Plain Killing (8 page)

She recognized a few of the youths, but most were from church districts other than her family’s. Everyone was dressed in his or her best clothing: the girls in blue, green, or lavender dresses, white
kapps,
black stockings and shoes. The boys sported black vests over their white shirts and black pants. Some of the black felt hats boasted brims wider than customary, a few rebelliously narrow. But there wasn’t a single ball cap, cowboy hat, or bareheaded male in sight. Tables laden with snacks, sodas, and sandwich makings attracted knots of young men, while the giggling girls tended to gather at the far end of one of two long tables set up for the singing.

“Mary Aaron!” Timothy waved and hurried toward them. He was a tall, Nordic-looking fellow with long legs, a wide chest, and a cheerful, freckled face. Timothy stood to inherit a substantial dairy farm from an aging grandfather with whom he lived. According to Mary Aaron, he attended church regularly, was obedient and respectful to his elders. He promised to be an excellent candidate for marriage, if and when she decided to allow herself to be courted. What Timothy didn’t appear to be was someone who would associate with members of the outer fringes of Amish youth society, a gang such as the Cut-Ups. Which proved, as Rachel knew, that you couldn’t tell a book by its cover.

“Timothy.” Rachel smiled. He nodded politely, but his attention was all on Mary Aaron. Her brothers had already scattered. Alan was talking animatedly to a red-cheeked girl in a maroon dress and seemed oblivious to his friends’ exhortations to join them at the food table. John Hannah had loped off to join a circle of young men near the barn.

Mary Aaron exchanged a few words with Timothy, and then the two of them strolled toward the coolers of sodas.

Rachel introduced herself to the elder Beilers. The mother, Roberta, she knew from the farmer’s market held on Saturdays in Stone Mill. Both Beilers were pleasant and welcoming, and neither mentioned the obvious, that she was the only non-Amish at the singing.

Rachel had taken special care to dress modestly this evening, but she’d refused Mary Aaron’s offer to borrow one of her dresses. Rachel hadn’t wanted anyone to think she was posing as Amish. She’d stitched up a russet, midcalf A-line skirt, a matching shirtwaist blouse with hidden buttons, and a triangular-shaped scarf of the same material. Her mother had been complaining about the state of her navy-blue denim skirt and shapeless top that she usually wore when visiting the Old Order Amish. Sewing was something she’d learned as a girl from her mother, and even if she did resort to a late-model Singer, Rachel was pleased that she could still turn a seam and sew a pleat with confidence.

“Now they are beginning, I think.” The jolly hostess waved toward the long tables where boys and girls were taking seats on opposite sides. Rachel didn’t join them but found a place on the grass nearby. She’d always loved the singings, but she would have felt awkward sitting between young women seeking beaus and husbands.

Among the Old Order Amish, there was no dating as the English world understood. While marriages were by choice, not by arrangement, it was understood that the sacrament was intended to increase and support family. Family and community unity were more important than individual happiness. What was important was that Amish couples wed in the sight of God and raise children who would honor the faith, so few brides or grooms chose spouses whom their parents or church community found unacceptable. And no one was less acceptable than a person considered morally weak or lacking in faith. Thus, young couples in Stone Mill were strictly chaperoned and bound by tradition to remain pure until their wedding night. It didn’t follow the social mores of wider American society, but it had worked well for the Plain folk for centuries and produced, on the whole, strong families.

One of the older girls stood and announced a fast hymn. There was no accompanying music and no songbooks, but everyone knew the hymns by heart. The song leader suggested three more before yielding her place to a boy with a deep and melodious baritone voice. His first selection was “Michael, Row the Boat Ashore,” and the group joined in enthusiastically, clapping to the beat and swaying back and forth. Rachel had never seen anyone moving to the music at a singing before. She glanced at Roberta Beiler in astonishment, but the older woman merely shrugged, while her husband shook his head and went into the house. Rachel chuckled. Change came slowly to Stone Mill, but apparently, it
did
come. And when the leader’s next song was the spiritual “Wade in the Water,” Rachel couldn’t help but sing along.

