Chapter 20
Rachel bowed her head and closed her eyes as the preacher’s words floated in her head. She felt so at peace here, today, seated on the women’s side of the worship service between her mother and her Aunt Hannah. She didn’t come often; usually she stayed home with her mother while the rest of the family went to service. She’d been worried that the long day today might tire her mother, but her mam appeared well, almost radiant. Three different elders had offered sermons today, the bishop and both preachers, so church was running longer than usual. This was the second session of preaching, after the break for the shared midday meal. Rachel guessed that it was somewhere between two and three o’clock, but it really didn’t matter. There were no set rules about how long the services might run.
Strange how church days sometimes seemed long and boring to her. Not so today. She treasured every moment. It was what the bishop had asked them to do, to cherish their loved ones and to give thanks to God for every blessing, because we could so quickly lose the ones closest to us. Elsie and Dathan’s names had been mentioned only once, but everyone knew that their thoughts and prayers centered on the families and bringing them peace and acceptance. “They sit in His holy presence, basking in the light of His countenance,” Preacher Reuben was saying. “And those of us who remain faithful will be with them again.” He went on to warn them against anger and remind them to pray for all those involved, because those who had done harm to us deserved forgiveness.
Rachel opened her eyes and glanced sideways at her Aunt Hannah. She had remained so strong, but Rachel knew she had to be in great pain at the loss of her daughter. All of her friends and all of her children were here with her today to support her, all but one. Rachel had seen her aunt searching for one absent face. Mary Aaron hadn’t come to worship. Mary Aaron was going through a spiritual crisis, Rachel got that, but her mother needed her. She should have come to church whether she wanted to or not. Her sister hadn’t been in her grave a full week.
Rachel tried to push thoughts of Mary Aaron and her personal struggle away. This wasn’t the time. And it wasn’t her place to judge her cousin. She hadn’t wanted to attend church when she was fighting her own battle, trying to decide whether to go or stay.
Today, Rachel had come to service in one of her mother’s dresses, a sister’s black stockings, and a scarf of her own choosing. It was easier to blend in and not be a distraction if she looked like everyone else. The skirts and dresses she wore to the Methodist church wouldn’t be suitable here. She wasn’t trying to look Amish, but neither did she want to offend anyone by dressing too fancy. It had apparently worked, because everyone at the service treated her like everyone else. She’d helped to serve the midday communal meal, and she’d shared in the laughter and familiar talk as well as the chores.
Rachel looked over at the men’s side, where her father sat beside her Uncle Aaron. The two had never been especially close; Uncle Aaron was too severe for her father’s taste. But her uncle was grieving, and Rachel’s dat had been quick to step to his side. He might think the man too stern in his ways, but her dat’s heart went out to a brother-in-law’s pain. Good men, both of them, Rachel thought, and they had each taught her so much about life.
How she wished Evan were here. She’d intended to call him about the blue trucks, but it would have to wait. She had completely forgotten that he’d told her she couldn’t reach him by phone until he headed home. The last section of the class was classified, and the participants traveled to an undisclosed location for the final days of the program. No contact by phone was allowed. She was so proud of him. He’d worried that he wouldn’t be able to keep up with the amount of material or pass the physical and mental tests. Evan hadn’t been one whom academics came easy to, but he was determined and when he put his mind to something, he never quit until he reached his goal. If he had to study twenty hours rather than four or five for an exam, he did it. Evan was a special person, deeply caring and understanding, and she knew how fortunate she was that she’d found him. She loved him with all of her heart, but that didn’t stop her from wondering if they could ever close the gap between her world and his. She desperately wanted—
“Rachel,” her aunt whispered. “The hymn. Stand up.”
“Atch.” She quickly rose to her feet as every voice rose around her. Her mother offered her a heavy German hymnal, but Rachel smiled and shook her head. She knew the words. Sung without accompaniment, the slow dirge rose in volume until it echoed off the rafters of the barn. Men’s voices from across the dividing aisle and the high, sweet notes of children seated with their mothers and sisters blended in an outpouring of praise. The sound of the ancient hymn flowed over Rachel and seeped under her skin, raising gooseflesh on her arms and filling her with the joy of God’s grace.
