Plain Killing (23 page)

“I never meant for this to happen,” he told her. “I meant to help them.”

“Help them. Right.” Lying on the ground, still tied up, she looked up at him. “Did you get money, too? For selling the girls?” She made no attempt to keep the anger and bitterness from
her
voice. If she was going to die, if he was going to kill her, she thought she at least had the right to know what had happened.

“What kind of a man do you think I am?” he shouted at her. “I didn’t know! I only thought I was helping them get out of Stone Mill.” He looked away and then back at her. “I trusted Ed. I didn’t know until Beth Glick came back and she told me what he had done. What those people had made her do.”

As she spoke, she tried to look around. Tried to figure out where they were. “I still don’t understand. But I want to. Tell me what happened. Why did you kill Beth?”

“She came to me,” he said in a far-off voice. “She told me what happened to her. She was going to tell her bishop. Everyone. I couldn’t let her tell them. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, but I couldn’t—No one would have understood. She didn’t suffer,” he added in a small voice.

“She didn’t suffer when you strangled her?” Rachel demanded.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, barely sounding like himself now.

She exhaled, took a moment to steady her breathing and then looked up at him. “Could you untie me, Joab? At least my hands? My wrists hurt.”

“I can’t do that, Rachel.” He grabbed something from his pocket.

A knife! He had a big knife!

“I know you. You will try to stop me. To stop what must be done.” He started to lean over her as if to grab her, and she jerked back, as much as she could, lying on her side with her ankles and wrists tied.

“Wait! Wait! You said you didn’t know Ed was selling the girls. That makes you innocent. You don’t have to do this. You can’t. My parents and I talked about you tonight. They’ll know to send the police to you if I go missing.”

He didn’t seem to hear her. “Innocent of selling the girls,” he said without emotion. “But not innocent of Beth Glick’s death. I panicked when she told me she was going to her bishop. I killed her. I strangled her, and then I threw her into the quarry so no one would know the terrible thing I had been a part of.” He was quiet for a moment. “But
I
knew.” He pointed heavenward, his voice trembling now. “God knows!”

Then he leaned over and, with one quick movement, grabbed her foot and cut the rope at her feet. “Walk down the mountain,” he said.

She looked up at him. “What?” She separated her feet and started to try to stand. She was weak and shaky. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s better this way.” He walked back around the side of the Jeep to the driver’s side. “Follow the dirt road, Rachel Mast. You know the way.”

Rachel somehow managed to get to her feet. Behind her, she was almost sure she heard the sound of another vehicle approaching from the road. “Joab!”

He got into the driver’s seat and put on the seat belt.

Rachel just stood there, staring at him. He started the engine. He did not turn on the headlights.

What was he doing? Was he going to just leave her here, unharmed? With her knowing what she knew? Was he going to run? How far did he think he would get, an Amish man driving a red Jeep?

Rachel glanced around, knowing she was in a familiar place. Sensing it. She looked up at the sky and around her again. Something was so eerily familiar . . . the reflection of the moonlight . . . And then she knew. They were at the rock quarry. She was standing in the clearing where she and the other girls had had a picnic only a month before. Ahead of the Jeep, only fifteen or twenty feet into the darkness, was the water-filled quarry.

Joab hit the gas, and for an instant, the tires spun.

Rachel screamed as it came to her what he was doing. “Joab!”

The tires caught in the grass, and the Jeep leaped forward. She took a step toward it. The tires flattened weeds and little saplings as the Jeep shot away.

She screamed again, though why, she didn’t know. There was no one there to hear her. She was vaguely aware of headlights coming up behind her. A car. The light illuminated the back of her Jeep, and suddenly the clearing was filled with flashing red and blue emergency lights. It was Evan.

But he was too late.

The Jeep dropped into the water with a huge splash.

Evan threw the police cruiser into park, skidding sideways.

Rachel just stood there as the Jeep, partially illuminated by Evan’s headlights, disappeared from sight as the water bubbled up and over it. Evan got out of the car and ran toward her. She noticed that he was wearing a T-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops.

“Are you all right?” He grabbed her by her shoulders, pulling her closer to him so he could see her face. “You’re bleeding.”

