After advising Timothy to find Becky a lawyer, the sheriff left us to return to the accident scene. So many unanswered questions. Did the bishop die immediately? Did his family know? Did Becky’s parents know? Would they send an Amish girl to prison? The line of accusatory Amish men remained on the side of the road, their dour expressions and scowls focused on us.
My hand brushed against Timothy, making me hyper-aware of his presence. I sidestepped, placing a foot of black pavement between us.
An EMT approached Becky, but looked at Timothy. “Your sister’s not in any danger, but we need to take her to the hospital to set that arm.”
Becky winced.
A van pulled up behind Timothy’s truck, and Isaac Glick jumped out of the passenger seat. I glanced at Timothy. Isaac wove through the police to the line of Amish men.
Timothy cracked the knuckles in his left hand, the same hand that had touched mine. “I need to talk to Isaac.”
“That’s probably not the best idea right now. He’s not going to want to see anyone from your family.” I kept my voice a whisper, hoping Becky didn’t overhear. I needn’t have bothered. Becky’s face paled when she spotted Isaac.
Despite the heavy shade from an enormous oak tree, Timothy squinted, holding back tears. “He’s my friend.”
My heart sank. “I know.”
Isaac reached the line of Amish men, and they huddled around him like a black wool blanket. He stumbled out of their protective circle, but a man placed his hand on Isaac’s shoulder and spoke. He jerked away from the man and shook his head, his gaze darting around. Then the man at Isaac’s side pointed at Becky.
My stomach clenched. I forced my gaze to the EMT. “Shouldn’t you be going? She needs to get to the hospital.”
He looked up from his clipboard. “Just as soon as I finish my paperwork. I’m almost done.”
I stole a glance over my shoulder to find Isaac marching toward us. I turned back to the EMT. “Can’t you do that when you get to the hospital?”
Too late.
“Becky?” Isaac’s voice shook.
Tears ran down her cheeks.
Isaac’s jaw twitched. “Look what you did. Is this what you wanted?”
Becky opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.
I tilted my head and stared at the EMT.
He nodded. “Come on, Miss Troyer. It’s time to go.” He reached for Becky, and she allowed him to help her climb into the ambulance’s bay.
“Run away!” Isaac cried. “It’s what you’re good at.” He added something else in Pennsylvania Dutch.
The paramedic closed the ambulance’s bay doors. Through the square rear window, Becky’s red-rimmed eyes stared at Timothy and me. She cradled her arm, and tears fell onto her cheeks. I prayed I was wrong, but I knew this nightmare could only get worse. Timothy squeezed my hand. The driver turned on his flashing lights and whooped the siren as he drove up the hill in the direction of Mount Vernon, the largest town in Knox County and the only one with a hospital.
Isaac’s chest heaved.
Timothy reached out to touch his friend, but Isaac jerked away.
“It was an accident,” I said.
Timothy scowled, and Isaac gaped at me as if he’d never seen me before. I couldn’t blame him for not remembering me. “Who are you?”
“Chloe. I met you at Harshberger last week.” My throat constricted under his intense glare.
“I remember. You are the computer person, and you’re the reason she left the district.”
“No, no,” I stammered. “That’s not it at all.”
He frowned, his eyes boring into me. “This is what leaving the Amish has done. My father is dead. This never would have happened if Becky had known her place. Never.”
The older Amish man Isaac had been talking to earlier strode up to us, his presence formidable. Thin and more than six feet tall, he had a long dark beard and eyes narrowed into slits. He placed his hand on Isaac’s shoulder again. “Son, you are angry now, but you must forgive.”
Good advice, although was he able to follow it himself?
Isaac’s eyes welled with tears. “What about my mother? My brothers and sisters? What will they do without my father?”
“Son.” The man’s voice grew stern. “You are the eldest. You must be strong for them. You are the man of the house now.”
Isaac bowed his head and staggered back to the waiting van. The driver backed it up until it had a clear place to turn around. And then he was gone.
“Timothy,” the Honest Abe doppelganger said, “you should think of your family now too.”
Timothy’s jaw twitched.
The man brushed the bottom of his beard with the back of his hand. “You can’t always expect someone else to carry your burden.”
What did that mean? Carry your burden?
“Deacon.” Timothy’s tone sounded sharper than I’d ever heard it. He added something in Pennsylvania Dutch.
The deacon’s beard twitched, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a tiny smile. “The district must find a new bishop. A position your father would have wanted. I know some were hoping to put him up for the lot of preacher. Many will change their minds.”
“My father is not ambitious.”
“That’s where you differ?”
Timothy clenched his jaw and again spoke in Pennsylvania Dutch. The deacon glanced at me but gave me no acknowledgment.
The sheriff stood off to the side, fiddling with a cell phone. This could be my only opportunity to ask him my unanswered questions, so I left Timothy speaking to the deacon. He didn’t appear to notice that I had gone.
As I approached the sheriff, a female officer jogged up to his side. “Got here as soon as I could, sheriff. Deputy Gertz briefed me.” Petite with short curly brown hair, she wore a dark blue uniform, which stood out against the sea of tan uniforms at the scene. Aviator sunglasses gave her a tough cop image despite her small frame.