After an hour, the first song leader called for a break, and everyone quickly assembled around the food. Mary Aaron motioned to Timothy, and the two of them joined Rachel at the edge of the yard. Her cousin glanced around to see that no one else was within hearing range and then said quietly, “I told him”—she indicated Timothy—“that we were trying to get some information about the girls who left Stone Mill.” She nudged him. “Tell her what you told me.”

Timothy glanced at his feet. Rachel noticed that he smelled of Old Spice. He shuffled his feet. “I don’t know about the girls,” he said. “But a boy, Enosh, who left was one of my pals.”

“Enosh left before Hannah and Beth,” Mary Aaron elaborated. “Do you remember him? He left around the time you moved back, but after, I think.”

Rachel knew the name but didn’t think she had met him.

“He’s living in Harrisburg,” Mary Aaron explained. “He’s got a job as a roofer.”

“So he’s safe?” Rachel asked. “Nothing bad has happened to him?”

Timothy glanced around nervously. “Nothing more than going without a few meals and being homesick.”

“Didn’t Lucy Zug leave around the same time?” Rachel asked Mary Aaron as she tried to recall.

“
Ya,
a little after, I think.”

“You don’t know anything about Lucy?” Rachel asked Timothy.

He shook his head. “Know who she was, is all. Her being older than me.”

Rachel nodded. “Is there a way for you to get in touch with Enosh? I’d like to ask if he knows anything about Beth or the others.”

“I don’t think he’d talk to you,” Timothy said slowly. “He doesn’t want anyone to know where he is. He’s afraid his family will find out and make him come home.”

“It happens,” Mary Aaron said. “Last year, Lemuel Yoder’s
dat
tracked him down near Belleville and talked him into coming back.”

“I don’t want to get Enosh into any trouble,” Rachel assured Timothy. “He’s an adult. I won’t go to his parents,” she promised. She lowered her voice. “This is really important, Timothy. Mary explained to you, didn’t she? Other girls, maybe boys, might be in danger, too.” She let that settle for a minute before she asked, “Do you have Enosh’s address?”

“
Ne.
I did have his phone number, but . . .” Timothy shook his head. “My grandfather found my cell and smashed it on the chopping block. Had minutes left on it, too.”

“Could you give me the number?” Rachel asked the young man. “It would help a lot.”

Timothy looked sheepish. “It was in the phone. I didn’t write it down anywhere.” He shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t remember it.”

“But someone else must have his number, right?” Rachel asked.

“I . . . I don’t know,” Timothy said.

A young man approached, and Timothy took a step back from Rachel and Mary Aaron.

“Come and eat,” the other boy encouraged.

“You know Harvey Beiler,” Timothy said. “His parents own this farm.” He introduced Rachel.

“Glad to have you.” Harvey waved toward the sandwich table. “My mother will be upset if we don’t eat the spread she put out for us. Every bite of it.”

Mary Aaron flashed her a look, and Rachel followed the other three to the refreshments. She helped herself to a plate and a glass of cider, then found an unoccupied bench to sit and watch the others. Groups of boys and girls broke into couples to eat together. A young man sitting next to a cute, plump girl named Vi waved a flashlight. The others laughed.

Rachel understood the joke. The boy would be driving his girlfriend home, and they’d creep into her parents’ house in the dark. With no light but that provided by the batteries, they’d sit in the living room and talk and hold hands until after midnight. It was daring but acceptable behavior, and propriety was maintained by the knowledge that parents and extended family might wander through the downstairs at a moment’s notice.

Someone called for the singing to resume, and the boys and girls noisily assembled on either side of the tables again. A different song leader began with “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” Rachel, noticing Roberta Beiler and another middle-aged woman begin to refill the food trays and snack baskets, went to help them. They seemed pleased, and Rachel spent the next half hour assisting them.