She looked up at him. She was shaking all over. “My hands are tied, but I’m all right.”

He let go of her and ran toward the edge of the quarry. She ran after him.

“Evan!”

There were still sounds of air bubbling up, but not like when the Jeep first hit the water.

She saw him lift his arms over his head as if to dive in.

“Evan, don’t! It’s sinking too fast!” she hollered, coming to a stop close to the edge of the quarry. “The Jeep’s too heavy. The water’s too deep. He’s gone.”

He slowly lowered his arms. He knew she was right. He hesitated and then turned to her. “You’re all right?”

Somehow she managed to smile, even though tears were running down her cheeks. “You came for me.”

He threw his arms around her, his voice ragged. “Of course I came for you, Rachel.” He pulled her against him. “You know I always will.”

The following evening, Rachel sank into a chaise lounge under the spreading beech tree behind Stone Mill House. She had become the town’s main attraction now that rescue divers had recovered poor Joab’s drowned remains from the bottom of the quarry. For the last three hours, neighbors, friends, and relatives had been stopping by to express their concern for Rachel and offer thanks for her part in finding Beth Glick’s killer. Several families were there now, standing around in the yard and on the lawn, sharing in the mountains of ham, fried chicken, salads, pies, and cakes that everyone was bringing. Among her people, Amish and Englisher, food was love.

Rachel was grateful for the outpouring of support, but a part of her just wanted to hide alone in her room. She hadn’t had a chance to really process what had happened. She’d been at the hospital until morning, getting stitches and an MRI, due to her concussion. Then she’d gone to the police troop to make her statement. Her brain felt as though she’d been put in a sack and dropped off the barn roof. Fortunately, her headache had retreated to a dull buzz and the pain where she had been stitched up over her left eye was only a minor annoyance.

“More visitors,” her mother said to Mary Aaron, leaning in front of Rachel to do so. “
Ach,
is that Bishop Abner’s buggy? It is. There’s Naamah, and who is that with her?” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “It’s Joab’s wife, Lottie, and his oldest son getting out of the back. Lord bless them. Wouldn’t you think they’d have a heavy enough burden of sorrow to bear? That’s true grace to come see our Rachel today.”

According to Mary Aaron, who’d spent the day at Stone Mill House fending off curious phone calls from the press and friends and caring for the B&B guests, Rachel’s
mam
had arrived at noon, before Rachel had returned from the police station. Her
mam
had immediately taken charge of the kitchen, putting even formidable Ada in her place in preparation for her daughter’s homecoming.

Rachel was beginning to feel a little overwhelmed and wished that Evan were there. He had remained at her side all night at the hospital, then at the troop, his solid presence steady and reassuring. But when he’d brought her home to Stone Mill House, he’d had to leave her. He had needed a shower and a change of clothes and then had to get back to work. He’d promised he would be back as soon as he could.

Rachel had been so certain that once Beth’s killer was brought to justice, all her questions would be answered and the sadness that had haunted her since her discovery of the dead girl would be lessened. But somehow, that emotion had been absorbed and magnified by discovering that one of their own had been the culprit. There was no comfort for Rachel in Joab’s death. And while other Amish families in Stone Mill could sleep easier at night, Lottie Rust and her children had to live with the shame and loss of a beloved husband and father.

As shocked as Rachel had been when she’d thought that Joab had meant for her to die in the quarry, seeing him take his own life had stunned her. Suicide wasn’t unknown among the Amish. The church community concluded that Joab had lost all hope of salvation and that was why he had done what he did. Sadly, they believed that Joab was truly lost, and because he didn’t live long enough to publicly repent and ask forgiveness, there could be no hope of redemption. Rachel didn’t know how she felt about any of that, but the one thing she did know was that Joab wasn’t an evil man in his heart, just one whose wrong decisions had brought tragedy to an innocent girl and his own destruction.

“Mary Aaron?” Rachel’s mother’s voice sounded anxious. “Is she all right?”

“Rae-Rae?” Mary Aaron’s hand brushed Rachel’s arm. “Did you hear me?”

“Sorry.” Rachel shook off the mental cobwebs. “I was just . . . thinking.” She looked up to see the latest arrivals crossing the lawn toward her. She made an effort to rise, but her mother restrained her with a gentle gesture.

