On the way home, as I charged my phone again, a call came in from the leader of the four-string quartet we’d booked for the reception. I slammed my hand against the steering wheel. If I wasn’t in Amish country, I might have cursed. I held my tongue, although I wasn’t sure I could for long. Had I ever really known Ryan? How could I have been so easily deceived? He appeared kind and caring. I never would have guessed he’d treat me so poorly. Never.
When I pulled into Mammi’s driveway, I gasped. A Jeep was parked where the pickup had been earlier. I pulled up behind it.
Was Tommy Miller in Mammi’s kitchen?
I lugged the bag up the back steps and to the mudroom, placed it on the shelf, and hung up my coat. Next, I ventured into the kitchen. Sitting at the table were Mammi, Wanda Miller, and Tommy, who held a toddler on his lap. The little boy looked up at me and waved. He had big brown eyes, light mahogany skin, a headful of curly dark hair, and a big smile on his face.
My heart melted as I waved back.
Tommy turned his head toward me. “Hello, Savannah.”
I waved at him too. “Nice to see you again.”
He smiled. “Ditto.”
“Did you know it was me the other night?”
He nodded.
“But you didn’t say anything.”
He nodded again. “You didn’t either.”
“Because I thought you were Kenny M. I didn’t recognize you.”
He stroked his goatee. “Sorry.”
“Who’s this?” I smiled at the little boy again.
“Mason,” Tommy answered.
“Hey, Mason.” I knelt down so I could be eye level with him and held up my hand for a high five. “I’m Savannah. How old are you, buddy?”
He slapped my palm and laughed, then looked at Tommy. “Dada.”
Tommy smiled. “He says he’s pleased to meet you, and he wants you to know that he’s eighteen months.”
“Sit down and have a cup of coffee,” Mammi said to me. “We’re all just catching up. Tommy didn’t have to work today and came over to say hello.” I wondered if his intention was to say hello to Mammi or to me. Or maybe both of us. I didn’t ask.
I headed to the stove and grabbed the pot. “Anyone need a refill?”
“I’ll take one.” Tommy moved his cup away from Mason. I filled it and then filled a cup for myself and sat down next to Wanda, across from Tommy. He appeared to be a natural with the little boy. I couldn’t help but wonder who the mother was—and where she was.
“So, what have you been up to?” Tommy asked me.
“Oh, you know, freelance midwifery in the middle of the night during a blizzard. That sort of thing.”
“Why didn’t you say who you really were?”
He cringed. “I feel bad about that. I happened to hear Kenny’s phone buzz and glanced at it. I would have ignored it, but when I saw the name Savannah, I thought it might be you. My Mamm had said you were coming for a visit, and I didn’t want you to be stranded on a country road. Once I saw you and realized it was you but that you didn’t recognize me, I just decided to let it go.” He sighed. “Sorry.”
“Where’s Kenny?” I asked.
“Why do you ask?”
“You must have had his phone for some reason.”
“I did. He was . . . indisposed.”
“Who had Mason that night?”
Tommy nodded toward his mother. “My mom did.”
I leaned forward. “So, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “Except that you’re grilling me.”
“Did you know that Miriam is missing? She never came back that night.”
“I dropped her off at the house.” He pulled out a phone and held it up. “It was around two in the morning.”
I thought back to that night. I would have been on the phone with Delores, trying to deliver the placenta. “Miriam never came in the house. And I never heard a vehicle or a car door slam or anything.”
“I parked over by the barn,” he said. “I couldn’t get close to the house, remember?”
“Did you watch Miriam walk into the house?”
“I waited until she was on the back steps . . .” His voice trailed off.
I stood and walked to the mudroom, retrieving Deputy Rogers’s card from my coat pocket. I returned to the kitchen and handed it to Tommy. “This deputy wants to ask you a few questions.”
He took the card and grimaced. Clearly he recognized the name on the card. After a long moment, he met my gaze. “I didn’t have anything to do with Miriam disappearing.”
I shrugged. “Tell the deputy.”
Tommy, with Mason still in his arms, dug his phone out of his pocket and glanced at Mammi as if asking permission to use it.
“Go ahead,” she said. “This is important.” She hadn’t minded me using my phone either. She’d told me sometime in the last year, more Youngie who hadn’t joined the church were using their cell phones in Amish houses. It was becoming harder and harder for parents to completely enforce a “use it in the barn” or “use it outside” rule.
Tommy punched in the number. After saying hello, he said, “Savannah Mast said you want to speak with me.” There was a pause. “I can meet you wherever you want.” Another pause. “I’m at the Mast place right now. Dorothy Mast’s farm.” He gave Deputy Rogers the address and then said, “I’ll wait here until you arrive.”