There was more eating and more songs, but according to custom, the singing officially ended at ten o’clock sharp after several slower and more traditional hymns. Almost immediately, a few buggies arrived to pick up younger teenagers, while the older guests gathered for a few moments of friendly exchanges and more food before heading out.

Seeing nothing more that needed doing, Rachel retreated to a seating area near the back door of the farmhouse. She didn’t know if Mary Aaron intended to ride home with her or if she had accepted Timothy’s offer, but she hoped to speak with Timothy again before leaving. He was clearly reluctant to help them, but surely he would realize how important it was that Evan talk to Enosh. When she saw someone coming toward her in the darkness, she thought it might be Timothy, but it was her cousin John Hannah.

“Mary Aaron says she’ll meet you at the Jeep,” John Hannah said. “Alan’s going with Andy Peachey and the Gingrich sisters.” He came to stand close beside her. “You find out anything that might help you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” She wondered how much Mary Aaron had told John Hannah. “Wasn’t there a girl you wanted to take home tonight?”

“She turned me down,” he admitted. “She’s riding with someone else. An older fellow.” He offered Rachel a root beer, which she accepted. “Good singing, though,” John Hannah said. “Mostly fast hymns. Not worship hymns.”

Rachel nodded. She was trying not to feel disappointed that they were leaving without any more information than they came with.

The crowd got thinner. Young men hitched horses and helped girls into the open buggies. Four or five young women climbed onto the wagon Rachel had seen earlier and found seats on the bales of straw. Three boys, obviously unsuccessful in finding dates, drove off together. Rachel and John Hannah finished their sodas and walked back down the lane to the Jeep. Mary Aaron was already there, sitting in the front seat. There was no sign of Timothy.

Rachel got in and started the engine. “Timothy already say good-bye?” she asked Mary Aaron.

“Ya.”
Her cousin shook her head and sighed. “He wasn’t too happy that I wouldn’t let him drive me home.”

Rachel waited as two buggies rolled down the lane past her before carefully pulling out onto the road and turning in the direction of Stone Mill. “I thought you liked him.”

“I do,” Mary Aaron said. “I’m just not ready to get serious yet.”

“He’s a good guy,” John Hannah said.

“I know he is,” Mary Aaron agreed. “But . . .”

Rachel knew that baptism would have to come before a wedding, and she wondered which one Mary Aaron was more reluctant to commit to. “Don’t let anyone rush you,” she advised.

“That’s what
Dat
says.” John Hannah fastened his seat belt in the back. “He and
Mam
walked out for two years before they tied the knot.”

They rode in silence for a few minutes before John Hannah spoke again. “Doesn’t anyone want to know what I found out?”

“About what?” Mary Aaron asked.

“About Hannah and them other girls that left.”

“You found out something?” Rachel asked, pulling the Jeep off the road and braking to a stop.

John Hannah laughed. “
Ya.
Well, maybe. Timothy told me you were asking about Enosh. He felt bad that he didn’t have any way to contact him. I told him he should ask his friends, but I think he was worried about getting somebody in trouble.” He shrugged. “So I did some of my own asking. Talked to one of them Cut-Ups. Found out who Enosh works for. It’s a small Englisher company called J. M. S. Roofing. They’ve got some other ex-Amish kids working for them.”

“Do you have an address or a phone number?” Rachel asked.

“Nope. But Pete said anybody can find them. They’re in the Harrisburg yellow pages.”

Midafternoon the following day, Evan, Rachel, and Timothy turned into a housing development in a small town west of Harrisburg. It had taken a little persuasion to convince Timothy to agree to go with them to find Enosh. Especially when he realized Mary Aaron wouldn’t be going because she had committed to an outing with her mother. But in the end, Timothy genuinely wanted to help the police find out who had murdered Beth, so he agreed to go with them as long as no one would know he had gone and he’d be home by milking time.

A call to J. M. S.’s office by Evan had produced the address of the current job site. Roofing was underway on three spec homes. There were several trucks with the J. M. S. Roofing logo painted on the sides, and a crew at work on each house.

