Marta Perry - When Secrets Strike

“Sarah! Just the person I was hoping to see.” His round, jovial face lit with a smile. Harvey, she’d always thought, had the perfect personality to sell real estate—outgoing, optimistic and soothing to the stressed nerves of sellers and buyers.

“How are you, Harvey?” She gestured toward the door. “Were you going in?”

“No, no. I don’t have occasion to store much in there, with practically all my work done online these days.” He waited while she locked the door. “I noticed you when I was coming down the stairs, and wanted to have a word.”

“Of course.” She couldn’t help the curiosity in her tone. She and Harvey were fellow tenants, of course, but other than that they had little in common. “How can I help you?”

“I know you’re a neighbor of Aaron King. A friend, too.” He shook his head, his normally cheerful face sobering. “I suppose he told you about this business of the Gibson farm.”

She nodded, not sure what, if anything, she should say. But Harvey didn’t seem to expect a comment.

“It’s very distressing.” He fell into step with her as she headed toward the shop. “I didn’t know what to say to Aaron when he told me about the understanding he had with Matthew Gibson. I really knew nothing at all about it. If only Gibson had told me...” He let the words trail off, shrugging.

“It is a shame. And very unlike Matthew, to go back on his word to anyone.” The man she remembered had always been the soul of honor—the kind of neighbor anyone would want.

“True, so true.” Harvey nodded. “But on the other hand, his health hasn’t been all that good lately, according to the conversation we had about the property. In fact, that’s why he entrusted the sale to me, not even making the trip back to clear the house. Depend on it, he forgot all about his conversation with Aaron.”

“I’m sure that’s what happened,” Sarah agreed politely. If Harvey had been taken by surprise by Aaron’s visit, it was natural enough that he wouldn’t have thought everything through. The situation had clearly been bothering him. “The King family certainly doesn’t blame you for what happened.”

“Are you sure?” His brows drew down, and he looked as woeful as someone with his round, cheerful face could. “I feel terrible about it, but there’s simply nothing I can do. I wouldn’t want to be on bad terms with anyone over it, especially not with any of my Amish neighbors.”

Enlightenment dawned, and Sarah smiled. Harvey’s real estate agency did a great deal of business in the area, and the Amish were the primary buyers and sellers of farmland. Naturally he wouldn’t want to get a bad reputation with them.

“I don’t think you need to worry about it.” She stopped at the door of her shop. “I’m sure it’s just as you say, and—”

Allison opened the door behind her. “Sarah, you’d better come in. The state police fire marshal is here to see you.”

Harvey looked startled, as well he might, and Sarah’s stomach seemed to do a somersault. She took a steadying breath. Mac must not have come with the man, or Allison would have said. Apparently Sarah would have to deal with the investigator on her own.

CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER FIFTEEN CHAPTER SIXTEEN CHAPTER SEVENTEEN CHAPTER EIGHTEEN CHAPTER NINETEEN CHAPTER TWENTY CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE EPILOGUE Extract Copyright

“SARAH, THIS IS Norman Fielding, the investigator Mac sent over to talk to you.” Allison gave her a reassuring look as she made the introduction. “I’ll just get back to work while you talk.”

The fire marshal turned out to be a diminutive man, barely her height, with the kind of wiry build that suggested he’d go on forever. Sarah guessed him to be about her father’s age, with a thin, noncommittal face and a way of looking suspiciously over the top of his wire-rimmed glasses as he took down her name and address.

“Now, then, Ms....um, Miss Bitler, I understand you were first on the scene at the initial fire.” In his clipped tones the fact sounded almost like an accusation.

“Yes, that’s right. I saw the smoke when I was driving into town that morning.” As often as she’d been over it, she’d begun to feel as if she could tell the story in her sleep.

“That’s what I was told.” He darted a glance around the shop. Allison was at the counter a few feet away, occupied with the quilt files but within easy earshot, and several women browsed through the racks. “Maybe you’d rather we talked in private,” he suggested.

Allison flicked a frowning look in her direction.

“This is fine,” Sarah said, trying to appear more at ease than she felt. “My partner knows all about what happened that day.”

She thought Fielding seemed dissatisfied, but he didn’t raise any objection. Sarah took a couple steps closer to the counter, which forced him to do the same. As Allison had pointed out a short time ago, she had gained a lot of confidence in dealing with the Englisch from running the shop. Still, her stomach seemed to churn at the idea of being questioned by this stranger and having everything she said put down in his report.

“Were you on your usual route to town?” He looked at her over the frame of his glasses. “You were coming here, I suppose?”

“Yes, that’s right. And it’s the way I normally come.”

His eyes narrowed. “I’ve had a look at the area. That back road wouldn’t be the most direct route from your home to the store.”

Allison stirred, as if about to speak, but she didn’t.

“I drive a horse and carriage back and forth. There’s less automobile traffic on the road I take.”

Fielding gave a rather disparaging look at her plain navy dress and apron. “That’s an Amish thing, is it?”

Sarah nodded.

Allison took a step closer, and Sarah frowned at her. Nothing would be gained by challenging the man’s apparent ignorance of Amish customs. That is, assuming it was ignorance and not prejudice.

Fielding had moved on. “Now, about the smoke you saw. Can you describe it?”

Sarah blinked. How did one describe smoke? “It was just smoke. I thought it might be from someone burning trash, but it seemed too thick for that.”

“What color? Brown? Gray? Black?” He snapped the questions at her.

Determined not to let him fluster her, Sarah took her time, trying to picture in her mind the moment when she’d first seen smoke rising above the trees.

“It was dark,” she said finally. “Dark gray or maybe black.”

“What is the significance of the smoke color?” Allison’s curiosity had apparently gotten the better of her.

Fielding eyed her for a moment before deciding to answer. “Wood burns brown or lighter gray. Black signifies the presence of gasoline or some other accelerant.”

“But...” Sarah frowned, visualizing the scene. “There wouldn’t have been any gasoline stored in an unused barn. Anyone would know better than that.”

At least, she’d think so. Gus Hill drove a rattletrap old pickup that looked as if it were held together with binder twine, but surely he wouldn’t do something so foolish as to store gas in the barn.

Fielding made a noise that might have been agreement. “Did you approach the barn once you got there?”

“I checked the cottage first, looking for the caretaker, but it was empty. Then I went to the barn. I had to be sure the caretaker wasn’t inside, you see.”

Unlike Aaron, Fielding didn’t criticize that decision. “How could you see inside? Did you open the door?”

“No, I didn’t have to. The door was standing wide open.”