The hymn was a long one, and when the final notes drifted through the open doors into the crisp September day, tears were running down Rachel’s face. Most Amish services were held in church members’ homes, but the Millers’ house was small and their old stone barn large. Hand-hewn rafters cut from virgin timber more than two hundred years ago stretched overhead, so high that the roof was lost in shadows. The walls were stone, and the floor wide-plank pine with the marks of centuries of hard work and passage, but the air was sweet with the scent of new timothy hay, and every surface had been scrubbed, whitewashed, or raked to make the interior of the barn fit for worship. And who could complain of a service held in a stable, when the Bible told them that the Son of God was born in one?
Aunt Hannah handed her a handkerchief. Rachel nodded thanks and wiped her eyes. She wished she’d thought to bring tissues, because she needed to blow her nose, but she’d never dirty her aunt’s hand-stitched hankie. And then, the strangest thing happened. Her mother reached over and patted her hand.
Rachel looked into her face, and for an instant met her mother’s loving gaze. A sob rose in Rachel’s throat. Everyone was getting to their feet for another hymn. Her mother leaned over her head to Aunt Hannah. “Tell her not to despair, but to trust in the Lord. He made her smart and different for a reason. If she has faith, He will lead her to the truth.”
The women around them were singing loudly. Rachel stood, but although she was familiar with the hymn, she couldn’t manage to get the words out. Her aunt put an arm around her and whispered in her ear, “Your mother says—”
“I heard her.” Rachel muffled her crying with the handkerchief. She glanced at her mother, who was now standing erect and singing lustily. But Rachel knew the smile was for her, and her spirit soared. “I love you,” she murmured.
Esther Mast stared straight ahead, her lips moving to the words.
“She loves you, too,” Aunt Hannah whispered. “She’s just too stubborn to say so.”
* * *
Two hours later, Rachel stood in what had once been the driveway of the Zook house looking at the wagon tracks in the tall grass. Someone had been there recently, and that someone had driven a horse, because the horse had left definite proof. “Is horse manure enough solid evidence, Lucy?” she said aloud, dialing the policewoman’s cell phone.
“Stay there. I’m not more than ten minutes away,” Lucy said when Rachel had explained what she’d found and where she was. “But I’m on duty, so it will have to be a quick stop.”
Rachel scanned the undergrowth. Had Dathan and Elsie been here? And if they had, why had they left the wagon and walked away? The tall grass made for poor walking. There were a lot of briars and an outcropping of rock, a good hiding place for rattlesnakes. Snakes like to sun themselves on the stone on a cool day. Rachel kept a distance from the rocks. Snakes were mostly dormant at night. Dathan would have known that, but would they have taken the chance and walked over them? She didn’t think so. If a couple stopped here to share a few kisses, there would have been no need to leave the wagon. But Lettie had said the wagon had been empty. It didn’t make any sense.
“Those are definitely wagon-wheel tracks,” Rachel explained when Lucy arrived a few minutes later.
“Unfortunately, it’s not really evidence. Any wagon or buggy or who knows what could have been here.” Lucy looked older and more formidable in her uniform, what with the boots and tall hat. And she sounded more serious as well. “And I’m not sure how credible a witness your sister is,” she went on, “being that she first said she didn’t see anything, and now, a week later, remembers seeing a wagon with no one in it that she thought was Dathan Bender’s.”
“I know how this seems, but I think she’s telling the truth. And the timing was right for this to be evidence that Elsie and Dathan stopped here.”
Lucy kicked at the weeds. “Not much of a spot for a romantic stroll in the moonlight.”
“No,” Rachel replied. “But there was something else I wanted to ask you.” She went on to tell her about the car that she’d believed green that was actually blue. “So I’m thinking that maybe the guy I talked to might have been wrong about the color of the truck that was driving aggressively along this stretch on Friday night. I still think the truck could have had something to do with Elsie and Dathan’s disappearance.” She stared out at the grass wondering if this was the place Elsie had been harmed. “We checked out all the green trucks, but we didn’t check blue ones.” She looked back at Lucy. “Do you think it’s a waste of time to have a look at blue ones?” She thought about Buddy’s truck. There was no way he could have had anything to do with Elsie’s and Dathan’s deaths. But his behavior had been strange. Even for Buddy. And where was his blue truck if he didn’t have it and it wasn’t at Howdy’s?
“Absolutely not. We get a report of a robber who stands six feet tall, but when we finally catch him, he’s only five and a half. He just looked bigger from the business end of a gun. And eyewitnesses, don’t get me started on them. The person who swears they are positively certain they can identify a suspect can be off on age, race, even the sex of another person. And a group of witnesses can all give different statements. Humans are fallible. And many times people say what they think the questioner wants to hear.”