Rachel was at the wheel of her Jeep. “He may be working under the table,” she explained to Evan. “A lot of these runaway Amish kids don’t have the paperwork to prove their ages, and they certainly don’t have social security cards. Obtaining them takes time.”

“I think that might be him on that ladder,” Timothy said, pointing as Rachel parked. “Let me go and talk to him. I’ll see if he’s willing to talk to you.”

Rachel watched Timothy walk down the sidewalk and approach the ladder. He called out to a young man wearing jeans and a hard hat. No shirt. Knowing Amish standards of modesty, Rachel could appreciate how much of a stretch that might be for Enosh. Some Old Order Amish kids went crazy when they left the strict communities. They started drinking alcohol and engaging in risky behavior. Those individuals rarely made it on the outside. The leap from Stone Mill to the English world was a big one, and only the steadiest and more resilient could succeed. For Enosh’s sake, she hoped he was one of the few who would.

The boy came down the ladder, and he and Timothy exchanged greetings. Rachel couldn’t hear what they were saying, even with the window down, but Timothy and Enosh soon drew the attention of an older, bearded man. The man walked over to join them, followed by two of the roofers and one of the truck drivers. Enosh kept glancing in the direction of the Jeep, then at the men, then back at the Jeep again.

Evan put his hand on the door handle. “I think we’d better join them,” he said. “Our boy looks as though he might be getting ready to pull a vanishing act.”

As she and Evan got out of the car, the bearded man broke off from the group and strode toward them. “Jake Sweitzer. I understand you want to talk to Enosh. Is there some problem?” He thrust out a hand to Evan, but the expression in his eyes was wary. He was a big man, stern but not morose, with the look of someone who’d spent a lifetime working outside.

Evan returned the handshake and introduced Rachel and then himself. “Enosh isn’t in any trouble. We’re hoping he can give us some information on a young Amish woman who left her community about the same time he did. You may have seen something on the news. Beth Glick?”

Jake nodded. “The girl who was murdered.
Ya,
I saw that in the paper.” He glanced back toward Enosh and Timothy. Several of the crew stood protectively on either side of them. “Is this an official visit, Officer?”

“No, not at all. We’re tracking down all leads, no matter how small. Frankly, the investigation has hit a stone wall. Beth Glick vanished from her home and community and showed up two years later, dead. If we had any idea what happened to her in the time she was gone, we might have a place to start.”

Jake frowned. “Enosh is a good kid. He works hard, pulls his fair share, and the guys like him. He’s not someone the police would be questioning in a murder.”

“We’re not looking at him on this,” Evan explained. “I was just hoping that because he left the same Amish community, he might know something about how Beth Glick was able to leave. Who might have helped her in Stone Mill and on the outside.”

Jake glanced at the knot of men. “He says he knew Beth, but not anything about her leaving. He doesn’t know where she went or how she left. He left Stone Mill three years ago.”

Evan nodded. “You said Enosh is a good worker. You know how he spends his time when he’s not at work?”

“I’m telling you, Officer, he’s a nice young man. Has a girlfriend, taking GED classes two nights a week. He keeps his nose clean. Always the first in on Saturday nights.”

Rachel met the man’s gaze. “The first in? Meaning . . . he’s staying with you?” She knew it was done. Good souls, often ex-Amish themselves, opened their homes to young people to help them get on their feet while they found work.

“Ya,”
Jake agreed reluctantly. “Sleeps over our garage.”

Rachel watched him closely. “I’d guess he’s not the only house guest you have.”

He gave her a steady look. “Mast, you said? You wouldn’t happen to be the woman I read about in the paper a few months ago—opened the bed-and-breakfast in the old mill house?”

She answered his question with one of her own. “Is Enosh the only ex-Amish you have working for you, Mr. Sweitzer?”

“Why do you ask?” His eyes narrowed, and she was afraid she might have stepped over the line.

Rachel was relieved that Evan knew to just keep quiet at this point and let her steer the conversation. He stood next to her, listening.

