LITMIR.BIZ

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have more questions than answers right now. I need to talk to John. Have you heard from him?” Spencer watched their expressions carefully, trying to detect deceit.

      Lester tipped his head, hiding his eyes behind the brim of his straw hat. “Neh. We’re worried.”

      “My son had nothing to do with his wife’s death.” The bishop narrowed his gaze. He reached out and clutched a post to steady himself. “You haven’t been in town long, Sheriff. But one thing you must already know. The Amish are a peaceful people. This medical examiner...he is wrong.”

      “Someone slashed my tires last night.” Hannah stepped forward. “Any idea who would do that?”

      “It wasn’t John. He hasn’t been around. Don’t you think if my brother was around, he’d be consoling his children? He must not be in his right mind due to grief. There’s no other reason he’d stay away so long.” Lester took off his straw hat and rubbed his head. “None of this makes sense. What reason would John have to hurt Ruth and then come back and destroy property?”

      Spencer watched Lester. The man appeared genuinely distraught. “You’re all under tremendous stress right now. I’m not accusing anyone of anything. It’s my job to uncover the truth.”

      “We want the truth, too.” The bishop’s voice sounded shaky as he mopped his brow with a handkerchief.

      “Do you have any idea where John might have gone? Someplace he feels comfortable. Safe.”

      “He felt safest here at home.” A tall Amish man with broad shoulders ambled toward them. Spencer recognized him from around town. “Can’t imagine what would keep my good friend away when his daughters need him.” A look of disgust swept across the man’s face as he took in Hannah before his features smoothed into an appropriate look of solemnity. Or had Spencer imagined it?

      Spencer held out his hand. “I’m Sheriff Maxwell.”

      The man nodded but didn’t take his hand. “I know who you are.” He looped his thumbs through his suspenders. “I’m Willard Fisher. I live down the road where it meets Plum Crossing. John and I help each other out when we can. My boy Samuel has been caring for the animals while he’s gone.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I was away visiting family in Ohio. I wish I had been here to console him after his wife’s accident.”

      Lester puffed out his chest, as if in competition with the new arrival. “My brother was overcome with grief. He found his wife’s body. I can’t imagine what I’d do under the circumstances.”

      “Have faith.” Willard’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “Have faith in Gott and continue on.”

      “Do you know if John or Ruth had issue with anyone? Someone who might have wanted to hurt her?” Spencer shifted his stance, feeling as if he had to brace himself against the men’s displeasure.

      The bishop shook his head. “We lead simple lives.”

      “Are you saying Ruth’s death wasn’t an accident?” Willard frowned.

      “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

      Willard and Lester glanced at one another while Hannah looked like she was tired of holding her tongue.

      Spencer’s cell phone rang. He glanced at its display. “I have to get this. Excuse me.” As he stepped away, the back of his head prickled with the men’s laser-like gazes.

      * * *

      Hannah picked up the metal bucket and hung it upside down on the post near the barn. She watched the men to see if anyone had a reaction to the graffiti written on the bottom of the bucket.

      “Don’t let your English ways interfere with our peaceful life here.” Lester’s fiery gaze slid from the sheriff to her.

      Willard crossed his arms over his broad chest, but didn’t say anything. He obviously agreed. No one wanted an outsider living in their midst. She could dress up in her dead sister’s clothes, but no one would truly accept her until she embraced the Amish way and was baptized and found a suitable Amish husband.

      Hannah’s pulse whooshed in her ears. “My sister was murdered. You can’t ignore that. The sheriff has to do a thorough investigation. If John was involved, you can’t protect him.”

      Lester shook his head. “My brother had nothing to do with Ruth’s tragic death. It was an accident.”

      Hannah lifted her trembling hands to dismiss him. “I can’t listen to this.”

      She strode past Lester. He hollered after her, “Will you be joining us for church service tomorrow? We are having service in our home.”

      Hannah turned and tugged on the collar of her dress. The thought of sitting in a sweaty barn for three hours listening to Bishop Lapp talk did not appeal to her, but she knew she had to make an effort on account of the girls. Her air-conditioned church back in Buffalo had spoiled her. It wasn’t God she was opposed to, it was falling back into her old Amish lifestyle before she made a true decision. Things were happening so fast.

      “I have a lot of work to do around here,” she muttered, her brain racing for an excuse.

      “It’s Sunday,” the bishop said. “A day of rest.”

      “John and Ruth would want the children to go to church service,” Lester piled on.

       Low blow.

      “I’m not sure how I would get there.” Her car wasn’t an option even if her tires weren’t slashed.

      “My family can take the girls,” Willard offered.

      Hannah’s gaze shifted to the stern man and wondered where his son Samuel had gotten his soft-spoken demeanor. “I can take the girls to the service. Denki.” The Pennsylvania Dutch word for thank you slipped out of her mouth so naturally it caught her off guard. She’d take the horse and buggy, something she hadn’t done for years.

      Hannah thought she detected a low chuckle from Willard, and her cheeks immediately fired hot.

      “We look forward to seeing you there.” The bishop tapped the earth with his cane to emphasize his point. “You cannot live in two worlds.”

      “I’m doing my best,” Hannah said. “My priority is caring for my nieces.”

      Willard picked up the bucket and turned it over, studying the graffiti. “You found this in the barn?”

      Hannah swallowed around a knot in her throat. “Yes, seems someone wants me to leave.”

      Willard hung the bucket back on the post. “Shame to ruin a perfectly good bucket.” He turned and looked at Hannah. “Is my son doing the chores to your satisfaction?”

      “Samuel’s been a big help, thank you.” Hannah felt the need to defend Samuel, and she wasn’t sure why. “I hope his helping me here hasn’t caused you more work on your own farm.”

      “You need the help. John will be home soon, then Samuel will be back on my farm.” Willard said it so matter-of-factly, she wondered if he knew something she didn’t.

      Unexpected emotion rolled over Hannah. She lowered her voice. “I do hope John comes home soon and this—whatever this is—is all cleared up.”

      “He will,” the bishop said. “It’s best if you follow the Ordnung while you are here. I do not want my granddaughters to be influenced by worldly things. I will pray that once you are settled, you will decide to bend a knee.” The bishop made a few shuffle steps to turn around. He picked each step deliberately as he walked toward the house. A knot twisted her stomach. Would she ever be ready to be baptized in the Amish church?

      Lester stepped forward. His features softened, yet the angle of his mouth seemed strained. “Fannie Mae and I will raise Emma and Sarah. Gott has not yet blessed us with children.”

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