Marta Perry - Danger In Amish Country

The chief nodded, rising, and gestured for the young patrolman he’d brought with him to take pictures of the marks. Then he eased Sara and Caleb around the building.

Once they were seated on the steps of the porch, O’Brian pulled out a small notebook. “Now, Sara, I know this is upsetting. But did you get any glimpse of the man you say followed you last night?”

She shook her head. Did the way he phrased the question mean he didn’t believe her?

“Have you seen anybody hanging around?”

“There was an Englischer in the schoolhouse on Saturday, when the auction was going on.” Caleb answered again, maybe to save her embarrassment. “Sara found him. She told him to leave, but he was...” Caleb glanced at her. “He refused to leave.”

The chief cast a cautious look at Sara. “Insulted you, did he?”

She nodded, hoping she wouldn’t have to repeat the things the man had said.

“So how did you get rid of him?”

“I came in,” Caleb said.

“I see.” The chief’s glance went from Caleb’s stoic face to hers, which she felt quite sure was red. “So both of you got a look at him. Can you describe him?”

“I’d guess him to be early twenties,” Caleb said. “He had dark hair, a thin face, a couple of those tattoos on his arms.”

“He was wearing a black T-shirt,” she said. “Jeans and b-boots.” She looked quickly at Chief O’Brian. “He did have boots on.”

The chief was frowning. “In that case, I think I know who it is. Kid by the name of Sammy Moore, it sounds like.” He paused a moment. “He was a buddy of Jase Kovatch’s.”

Sara realized she was shaken but not really surprised. “They wore the same sort of clothes, ain’t so?”

Caleb nodded. “What are you going to do?” He shot the question at O’Brian. “If Sara or the kinner are in danger from this man, we need to know.”

O’Brian looked up at that. “Why the kids? Seems to me by the sound of things it’s Sara he’s interested in.”

Sara held her breath. Please, Caleb. Tell him about Rachel.

Caleb’s face was so tight it seemed the skin was stretched over the bones. “My child, Rachel, has been having nightmares about Der Alte—the cliff face. It started on Thursday night.”

Chief O’Brian’s face lost its usual smile. “According to the medical examiner, Kovatch died sometime Thursday afternoon.”

“So.” A white line formed around Caleb’s lips. “My little Rachel might have seen something that day.”

“What does she say about it?” O’Brian shifted his weight, looking uneasy, as if this turn of events upset him, as well.

“Not much,” Caleb admitted. “All I’ve been able to get out of her is that she’s afraid of Der Alte.”

“And this started before you found the body.” O’Brian sighed. “I don’t like doing it, but it sounds as if I’d better talk to her.”

“No,” Caleb said instantly, glaring at the chief.

“She probably wouldn’t open up to you,” Sara said, hoping to disarm the sudden antagonism between the men. “Rachel hasn’t been here long enough to get to know you, and her Englisch isn’t very strong yet.”

The chief looked exasperated. “What do you suggest? If the child saw something, I have to know what.”

“I think Rachel might speak to Teacher Sara,” Caleb said, and she could hear the reluctance in his voice.

“But I’ve already tried to get her to tell me what was wrong,” she protested. “I failed.”

“Ya, but that was in the schoolroom with others around.” Caleb focused entirely on her, as if this were between the two of them. “I’ve been thinking on it. If you came to the house for supper, maybe played with her a little, even helped her get ready for bed...” Pain clouded his eyes that he had to ask for help with his child, and Sara’s heart hurt for him. “That’s when she always used to talk to me.”

Chief O’Brian cleared his throat. “I’d be agreeable to that,” he said. “Teacher Sara’s as reliable as anyone I know.”

They were both looking at her, but they couldn’t know her thoughts. She’d gone to her scholars’ homes for supper plenty of times, but never to a home with a single father. Never with a man she found herself so attracted to as Caleb.

But there was no choice.

She nodded. “All right. Ya, I will do it.”

SIX

Caleb sat on the top step outside Rachel’s bedroom that evening, listening to the sounds coming from within. So far all had gone as they’d planned. Sara had arrived in time for supper, bringing with her an apple-crumb pie.

It had been the liveliest meal they’d had around the kitchen table since he and Rachel had come to Onkel Josiah’s farm. Josiah had been on his best behavior, joking with Sara and even teasing a smile from Rachel.

Afterward, Sara had insisted she and Rachel would help with the washing up. Onkel Josiah retired to his rocking chair in the living room, and Sara kept the chatter going while they washed and dried.

Now Sara was putting Rachel to bed, something Rachel had greeted with enthusiasm. He was the one who’d suggested this, so it was ferhoodled to feel left out and maybe even a little resentful of all the giggles coming from the room. But it had been a long time since he’d been able to make his daughter laugh.

By moving slightly, he could peer through the crack in the door and see them. Rachel was tucked in her bed, with Sara leaning against the headboard, arm around his daughter. She was reading a fanciful story about a piglet, and they both giggled over the pictures.

The story came to its happy ending, with the piglet home in its pen. His hands clenched on his knees. Now Sara would move toward the purpose of her visit.

“I like made-up stories about animals, don’t you?” Sara smoothed Rachel’s hair back with a gentle hand.

“Me, too.” Rachel looked confidingly up at her. “Peter Rabbit especially. Daed reads it to me.”

He’d read it so many times Rachel had it memorized, but she still wanted to hear it.

“True stories are fun, too,” Sara said. “My daadi tells stories about when he was a boy and all the mischief he got into. You know the difference between a made-up story and a true one, don’t you?”

Rachel wore a tiny frown, but she nodded.

“Like the story of Der Alte,” Sara said, her tone casual. “The kinner made that up, but he’s not real. It’s just that the rocks look like a face, that’s all.”

He could see Rachel stiffen at the mention, and it took all his strength to keep from rushing in and snatching her up in his arms.

“But he is real, Teacher Sara.” Rachel’s voice trembled. “I saw the Old Man make the other man fall.”

The words reverberated in Caleb’s mind. It was what he’d suspected all along, but it was still a blow. He should have protected his little girl, but how?

Sara held Rachel snugly against her body. “Do you mean the rocks made him fall?” Her voice expressed none of the tension she must feel.

Rachel shook her head.

“Then what?” Sara stroked her hair again. “You can tell me.”

For an instant he thought Rachel would clam up. Then she took a firm hold of Sara’s apron. “The Old Man came to life,” she whispered. “He pointed something at the other man, and the man fell over the edge.” The words came out in a rush, and she buried her face in Sara’s sleeve.

“Did the Old Man push the other man over the edge?”

Rachel shook her head, and relief took his breath away. At least she hadn’t seen a murder. This was bad enough.

“What did the Old Man look like?” Sara asked.

Rachel seemed puzzled. “I don’t know. Just like the Old Man.”

“I’ll tell you something I know for certain sure,” Sara said. “I know it was just another person up there, not Der Alte. Maybe the two of them were friends, taking a walk. Or maybe they were arguing, and the poor man just tripped and fell. But it doesn’t have anything to do with the face in the rocks.”