“Tell my daughter that there’s no need for her to get up,” her
mam
said.

Mary Aaron barely suppressed a smile as their glances connected. “Your mother says—”

“I heard her.” Rachel caught her mother’s hand and held it fast, taking comfort from the familiar warmth and strength. “I hear her,” she added. And for just an instant, her mother looked full into her face and Rachel read the love and worry in her eyes.

I love you,
Rachel mouthed.

Her mother’s lips moved soundlessly, forming in Deitsch,
And I you, child.
Then, she got to her feet to greet the bishop and the others. “So good of you to come.” She embraced first Naamah and then Joab’s wife, graciously accepting the casserole and pound cake that the women had brought.

Rachel’s sisters materialized just in time to receive the additions to the bounty of food.

“I’m so sorry,” Joab’s wife murmured, approaching Rachel. Her eyes were red and swollen, her face pasty white with loss. “All night and all day, after . . . after we learned of what . . . what had happened, we kept you in our prayers.”

“And your family in mine,” Rachel replied, getting up to return the embraces.

Joab’s son didn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. His presence was enough to assure Rachel that the Rusts didn’t hate her. They were struggling to accept the unacceptable, and in true Amish way, their sorrow was the sorrow of the whole community.

“We are holding a special prayer service on Sunday at your Uncle Aaron’s home,” Bishop Abner said. “We hope that you’ll be well enough to come. And your English friend Evan is welcome.”

“I’ll be there,” Rachel promised. She didn’t intend to let a few stitches and a bump on her head turn her into an invalid. “And please let me know when the funeral is being held for Joab.”

Joab’s wife nodded, and Naamah slipped an arm around her shoulders. The women murmured a few words of farewell, the son nodded, and Bishop Abner folded his arms and smiled down at Rachel. “The Lord works in mysterious ways,” he said. “His wonders to perform.”

Rachel thanked him for coming and for bringing the Rusts. The community would close around them, holding them up, helping and supporting, and life would go on in the valley. Their faith was strong, and her people were resilient, possessing a strength born of centuries of unity and caring.

As Bishop Abner and the others drifted away, Rachel’s cell vibrated in her pocket. She had found it on the ground at the quarry and kept it with her all night long. Evan had been passing by her house when she’d texted him from the back of the Jeep. He’d gone inside and grabbed her laptop to use to pinpoint her last location with the
Find My Phone
app he’d installed months earlier. By the time her battery died, he’d already figured out where Joab was taking her. It was Mary Aaron who had thought to charge it when Rachel returned home. As she pulled it out of her jeans’ pocket, her mother waved her back to her chair.

“Tell her to rest,” her
mam
ordered Mary Aaron. “I’ll get her some lemonade from the kitchen.”

“I’ll come with you.” Mary Aaron glanced back at Rachel and flashed a conspiratorial smile. “So Rae-Rae can take her message in private.”

How’s the head?
It was from Evan.

Rachel sank down and leaned back against the cushion.
Better,
she texted. She kicked off her shoes and curled her feet up under her.
Will you be done soon?

Her phone rang a few moments later. She answered quickly, feeling self-conscious, surrounded by Amish family and friends. It was Evan calling. “Hey,” she said softly into the phone.

“I’m probably going to be a while,” he said. “Sergeant Haley wants to sit down and put all of the pieces together. I’ll be working with him for the next few days.”

She smiled, feeling suddenly exhausted but so glad to be alive. “That’s good news, right?”

“Yeah. I guess.”

They were both quiet for a moment; then she said, “Thanks for staying with me last night. And today. I don’t know if I could have gotten through it all without you.”

“That’s not true, but you’re welcome. What are friends for?”

Rachel knew this was where she was supposed to respond that they were more than friends, but she didn’t say anything because she didn’t know what to say. She still didn’t know how she felt.

The silence that followed became painfully awkward.

“I better go,” he said, finally. “The sergeant’s waiting for me.”

“Will you come by later?” she asked.

“You want me to?”

Her response was genuine. “I do.”

“I’ll be by later, then. In the meantime, keep that cell phone battery charged.”

They were both laughing when they hung up.