, your house is all ready and waiting for you. I had a bit of redecorating done while you were away. I thought it might help to take away some of the bad memories if things looked slightly different when you and Bobby got back.”

“I appreciate that, Henrietta. You’re a good friend.”

Henrietta began describe, in detail, the changes she had made to his home. He wasn’t surprised. She had always loved to decorate. She and Grace had spent hours together picking out fabrics and colors for their homes.

Henrietta’s chatty voice turned into background noise as he drifted out of the conversation, allowing himself to ponder his father’s revelation. The few times Darren had visited their home, Grace had told Joe that his brother gave her the creeps. Even though Joe knew Darren had admired her beauty, like everyone else in the world, he had never acted comfortable around Grace. But he had always been fond of Bobby.

Fond enough to protect his little nephew from the sight of his own mother’s death?

It fit. And it was plausible that Grace, although she didn’t like his brother, might have opened the door to him even if it was late at night.

“Earth to Micah!” Henrietta laughed and waved a hand in front of his eyes.

He shook his head and tried to concentrate on what she was saying. “I’m sorry. I guess I got sidetracked there for a minute. You were saying, Henrietta?”

“I could help with the rebuilding. As you know, I’m extremely good at organizing people and events.”

“Thanks, Henrietta, but I’m pretty sure the Amish have everything under control. They’ve done this sort of thing for hundreds of years.”

“But I can stay and watch, right?”

“If you want.”

His mind was still filled to overflowing with suspicions of his brother. “Rachel, could I talk with you a minute?”

Henrietta let out a small huff and opened a thin, red, leather briefcase. “I declare. I haven’t seen you for months, I’ve traveled two thousand miles to get here, we have business to discuss, and that’s all you have to say to me?”

“I’m sorry, Henrietta. I just need to talk with Rachel for a minute.”

“Oh, the two of you can talk anytime.” She pulled folders out of the briefcase. “There are so many things we need to go over. You need to sign some papers. I insist that you pay attention.”

Outside, he heard the roar of a bulldozer and the
clip-clop
of horse hooves. More Amish workers were arriving.

“Go ahead, Joe,” Rachel said. “You aren’t needed outside. Whatever you want to tell me can wait.” She ran her hands down her uniform. “I worked the night shift last night, and I’m feeling grungy. I think I’ll go home and change. I’ll be back in a few minutes to help. We can talk then, Joe.”

“His name isn’t ‘Joe,’” Henrietta said irritably. “His name is
Micah.”

“Right.” Rachel strolled out to the porch.

The papers he signed were a blur. He obediently put his signature wherever Henrietta pointed. Hopefully he would have access to his accounts and a provisional driver’s license in a short while.

As soon as he finished the paperwork, Henrietta accompanied him outside as he tried to find Rachel in the sea of people. Cars and buggies and news vans lined the road on either side as far as one could see. Photographers were trying to take pictures of Amish workers as those workers held hats to their faces.

“Is that man on the bulldozer
Amish?”
Henrietta’s voice was incredulous.

He glanced in the direction she was pointing. Sure enough, the bulldozer operator was dressed in suspenders and wore a black flat-brimmed hat along with an Amish-style beard.

“From what Bertha told me, that guy has wanted to operate a bulldozer from the time he was three years old and he watched a bulldozer operator his father had hired build a farm pond.”

“Uh,
excuse
me—but I thought the Amish drove those little buggies.”

“They do, to go someplace. This guy hires a driver who isn’t Amish to haul his heavy equipment to each location, and then he and his son do the work. They don’t use it to travel anywhere. It’s a tool to them.”

“This place is crazy.” Henrietta shook her head in disbelief. “You need to come back to LA, where people are normal.”

He would have liked to debate that particular issue of “normalcy” with her, but it didn’t matter enough to discuss it. Nothing mattered right now except that he needed to talk to Rachel about the fact that Darren might have been in LA the night Grace was killed. It broke his heart, but the coincidence was too great to ignore.

At that moment, Darren pulled into the driveway and got out of the car. He took one long look at Joe and then turned away, but not before Joe saw that his brother’s eyes were red—as though he had been weeping. Darren started into the daadi haus just as two Amishwomen came barreling out, apparently already in the process of setting up for the worker’s lunch. They were barefoot and chattering between themselves.

Joe saw their mouths move, but sound had ceased for him. All he could think about was getting to his brother and shaking the truth out of him.

Like a sleepwalker, he waded through the crowd and followed Darren into the house. When he got inside, Darren had already pulled a glass out of the cupboard and was standing by the kitchen sink, gulping water.

His father was sitting at the table, looking pale and shaken.

Darren turned around, looked his brother straight in the eyes, and said, “I didn’t do it.”

Joe gritted his teeth. “You were there.”

“Joe,” his father said. “Please…”

“Yes. I was there.”

“You…” Joe made a lunge for his brother.

His father half rose as though to intervene, but Darren sidestepped him.

“I didn’t kill her.”

Joe’s fists were clenched, aching to connect with his brother’s face. “Then who
did?”

“I don’t know. When I got there, she was already gone, so I went to find Bobby.” Darren’s hand trembled as he drew another glass of water.

“You’re the one who—”

“I’m the one who put out the juice boxes and the snacks and made sure he couldn’t get out of his room.”

“There were no fingerprints.”