When he ended the call, he looked at his mother. “When the deputy comes, would you take Mason to another room? I don’t want him to be confused.”
“Of course,” Wanda said.
Mammi stood and pulled a tray of cinnamon rolls from the oven. “I just need to drizzle the icing on these,” she said. “And then you can offer one to the deputy.” She turned toward Tommy. “Do you want me to leave the room with your mother?”
“That might be for the best,” Tommy said and then looked at me. “But would you stay?”
I nodded, although I couldn’t fathom why he wanted me there. It wasn’t as if I could confirm his story, or even vouch for his character. Tommy wasn’t the boy I used to know.
Ten minutes later, the rolls were covered with a cream cheese icing and Mammi, Wanda, and Mason had ventured into a back room. When Deputy Rogers knocked on the front door, I opened it. He frowned and then said gruffly, “That was fast work.”
I didn’t reply. Instead, I asked if I could take his coat. He shook his head and motioned for me to lead the way toward the kitchen.
“Well, well, well.” Deputy Rogers stopped in the archway and crossed his arms over his broad chest, made even wider by his thick parka. “So we meet again.”
Tommy stood and strode toward him, his hand extended.
The deputy looked him up and down in what appeared to be a clear attempt to intimidate Tommy. He gripped his hand tightly and shook it up and down.
“I hope you won’t hold my youthful foolishness against me,” Tommy said.
“I will if you haven’t put it behind you.”
“I can assure you I have.” Tommy gestured toward the table. “How about a cup of coffee?”
Deputy Rogers finally let go of Tommy’s hand. “Sure.”
“I’ll get it.” I needed something to do besides watch the alpha-male power struggle before me. I poured the deputy a cup and then dished cinnamon rolls onto three plates and distributed those too.
When we were all settled around the table, Deputy Rogers picked up his fork and held it over the cinnamon roll as if he might stab it. “What brings you back to Nappanee?” he asked Tommy.
“My mother. A job.” Tommy shrugged. “The same things that draw most people back home.”
Without responding to Tommy, the deputy slashed into the cinnamon roll, cut off a section, and took a bite, chewing slowly. After he swallowed, he glanced at me. “Delicious.”
“Oh, I can’t take any credit,” I said. “My grandmother made them.”
“Well, tell her thank you,” he said and took another bite, washing it down with a drink of coffee. Then he turned to Tommy again. “Where’s Miriam Wenger?”
“I have no idea.” Tommy hadn’t touched his cinnamon roll.
“When did you see her last?”
He pulled out the phone again and said, “Early on Sunday, around two in the morning, when I dropped her off at the Wenger farm.”
They went over Tommy’s timeline for the night, from when he picked me up to when he dropped me off and picked up Miriam. “I took Miriam to a house in Nappanee, on the corner of Main and Elm. The place was lit up, and there were lots of cars and people hanging out on the porch. Then, because I was awake, I picked up a few more riders. After I took Miriam back to the house and was headed home, I got another request. From a Joshua W.”
Deputy Rogers’s bushy eyebrows shot up.
“Jah, it was Joshua Wenger,” Tommy clarified. “And Vernon was with him.”
“Joshua has a cell phone?” the deputy asked.
“Apparently so. I picked them up at a house off Cardinal Street, took them home, and then went back to my apartment and turned off the phone.”
“What’s your relationship with Kenny Miller?” Deputy Rogers asked.
“First, right?”
“Correct.” Tommy held up the phone. “This is his. He’s been staying with me at my apartment in town. Kenny’s been driving for extra money, but he left without his phone Saturday night. When it buzzed and I saw it was a woman named Savannah, I decided to go get her.”
“Why?”
Tommy glanced my way. “I thought it might be Savannah Mast because my mother said she was coming for a visit. We were childhood friends. I didn’t want her stranded out in the storm.”
Deputy Rogers frowned. “How did you know she was the Savannah you knew?”
“I didn’t, but I figured the chances were pretty high. Savannah isn’t a common name around here.”
Deputy Rogers jotted something down and then asked, “Have you been in contact with Kenny?”
Tommy shook his head. “Not since around eight in the evening on New Year’s Eve.”
“Is he driving his Camry?”
“I assume so. It hasn’t been parked at the apartment complex since then. But he doesn’t have his cell phone with him, so I can’t contact him to find out.”
“Any idea where he might be?”
Tommy shook his head.
“Do you think he’s in some sort of trouble?”
“I don’t know,” Tommy said. “I hope not.”
“Any reason you think he might be? Has he been in trouble recently? I mean, the two of you were in trouble all the time as teenagers.”
