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.”
“I watch TV. I know how these things work. I used my handkerchief and shirtsleeves. I didn’t leave any prints.”
“If you didn’t kill her, why didn’t you get him out of there? Why didn’t you call the police?”
“Me? Call the police? The no-account brother showing up minutes after Grace was murdered? What are the chances? There’s no way I could have proved I didn’t do it.”
“You left my son in that house alone!”
“He was asleep, but he was never alone. I sat outside your house in my car all night, watching and wishing that my big-shot brother would come home.”
“You were there when I arrived?”
“Yes, but you didn’t see me. As soon as you came home, I left. You didn’t notice my rental car parked behind the house. I got lucky. Those houses are so big, no one bothers to look outside.”
“Why did you even go there in the first place?”
“There’s this business idea I had—a sure thing. I hoped you were good for one last hit.”
“Who killed her, Darren?”
“I don’t know. If I did, I’d tell you. Grace was always kind to me, even though I could tell she didn’t like me. She was a good person. She didn’t deserve that.”
“How long had she been gone when you got there?”
“I don’t know. I knew something was wrong when I saw the front door ajar. I knocked and called for Grace, but when no one came, I let myself in. I heard the back door slam as I walked into the living room. I think my sudden appearance might have saved Bobby’s life.” Darren laughed mirthlessly. “Actually, I might have accidentally done something right for a change.”
Joe glanced at their father. He seemed frozen into position, waiting for his sons to work things out.
Joe then stared at Darren as he sifted through everything his brother had told him. There was a tiny muscle at the side of Darren’s eye that twitched whenever he was lying. He’d never told his younger brother of his discovery, because he knew Darren would find a way to control it if he knew. Joe had won a lot of clandestine poker games when they were kids because of that telltale twitch.
It wasn’t there.
His brother was telling the truth.