The following morning, Roman looked out the kitchen window and spotted Sheriff Osborn’s car pulling in. As the sheriff stepped onto the porch, Roman went to open the door.
“Your sister came by my office yesterday and said someone had thrown a brick through your bedroom window,” the sheriff said.
“Took you long enough to get here,” Roman mumbled.
The sheriff stiffened. “I’m doing the best I can.”
“Jah, well, I don’t see how you’re ever going to find out who’s responsible for the attacks that have been done here if you don’t keep a closer watch on our place.” Roman grunted. “Doesn’t make much sense for us to notify you when something happens if you don’t care enough to check things out right away.”
“It’s not that I don’t care. If you’ll recall, you haven’t always notified me right away.”
“That may be true, but you were notified this time, and you don’t show up until today.”
The sheriff cleared his throat a few times and raised himself to his full height. “I’m a busy man, and I don’t have time to stand around here all day debating the issue with you. I came to see if I could find any evidence, and that’s what I plan to do.” He moved toward the porch steps. “You want to show me exactly which window the brick came through?”
“Jah, sure.” Roman followed the sheriff down the steps, and they walked across the grass. “That’s the one.” Roman pointed to the first floor window he’d patched with a piece of plywood.
“I’ll take a look around out here in the yard,” the sheriff said. “There might be some footprints showing or some other evidence that could help me find out who threw that brick.”
Roman stood off to one side as Sheriff Osborn studied the lawn and the ground beneath the bedroom window. After several minutes of looking, the sheriff shook his head and said, “No footprints in the flower beds, and it would be hard to spot any in the grass unless there was snow on the ground. Don’t see anything lying around that might give me any clues, either.” He glanced at the house. “Mind if I have a word with your wife?”
Roman shook his head. “That’s not possible.”
“Why not?”
“Judith’s asleep in our room right now.”
“I can come by later this afternoon.”
“No, I … I don’t think Judith will be up to talking to you at all.” Roman rubbed the back of his head. “You see, Judith kind of went into shock after the brick flew through the window, and I had to take her to the doctor’s yesterday.”
The sheriff nodded. “Yes, your sister mentioned that.”
“The doctor gave Judith some medicine to take—something to calm her nerves and allow her to sleep.” Roman continued to rub the spot on the back of his head. “Even if she was feeling up to talking to you today, she wouldn’t have anything more to say than I’ve already told you.”
“How about your daughter, Martha? Was she at home when this happened?”
Roman nodded.
“Is she here now?”
He nodded again.
“Mind if I speak with her?”
Roman moved toward the house. “I’ll get her now.”
Martha had just slipped a batch of sticky buns into the oven when the back door opened and Dad stepped into the kitchen. “Sheriff Osborn’s here,” he said. “He wants to speak with you.”
Martha’s forehead wrinkled. “What does he want?”
“Said he wants to question you about the brick being thrown through our bedroom window. Guess he wants to know if you heard or saw anything suspicious.”
Martha nibbled on her bottom lip as she contemplated how much she should tell the sheriff. Not that she knew that much, really. She’d been asleep when the incident happened and hadn’t seen anyone in the yard. But she had found that beer bottle and the ballpoint pen when she’d looked around the yard yesterday morning.
Dad rubbed the back of his head and squinted like he might be in pain.
“Have you got a headache?” she asked.
“Jah. Feels like a bunch of horses have been stamping on the back of my head. When things calm down around here, I may have to see the chiropractor.”
“That’s probably a good idea.”
He inched toward the door. “Are you comin’ or not?” Martha nodded. “I’ll be right there. Just let me set the timer so these buns don’t burn.”
“I’ll see you outside then.”
Moments later, Martha went outside. “My dad says you want to speak to me,” she said to the sheriff, who stood on the porch, leaning against the railing.
He nodded. “Just wondered if you saw or heard anything the other night when the brick was thrown through your folks’ bedroom window.”
“The only thing I heard was the loud noise from the window being broken.”
“Did you find any evidence?”
Martha wasn’t sure how she should answer the sheriff’s question. She didn’t want to lie, but she didn’t feel she should tell him about the pen she’d put in the kitchen drawer, either. Not with him being on their list of suspects. “I … uh … found a broken beer bottle in the yard.”
“Where is it now?”
“I threw it away so no one would step on it.”
“That’s just great.” The sheriff moaned. “I thought I told you before not to touch any evidence you found after one of these attacks. How are we supposed to check for fingerprints if you toss the evidence?”
Martha’s face heated up. “I’m sorry.”
“Please remember, the next time you find any evidence, leave it there, and call me right away.”