Tommy exhaled. Then he took a sip of coffee and finally answered, “Yes, he’s been in trouble since then.”
“He was arrested for drug distribution in New Mexico. Evading the police in Arizona. And shoplifting in Nevada.” Tommy wrapped his hands around his mug. “I think that’s all.”
“What about manufacturing drugs in Arizona?”
Tommy cringed. “He didn’t tell me about that.”
“Were you two traveling together out West?”
“Some,” Tommy said. “But not all of the time.”
“Can you give me names and addresses of people he hung out with here? Or whom he might have gone out with on Saturday night?”
Tommy shook his head. “Look, we moved back here in September. I got an apartment and let him stay with me. I didn’t want to get involved with anything else. I figured the less I knew the better, which in retrospect wasn’t the best idea. But Kenny is twenty-eight. I can’t control him.” He sighed again. “I’ve tried.”
Deputy Rogers took a few more bites to finish his cinnamon roll, followed by another drink of coffee. Then he pushed back his chair. “Well, thank you, Tommy Miller. I need your cell phone number—not Kenny’s.”
Tommy rattled off the number.
“Make sure and hold on to Kenny’s phone,” the deputy said. “It might be needed later.”
“Look,” Tommy said. “I was going to head back to Nevada.”
“You need to hold off on that until we figure out where Miriam is.”
“Is this a criminal investigation?” Tommy asked. “Isn’t she eighteen?”
I winced. It wasn’t exactly that he sounded guilty, but still, the questions seemed a little suspect.
“We need to know she left on her own volition,” Deputy Rogers said. “And that there wasn’t any foul play.”
Tommy nodded coolly. “I can wait a few days.”
Deputy Rogers drained his mug. “I’ll be in touch.”
Tommy met the man’s gaze and nodded but didn’t smile.
Deputy Rogers stood. I did too. He said, “No need to walk me out.”
I ignored him and strode after him as he walked to the front door. As we neared it, I hurried ahead and stood in front of it. “What’s really going on here?”
“I can’t discuss the case with you.”
I crossed my arms. “How worried should I be about all of this? For Miriam’s sake?”
He crossed his arms in response. “Fentanyl is being sold in the area, and there have been a few bad batches. We’ve been trying to figure out who the source is for a few months now, and the problem started about the time Kenny and Tommy came back to town.”
“That hardly ties Tommy to Miriam’s disappearance—”
He cut me off. “Call me, like you did today, if you see or hear anything suspicious.”
I turned the knob and pulled the door open. He stepped through without saying good-bye. I watched him march down the steps. I knew from my work-related research into the prescription drug epidemic that Indiana, along with so many other states, had been affected by opioid abuse. Fentanyl seemed to be the next one to surface in many communities, including in Northern California, once the number of opioid prescriptions decreased. I hoped that Kenny and Tommy weren’t involved, nor any Amish Youngie.
Once Deputy Rogers reached his car, I closed the door and returned to the kitchen. I wanted to think the best of Tommy, but it was proving hard to do. He was staring at his cup of coffee as I asked, “What’s the bad blood between you and the deputy?”
He shook his head. “It’s a long, tedious story. I don’t want to bore you.”
“I’d really like to hear it.”
Tommy exhaled. “Kenny and I had some bad years during our late teens. Partying. Petty vandalism.” Tommy wrapped his hands around his cup. “Deputy Rogers had every right to be after us, but he was relentless. He pulled me over thirty-four times and only once gave me a speeding ticket—for going four miles over the speed limit.” He shook his head. “To be honest, he’s part of the reason I left Nappanee. But then Rogers turned all of his attention on Kenny, who followed me a few months later.” He met my gaze. “Don’t get me wrong. We were horrible. I knew it then, and I can see it even more clearly now. But I’ve never known anyone to hold a grudge like Deputy Rogers.”
My eyes locked with Tommy’s.
“Sorry to drag you into this,” he said.
I suppressed a shudder. “Hopefully, it will all be resolved soon.” I didn’t tell him that Deputy Rogers thought he and Kenny were running drugs. Instead I said, “So, you’re headed back to Nevada?”
He nodded.
“You had that planned all along?”
He nodded again.
“Your mother knows about it?”
He frowned. “I haven’t had a chance to tell her yet. I mean, she knew I wasn’t back home for good, just for a short time.”
“What about Mason?”
“I’m taking him with me. His mother wants him back.”
THE NEXT DAY, just after noon, Mammi and I picked up Wanda at Ervin’s farm. It was about five miles from Mammi’s, with a huge white barn, an old farmhouse, and a large dairy herd.