Rachel nodded and then looked up at her. “You think you could help me get the list?”
“Nope. Same reason as before. What I can do is try to find out where the case is right now. I’ve heard nothing, but Detective Starkey is in Aruba now. With him out of the office, I think I can get some information. I’m sorry. I wish I could offer more help.”
A call came over Lucy’s radio, and the trooper moved toward her car to respond. “Got to run,” she said after responding. “A truck turned over and forty pigs are playing havoc with traffic on the highway. If you get that list of blue trucks, let me know. I won’t be off again until next weekend, but I’d be glad to give you a hand checking out the trucks then.”
Without Evan’s help or Lucy’s, Rachel felt that her chances of getting the list of blue trucks wasn’t good. Not good, but not impossible. She wasn’t giving up. If she couldn’t get the information from Evan, maybe she knew someone who worked in Motor V, or maybe Hulda or George did. She’d just have to keep trying.
In the meantime, there was one blue truck she could track down. She got back in the Jeep and headed for Howdy’s.
If Sis was surprised to see her at their door late on a Sunday afternoon in Amish clothing, she didn’t show it. “Whatcha need, Rachel?” the woman asked. “We don’t get much call for towing broke-down buggies.” She grinned at her own joke.
Rachel chuckled. “I’m sure you don’t. Is Howdy home? I need to ask him something.”
“What about?” Sis opened the door a little wider. She was wearing bib overalls and a pink cowgirl shirt with fake pearl buttons on the cuffs. She rounded out the outfit with fringed pink cowboy boots. As far as Rachel knew, Sis hadn’t grown up on a ranch, didn’t own a horse, didn’t ride. She was one of Stone Mill’s more interesting characters, but everyone liked her, at least everyone who didn’t have their eye on Howdy.
“I was just wondering about a new set of tires for my Jeep. Buddy Wheeler said he got a good deal on truck tires this week. Some kind of sale.”
“Buddy Wheeler buy new tires from us?” Sis scoffed. The woman wore her hair in pigtails. They were inky black and tied with rawhide laces that had little bells that jingled when she moved. Rachel wondered how that worked out if you were stalking deer. “Buddy Wheeler don’t have the money to buy a gas cap, let alone tires. When Howdy sees him, it’s to patch up a blown tire or put on a new muffler. He goes through mufflers like a house afire.” She peered at Rachel with a puzzled expression. “He buy new tires from somebody else? Must have been on tick. You see him, you tell him he still owes us for that head gasket last fall. He keeps promising, but Howdy never sees a red cent.”
“So you don’t have Buddy’s truck in your shop?” Rachel asked.
“My meat’s about to burn. Come on in.” Sis retreated to the stove, which wasn’t far. The back door opened into the kitchen. A big pot of greens was boiling on the stove, and beside it was a cast-iron frying pan full of venison steaks. The ceiling was low, and the peeling wallpaper straight out of the ’70s. “You hungry? You’re welcome to stay for supper. Fresh venison. Shot yesterday.”
“Thank you, but I ate at church. You know we always have a big midday meal on worship days. I couldn’t eat another bite. Really.”
“Howdy! Howdy, get out here! Rachel Mast wants to know the price on new tires for her Jeep!”
Howdy came through a curtained-off doorway that Rachel guessed led to their bedroom. He was clad in clean overalls with his long underwear beneath them, and stockinged feet. His socks were hunter orange. He rubbed his stubbly chin. “Give you a great deal, Miss Rachel. When you want to come by?”
“Next week, maybe the week after,” Rachel stalled. There would be no getting out of it. Whether she needed them or not, she was probably getting new tires. “I was thinking of winter ones,” she said. “Something good for these roads when the weather gets bad.”
“I can fix you right up,” Howdy assured her. He pulled out a chair. “We’re just fixing to eat. You want something?”
“I asked her already,” Sis said as she forked the steaks onto two plates. “She says she ain’t hungry. Had a big feed this afternoon with the Amish. I’m guessing that’s why she’s dressed thata way.” She pointed at Rachel with the big fork.
“Sorry to hear about that little gal.” Howdy plopped himself into an oversized chair at the table. “Aaron Hostetler’s daughter. She’s kin to you, ain’t she? You think that Amish boy killed her?”
“No, I don’t,” Rachel said.