“You own a construction company,” she said. “Amish boys are good carpenters. It’s one skill that translates to the Englisher world. By your name, I’d suspect that you are first or second generation away from a horse and buggy yourself.” She shrugged. “I can spot them. I bet you can, too.” She offered a quiet smile. “I left when I was eighteen.”

He grimaced. “Sure
you
aren’t the cop? You hit the nail on the head. I left at sixteen, twenty-six years ago. For the first two years, I nearly starved to death, and the next, it’s a wonder I didn’t end up in prison.”

“So you help where you can,” she said, with understanding in her tone.

Jake shrugged again. “Amish kids find their way to my door. I feed them, give them a bed and the chance to earn an honest dollar. If that’s against the law, put the cuffs on me.” He offered callused hands, and Rachel saw that half of his left index finger was missing. Jake flashed a crooked grin. “Skil saw. First week on the job.”

Rachel winced. She could see it all in her mind’s eye: a skinny, scared kid with a bad haircut. One mistake, and a lifetime of paying for it. She held up her right thumb revealing the shiny scar of an old burn. “Electric stove top.”

“I win,” Jake said. “No contest.”

“Ya,”
she agreed. “You win.” She sensed that a connection had been made between them. For a few steps, she and Jake Sweitzer had walked the same path. “Do you ever think of going back?” she asked him.

His mouth firmed. “Do you?”

Emotion made her voice thick. “More often than I like to admit.”

Jake nodded. “I know the feeling. Three kids, an English wife that I’m crazy about, and two mortgages. Still . . . the old life, it calls to me. You know what I mean?”

“I do,” she admitted. She looked up at Evan, saw the puzzlement in his eyes, and offered him a rueful smile. “But I’m not giving in to it.”

Jake nodded toward the men on the nearest roof. “I’ve helped twelve, fourteen Amish kids over the years. Maybe half went back home and joined the church. Of the others, I only lost one to the pleasures of the world. But Enosh is the best of the lot. I’ll not see him hurt. He’s come a long way, but he’s still fragile.”

She gazed at Timothy and Enosh and the other men who had joined them. “Did you have any girls pass through?”

Jake shook his head. “
Ne.
Girls are a lot trickier. Most don’t stay away from the old life for long. And any who have shown up on my doorstep, I’ve passed them on to other people. My wife, Jen, and I have three boys. I wouldn’t know the first thing about girls. It could be that Enosh knows something about one or more of them. But, like I said before, not Beth Glick. We talked about it, Enosh and me. He went to school with her. He was shocked as h—” Jake caught himself. “Shocked as the rest of us when he heard about her murder. Was she trying to go back to her family?”

“We don’t know,” Rachel answered. “That’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“We’d still like to talk to Enosh,” Evan said quietly. “With no details, we have no motive. If we don’t catch whoever killed her, he might kill again. If Enosh could do anything to prevent that . . .” He left the rest unspoken.

Jake considered and then nodded. “My crew’s a little spooked. I’ve got three others here who left the Amish.” He thought for a minute, then spoke again. “There’s a diner about a mile from here. We usually stop there for coffee after work. Enosh likes the apple pie. He says it reminds him of his
grossmama
’s. Take him over there. He’ll talk to you if I ask him. Just don’t put any pressure on him to go back home.” He smiled. “Enosh isn’t much for coffee, but he likes the hot chocolate with whipped cream just fine.”

Ten minutes later, Rachel and Evan sat in a booth at the diner across from Timothy and Enosh. Enosh was blond, short, wiry, and clearly nervous. “Like I told Jake,” he said in Deitsch, “I know nothing about Beth. Haven’t seen her since I left Stone Mill.”

Evan frowned. “English, please,” he said.

“
Ya,
sure thing.” Enosh plucked a napkin from the stainless steel holder on the table. “But I can’t tell you nothing.” He glanced at Timothy. “Don’t know why you told ’em I was here.”

“He didn’t,” Rachel said. “One of the Cut-Ups told where you were working, not to me but to one of my cousins.” That was safe enough, she thought. She had so many cousins, Enosh would never know where to put the blame.