Wanda was definitely bigger than Mammi or me, but there were three seat belts, and we all fit in the cab of the pickup, although it was pretty cozy.
“Where’s Mason today?” I asked.
“Playing with Ervin’s younger kids,” Wanda answered. She didn’t offer anything more, and I didn’t ask about him or Tommy. I was thankful Mammi wasn’t a gossiper and didn’t ask any questions either. I didn’t want to get any more involved with the drama than I already was.
A few snowflakes fell, but the roads were clear. When we reached the quilting shop, there were already several other women at work. Mammi introduced me around again. Phyllis and Lois were there and both greeted Wanda. The bishop’s wife, Catherine Deiner, was there too.
I was surprised they didn’t ask if anyone had heard anything about Miriam right away, but perhaps they didn’t want to bring up Tommy in front of Wanda. Or perhaps not in front of the bishop’s wife.
“I have a casserole in the fridge for you to take to Arleta,” Jane said to me. “If that will still work.”
“Yes, of course,” I answered. “Mammi and I can drop it off when we leave.”
“Denki.” She smiled, her blue eyes twinkling. “And I also have a quilt for the baby.” I was sure that would mean a lot to Arleta.
Lois asked Catherine about her new twin grandchildren. “They’re doing well,” she answered. “Nearly sleeping through the night already. They’re number fourteen and fifteen for us.”
Catherine appeared to be in her early fifties, definitely not more than fifty-five. It amazed me how young Amish grandmothers could be and how quickly they could amass dozens of grandchildren.
“And how is Sophie doing?” Phyllis asked.
Catherine pursed her lips together. “Just fine.”
“Still in Elkhart?”
Catherine nodded. “She’s working at a grocery store there.”
Lois looked up from her quilting. “You must miss her.”
“Oh, well . . .”
There was a long pause. I couldn’t help but wonder what Sophie’s story was, but obviously Catherine didn’t want to talk about her. Every family had its problems.
There were two Englisch women among the quilters, an older woman named Betty and her middle-aged daughter, Jenna. The Amish women spoke a mix of Pennsylvania Dutch and English. There were a few times when I lost track of the Pennsylvania Dutch conversations, but mostly I kept up.
It was Betty who brought up the missing Amish girl. “I heard from a friend who has an Amish neighbor that she’s Arleta’s daughter.”
Lois confirmed that she was.
“We also heard she’s eighteen, so the police can’t do anything,” Jenna said. “Is that true?”
“She’s eighteen,” Phyllis said. “If she left on her own, they can’t do anything. But from what I’ve heard, they’re investigating.” Mammi, Wanda, and I all kept our heads down.
“Do they have any suspects?” Betty asked.
No one responded.
Finally, Jane said, “I’m thinking of a story, one I’ve been saving for just the right time—and person.”
“I think a story is a great idea,” Wanda said.
Jane looked directly at me. “Savannah, you’ll especially appreciate this one.”
I left the needle in the quilt as I looked up, touched that she was thinking of me. “Why is that?”
“It’s about a woman named Emma Fischer. She was a widow when she first came to the area in 1842, and she worked as a midwife.”
Jane added, “Plus, she’s an ancestor you and I share.”
I tilted my head and looked from Mammi to Jane. “I didn’t know I’m related to you.”
Mammi smiled. “Jane and I are fourth cousins. Emma was my great-great-grandmother. So she would be yours too, with four greats.”
“And three greats for me,” Jane said. “Of course, there are a lot of us around these parts who are her descendants, that’s for sure.”
“I know there are some Fischers around,” I said. “But it doesn’t seem like there are that many.” Not like the Millers, for example.
“Well, you’ll have to hear the story to find out, although I won’t be able to tell all of it today.” Jane pursed her lips and then sighed. “Honestly, this is a hard story to tell, and I’ve avoided it because of a particularly tragic thread.” She squared her shoulders. “But I believe it’s time.” She glanced around the circle with an empathetic expression on her face. “Everyone grab a cup of coffee and something to eat. Then I’ll get started.”
Mammi told Jane she’d wait on any customers who came in, and Jane thanked her. The women all gathered around the refreshment table and filled their plates with the same healthy fare Jane had served on Monday. I wasn’t sure how she made any money.
Once everyone sat back down, pushing their chairs back a little so they didn’t drop any crumbs onto the quilt, Jane placed her hands together, as if in prayer. “Now, mind you, this story doesn’t start in this area. No, it started all the way back in Somerset County, Pennsylvania. I won’t tell you Emma’s entire story, but I will tell you that she was born in 1818, the second child and only girl in her Amish family . . .”