“Buddy Wheeler told her he bought new tires off us this week,” Sis said.
Howdy shook his head. “Lies like a dog, that boy.”
Sis heaped greens on the plates. The kitchen smelled of grease and motor oil. “I just made a pan of biscuits,” the woman said. “You sure you don’t want one? Them big ones out of the freezer section. Better than homemade any day.”
“No thanks.” Rachel backed toward the door. “I’ll be in touch about those tires.”
“Fix you right up,” Howdy promised.
“And you see that good-for-nothing Buddy, you tell him he still owes us four hundred dollars. No checks. I want cash this time,” Sis insisted.
Rachel made her escape and returned to her Jeep. Inside, she rested her hands on the steering wheel. So Buddy hadn’t told the truth about his truck being at the garage. Where was it if it wasn’t at Howdy’s? And why had he lied?
Rachel drove back down the drive from the garage. She checked her phone for messages. She’d called Mary Aaron at the inn just before she’d left the Zook property, but her cousin hadn’t returned the call. Which was weird. Mary Aaron always called back right away.
Rachel called Stone Mill House again. It rang four times and then went to voicemail. Perplexed, she listened to her own voice telling callers that they’d reached Stone Mill House and to please leave a number and someone would call them back as soon as possible. She hung up, waited two minutes, and then tried again with the same result. Was Mary Aaron outside? She decided to call Hulda and see if her cousin was over there.
“Mary Aaron?” Hulda said. “I haven’t heard from her all day. Expected her over here lunchtime. I’ve been right here.”
“Hmm. She wasn’t in church today,” Rachel said, thinking out loud. Was Mary Aaron just ignoring her calls because she didn’t want to talk to her? She tapped her foot nervously against the floorboard.
“She hasn’t been herself lately, that’s for certain,” Hulda said. “But she’s had good reason, and so have you. I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll just walk over there and ask her to give you a call.”
“I’ve called a couple of times in the last hour and got no answer.”
“Maybe she’s in the grape arbor or the garden.”
“No, I don’t think so. It’s Sunday,” Rachel said. “Amish don’t work on Sunday.”
“Picking flowers hardly counts as working,” Hulda said.
“I’m over at Howdy’s Garage and Tow. Maybe I should come home.”
“Honey, what did I say? It’s no trouble for me to go over. And if she needs help, I’m glad to pitch in. It gives me something to do other than to tell these worthless children of mine what they are doing wrong at the emporium. They don’t like it. I don’t like it. I should have sold the whole thing years ago. I knew there wasn’t one of them smart enough to screw in a light bulb, let alone run a business.”
Deciding to wait on the call before she headed back to her parents’ house, Rachel got out of the Jeep and walked around it. Her tires were in good shape, but they weren’t heavy-duty winter tires. Maybe she could have these four taken off and saved for next spring. They were too good to trade in or throw away. She wished she hadn’t used the tire excuse to pry information out of Howdy’s wife. At least she didn’t have to feed tires or clean their litter box like the kitten she was talked into. Or the goats.
Rachel wondered how long it could take for Hulda to have Mary Aaron call back. They must be outside. But Hulda had a cell. She might be ninety-something, but the lady was up to speed with high-tech. Hulda was a blessing. Of all the neighbors she could have had, she couldn’t imagine anyone better.
Two buggies went by; the occupants waved. One adorable small boy in a straw hat peered at her from the rear window of the second buggy. Rachel tried to retrieve the sense of calm she’d had when she’d left church that afternoon. She’d been really calm for the first time all week. And maybe, finally, there’d been a breakthrough with her mother.
Another Amish family came down the road in an open wagon. The mother held a small baby, and the back of the wagon was filled with red-haired children from toddlers to early teens. “Hello, Rachel!” they all shouted in Deitsch. She greeted them in return. It was such a serene afternoon. The sun was out, there was a light breeze, and there wasn’t a cloud in the crystal-blue sky. She was simply keyed up over the whole week’s frustrations. Mary Aaron would call back, and they’d have a good laugh over her worries.
Her cell finally rang and she answered too loudly.
“It’s Hulda.”
Rachel didn’t like the sound of her neighbor’s voice. “What’s wrong?”
“Mary Aaron’s not here at the inn.”
“What do you mean, she’s not there? She’s supposed to be on duty.”
“No, Rachel. She’s gone.” Hulda sounded as if she was about to burst into tears. “And it’s all my fault.”