The young man sat back in the booth, looking very much like a defiant Englisher kid.

“Have you been in touch with any of the girls who left the valley?” Rachel asked.

The waitress came to the table with their orders, a hamburger and fries for Timothy, coffee for Evan, and pie with ice cream for her and Enosh, plus his hot chocolate with whipped cream. When the waitress walked away, Rachel named the other missing girls: Hannah Verkler, Lucy Zug, and Lorraine Yoder.

As she named each one, Enosh shook his head. “
Ne,
none of them,” he said. But he twitched and his ears reddened when she mentioned Lucy Zug.

Evan stirred his coffee. The white mug was oversized and bore the image of a silver guitar on the outside. “I hear you have a girlfriend.”

“She’s English,” Timothy put in.

“My cousin Mary Aaron Hostetler is good friends with Hannah Verkler,” Rachel said. “She’s really worried about her. Are you sure you don’t know Hannah? She left after Beth.”

Enosh sighed. “I
knew
Hannah, but I haven’t seen her. I told you, I don’t know nothing about any of them girls. Not since I left Stone Mill.” He dug his fork into the apple pie and took a large bite.

“Except Lucy,” Rachel said, taking a forkful of apple pie.

Enosh chewed, keeping his gaze fixed on his plate.

“You won’t get into any trouble, Enosh,” Evan told him. “We need your help.”

When he didn’t respond, Rachel said, “How would you feel if what happened to Beth happened to Lucy?”

Enosh swallowed. “Nothing’s going to happen to Lucy. She’s fine.”

Timothy elbowed his buddy. “You might as well tell them what you know about Lucy. I know Rachel, and she won’t leave you in peace until you do.”

Enosh ran a hand through his close-cropped, white-blond hair. He didn’t look twenty-two; he could have passed for sixteen. Only his eyes appeared old and world-weary. “She’s fine,” he insisted. “I talked to her last week.”

“Where is she?” Evan asked, abandoning his coffee.

“State College. She’s got a job taking care of a baby for some teacher at Penn State.”

“She works as a babysitter?” Rachel asked.

“Nanny.” Enosh used the Deitsch term, which translated as “nurse for a baby.” “She lives with the family. They treat her good. They even bought her a car.”

“So how is it that you know where Lucy is but none of the others?” Evan asked, taking out his iPhone. “Can you give us an address? Her phone number?”

“She’s got a good job,” Enosh said. “Lucy likes it there. Don’t make trouble for her.”

“We’re not making trouble for anyone.” Rachel pointed at him with her fork. “We’re trying to prevent trouble and to find whoever murdered Beth Glick. If you care about Lucy, you’ll tell us how to contact her.”

“Don’t worry. We can trust Rachel and him. They won’t make her go home,” Timothy said. “And they won’t tell her father where she is.”

“Lucy was pals with my sisters,” Enosh said slowly. “They told me to look out for her when we . . .” He filled his mouth with pie.

“And you are looking out for her,” Rachel assured him when he didn’t finish. “More than you know.”

Beads of sweat broke out on the boy’s forehead, and he wiped them off with the back of his hand. Rachel folded her arms and gazed at him. “You want to do the right thing, Enosh. I know you do.”

He squirmed in his seat and absently mopped up a drip of melted ice cream on the table with a napkin. “Okay,” he said reluctantly. “I don’t know the house address, but I can give you her phone number. If she won’t talk to you, it’s not my fault.”

Twenty minutes later, Rachel, Evan, and Timothy left the diner. Enosh remained where he was, working on his second piece of pie and second cup of hot chocolate while he waited for a ride.

None of the three spoke until they got back into the Jeep.

“A network,” Evan said, as she backed out of the parking place. “Jake Sweitzer as good as admitted that there’s a network of people helping these kids once they run away. They’re finding them places to stay, jobs. I had no idea.”

“Ya,”
Timothy agreed. “Englishers.” He shook his head in amazement. “I never heard about that.” And then he asked, “Will I be home in time for night milking?”