He poked at his phone. “Stupid gadget.”
“Sheriff.”
“Oh, Greta. Nice of you to finally make it.”
She adjusted the sunglasses on her nose. “I was on another case.”
“Good to know. I’ve got another one for you.”
Her eyes sparkled. “This is my case?”
“Yup. If you want it.”
“I want it.”
He tucked the cell phone into the breast pocket of his uniform. “You can start by questioning Miss Humphrey.” He pointed a thumb at me. “I have another call-out.” He ambled away.
She peered at me and held out her hand. “Miss Humphrey?”
I nodded and shook her hand.
“I’m Appleseed Creek’s Chief of Police, Greta Rose. You can call me Chief Rose. Can I ask you a few questions?”
I glanced back at Timothy and the deacon, still deep in conversation. “Will it take long? Timothy, Becky’s brother, and I need to get to the hospital to see her. Becky was the driver of the car.”
“I know who the driver was, and I know Timothy is her brother too. My questions will only take a few minutes. Let’s walk over here.” With a manicured nail, she pointed at a huge briar bush on the side of the road, far from where the Amish men stood.
“You are Chloe Humphrey, correct?”
“Yes.”
She pulled a printout from her pocket and scanned it. “The vehicle in the accident is registered to you.”
I nodded.
“And the car is insured.”
“Yes, of course.”
“I’m going to need to see proof of that.”
I bristled. “Is my insurance responsible for the accident?”
Her eyebrows peeked out over those huge glasses. “Someone will have to pay for the damage and injuries.”
My throat tightened.
“Amish don’t take out insurance policies on their buggies, and Miss Troyer was an uninsured motorist. Since it was your vehicle involved . . .”
My chest constricted. “I’m not responsible for the accident.”
“It’s your vehicle. I’d advise you to contact your insurance company.”
“I wasn’t driving the car,” I insisted. “Becky was.”
“Are you saying she stole your car?” She removed her sunglasses, revealing peridot-colored eyes highlighted by black eye liner and heavy mascara. She trained her gaze on me like a green laser beam.
I jerked back. “No . . . she borrowed it.”
Chief Rose ran her hand through her brown curls, her tone all business. “An unlicensed driver doesn’t borrow a car. Did you allow her to take it?”
“No! I had no idea. I wouldn’t let her drive my car without a license.”
She folded the printout and stuck it back in the pocket of her navy uniform. “If she drove it without your permission, that’s stealing. There may be an additional charge against Becky.”
“If I say she stole the car, which I don’t.”
Chief Rose shrugged as if it made no difference to her. “I need to see that insurance card now.”
“It’s in my purse inside Timothy’s truck.”
“I’ll wait for you to get it.”
I nodded.
“I’d like to see your registration too,” she called out.
My back stiffened as I wove through the crowd to Timothy’s truck. Many of the Amish men had left. Three stood around the bishop’s horse, trying to convince the frightened animal to step into the back of a trailer. At first I thought the horse unharmed, but now that I had a clear view of the animal, I saw a long gash on her left shoulder. I knew nothing about caring for farm animals, but I prayed the animal would make it. One tragic loss was more than enough.
“Miss Humphrey! The insurance card, please.”
I glanced back at Chief Rose, who stood in the middle of the road, tapping her foot.
The truck was unlocked, and my purse lay on the passenger side. I grabbed it.
Chief Rose took the registration and insurance card from my hand. “I’ll give them back to you in a minute, then you will be free to go. Do you plan to go to the hospital to see your friend?”
“Yes.”
She ambled to her cruiser parked on the side of the road. Leaving the cruiser door open, Chief Rose logged onto the computer between the driver and passenger seats. Fear trickled through me. How would I pay for the accident if I was held financially responsible? Would Bishop Glick’s family sue me? Do the Amish sue? My stomach roiled. Would I have to ask my father and Sabrina for help? They had the money, although Sabrina would deny it. My stepmother would let me go to jail first.
Becky, the nineteen-year-old would-be artist, was in much more trouble than I. Nearby, Timothy and the deacon continued to argue in their own language. What did the deacon mean about Timothy’s father being a preacher?
Chief Rose returned and handed me my insurance card and registration. “You know, Miss Humphrey, you might want to rethink the company you keep.”
“What does that mean?”
She cocked her head at Timothy before slipping her sunglasses back on. “Your insurance company will know what to do about the accident. Sadly, this is not the first time we’ve had a buggy and auto collision in Appleseed Creek—and it won’t be the last.”
Timothy jogged toward them. “Chloe, are you ready to go to the hospital now?” It was the first time I’d heard Timothy say my name, and despite the tragic circumstances, I liked the sound of it.
“Yes, I’m ready.” I adjusted my purse strap on my shoulder.
“Hello, Timothy,” Chief Rose said. “Staying out of trouble?”
Timothy’s jaw twitched. “Nice to see you, Greta.”
“You can call me Chief Rose.”
“Do you two know each other?” I don’t know why I was surprised. Knox County was so small.
Greta nodded. “We have mutual friends.”
Timothy winced.
My stomach tightened again. What did I walk into when I moved to Appleseed Creek?