Ruth’s heartbeat matched the rhythm of the horse’s hooves as she traveled down the road toward her folks’ place in one of Abe’s buggies. She’d left Molly and Owen with Aunt Rosemary for a few hours so she could see how Mom was doing. She feared if the attacks didn’t stop, Mom might never be the same.
As Ruth approached her parents’ driveway, she spotted Sheriff Osborn’s car pulling out. He glanced her way, lifted one hand in a quick wave, and tore off down the road.
I wonder if the sheriff came to talk to Dad about the brick being thrown through their window. Hopefully he’ll be able to find out who’s behind these attacks and put a stop to them, once and for all.
Just as Ruth pulled her horse and buggy up to the hitching rail, Cleon stepped out of the barn. “If you’re going to be here awhile, I’ll put your horse in the corral,” he offered.
“Danki,” she said with a smile. “I came to check on Mom, so I’ll probably be here a few hours.”
Cleon’s forehead creased. “She’s not been the same since that brick was thrown through your folks’ bedroom window. I think it really put her over the edge.”
Ruth nodded. “She’s been getting more nervous after each attack.”
“The sheriff came to see your daed this morning, so maybe he’ll have some answers soon,” Cleon said as he helped Ruth out of the buggy.
“I hope that’s the case.” She slowly shook her head. “These horrible attacks have gone on long enough. We all need some answers.”
“You’re right about that.” Cleon started to unhitch the horse. “When I get your horse put away, I’ll be in the barn working with your daed. When you’re ready to go home, come get me, and I’ll take care of hitching your horse to the buggy again.”
“I will. Danki.” Ruth hurried toward the house. When she entered the kitchen a few minutes later, she was surprised to see Mom fully dressed and sitting at the table, drinking a cup of tea. “It’s good to see you up,” Ruth said, bending to give her mother a hug. “I thought I might find you in bed.”
Mom stared at Ruth as though she was looking right through her and said in a placid tone of voice, “I’m having a cup of tea.”
Ruth nodded and looked over at Martha, who sat in a chair on the other side of the table.
“We need to talk,” Martha whispered.
“Talk … talk …” Mom shook her head. “No, I’m too tired to talk.”
Martha slid her chair back and stood in front of Mom. “Why don’t I walk you down to your room so you can rest awhile?” she said, placing one hand on Mom’s shoulder.
Mom stood silently and walked slowly out of the room. Martha followed.
Ruth sighed and reached for the teapot sitting in the middle of the table. Mom might be up and dressed, but she was definitely not herself.
Martha returned to the kitchen a few minutes later and took a seat. “I’m glad you came by. As I said, we need to talk.”
“About Mom, you mean?” Martha nodded.
“If Grace is at home, maybe we should see if she’d like to be in on this discussion. Dad, too, for that matter,” Ruth quickly added.
“I’ve already talked to Grace, but I need your input before we can talk to Dad.”
Ruth leaned forward with her elbows on the table. “Mom’s not doing well at all, is she?”
Martha shook her head. “If not for the medication the doctor put her on, she wouldn’t even be out of bed or saying much of anything to us.”
“But the little she said to me didn’t make much sense. It was as though she hasn’t a care in the world—like she’s in a daze or something.”
“Exactly.” Martha poured herself a cup of tea and took a sip. “The medication is helping Mom get out of bed, but it’s keeping her so doped up that she can barely respond to things going on around her. She can’t spend the rest of her life taking medication for her nerves, and we can’t continue to live our lives in fear that there will be another attack.”
Ruth fingered her untouched cup of tea. “Is there anything we can do about this?”
“I think the first thing we need to do is figure out some way to help Mom—something that doesn’t involve her taking a lot of medication to keep her calmed down.”
“Do you have any ideas?”
Martha nodded. “When I spoke with Grace last night, she suggested we send Mom up to Geauga County to stay with Dad’s brother, Walt, and his wife, Mary, for a while.”
Ruth rubbed her chin as she contemplated the idea. “How’s that going to help?”
“Mom will be safe at Walt’s place, and if any more attacks take place here, she won’t know about them or have to deal with the fear of what might happen.” Martha picked up the jar of honey sitting on the table, added a bit to her cup of tea, and stirred it around with her spoon. “I think if Mom has some time away from all this, her nerves might heal.”
“What’s Dad think about the idea?”
“Neither Grace nor I have said anything to him yet. We wanted to get your opinion first.”
Ruth nodded. “I’m all for it. Even if Mom’s nervous condition doesn’t improve up at Walt’s, at least we’ll know she’s in a safe place.”
Martha pushed away from the table. “While Mom’s taking her nap, maybe I’ll go up to Grace’s house and get her; then the three of us can have a little talk with Dad.”