Suspendered Sentence (An Amish Mystery) (25 page)

If Howard was right and Elizabeth’s death hadn’t been an accident, could it be related to what happened to Sadie? Had someone known Elizabeth was about to tell? Had someone tried to stop her?

“Claire? Please. Talk to me. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

She shook the troubling thought from her head long enough to frame an answer that wouldn’t be too premature to share with her aunt. “It seems as if Elizabeth’s journal was right and four people
did
know the truth behind Sadie Lehman’s fate. Three of them are still alive and facing—or, about to face—the consequences for whatever happened that night.”

“Like Leroy’s five little children,” Diane mumbled just loud enough for Claire to hear.

“Six, now, but yes . . . And Miriam’s brood, too. And whatever life Michael has going for himself beyond just his run for an office he’ll never be elected to now.”

Diane’s second gasp was followed by a distinctive clucking sound that succeeded in guiding Claire away from the fire and back to her spot on the couch. “What are you thinking, Aunt Diane?”

The clucking eventually stopped only to be replaced by a slow, almost methodical shake of the woman’s head. “Unlike Josiah, who is fanatical about being Amish, Ryan O’Neil is fanatical about his son and their legacy in this town. He has whitewashed that young man’s life every step of the way just to get him to this point.”

“And what point is that?” Claire asked.

“A veritable shoo-in as Heavenly’s next mayor.”

Chapter 24

C
laire didn’t have to look far to see the vast differences between her old life in New York City and her new life in Heavenly, Pennsylvania.

They were there each morning as she came down to breakfast, her aunt’s cheerful “good morning” a stark contrast to the precoffee silent treatment that had ruled her mornings with Peter.

They were there each day as she unlocked the front door of her very own dream instead of always waiting to be included in someone else’s.

They were there when people stopped on the sidewalk just to say hi, rather than elbow past with nary an upward glance.

They were there when the dinner she helped make for eight was actually eaten by eight, instead of the countless candlelit dinners for two that had been eaten by one.

And they were there when she climbed into bed at the end of the day and the light peeking around her shade came from the moon and stars rather than the roof rack of a passing emergency vehicle.

Yet, as much as she loved Heavenly and everything about her life in the quaint town, worry, stress, and uncertainty still crept into her heart. Sometimes, that worry was for a troubled friend or her often-overworked aunt. Sometimes, the stress rolled in on the heels of a lackluster week at the shop, when bad weather kept customers and their wallets at home. Sometimes, the uncertainty that had affected her faith in herself through much of her former marriage reared its head and made her second-guess whatever was building between her and Jakob.

But that night, as she stared up at the ceiling and tried to summon sleep, it was a combination of all three that threatened the success of her efforts.

She’d always been a worrier. It was in her blood. It didn’t matter that she’d known Annie less than a week, and the teenager’s brother-in-law and his children even less than that. Just knowing that their lives were about to change in drastic ways had her worrying about everything from trickle-down effect on her teenage employee, to the despair six innocent children were about to know, firsthand.

The stress was easy to pinpoint, too. Benjamin was her friend and she cared about him very much. And while she hadn’t known him at the time, she was well aware of the hurt he still carried over the sudden and tragic death of his young wife—a death Howard had called out as questionable and now had Claire considering a very real and very disturbing scenario that made all too much sense.

As for the uncertainty, well, that came into play over what, if anything, she should say regarding Elizabeth. And to whom she should say it.

Did she raise the subject with Ben? And if she did, and it proved accurate, what would that do to him all these years later?

Did she raise the subject with Jakob? And if she did, would he be offended at the suggestion his fellow officers had failed to do their job fourteen years earlier, or would he see her as some sort of wacky conspiracy theorist who could never just relax?

So many times during the course of her marriage, she’d posed work-related thoughts and suggestions to Peter, only to get shut down each time with a roll of his eyes or a dismissive turn of his head.

Did she really want to put herself on the line like that with Jakob? Especially now that their friendship was blossoming into something deeper?

She pulled the covers all the way up to her chin and then flipped onto her side, the lack of light seeping around the edges of her shade a by-product of the clouds that had started rolling into town, midday. With Leroy’s latest circumstances and Eva’s new baby, the likelihood Annie would be helping around the store the next day was slim to none. A night of limited sleep added to the mix would only make her Saturday even harder.

Still, she couldn’t clear her mind and couldn’t make her eyes close for more than a fleeting second. Instead, all she could do was come back to the same terrifying certainty that had played with her thoughts all evening long . . .

Had someone killed Elizabeth to ensure she didn’t disclose Sadie’s fate?

And if so, who?

She knew the likely candidates would be found among those who shared the same secret—Miriam, Leroy, and Michael.

She also knew that to go to the extreme measure of murder to safeguard a secret, the expected fallout from that secret had to be significant.

Rolling back to her starting position, Claire flung the covers off her upper body and lifted herself into a sitting position with the headboard as her support. Thanks to Elizabeth’s journal, they knew exactly who the remaining living players were . . .

Miriam Hochstetler, now Stoltzfus.

Leroy Beiler.

And Michael O’Neil.

Three very different people, with three very different demeanors and backgrounds.

Miriam, by several accounts, had been a rebel during her Rumspringa years. She’d also been the daughter of the then bishop. The latter certainly provided motive for keeping the secret to start with, but would it be a powerful enough motive to kill a friend years later?

Then again, the woman had, essentially, ran off within days of Sadie’s body being found. Surely that didn’t bode well for her innocence.

Leroy, by his own admission that very morning, had been scared when Sadie died. He’d been drinking, he was Amish, and he was smitten with a young girl he desperately wanted to marry. But was any of that reason for him to murder a friend? Particularly when said murder happened after he and Eva were officially married?

It was hard to know, hard to digest. But one thing was for sure, Miriam and Leroy had finally come forward to talk about Sadie Lehman. Would someone who was guilty of an offshoot crime do that? She didn’t think so.

And then there was Michael O’Neil—the son, grandson, and great-grandson of three of Heavenly’s past mayors. A son whom Diane had described as being virtually groomed for the local seat from the day he was born. On one hand, if Michael’s mistakes were always wiped clean thanks to his father’s long arms, why would he think whatever happened to Sadie would be any different? And if his father could make things go away, why would Michael need to kill Elizabeth just to keep the original secret?

It was a question that came down to the power of a mayor in a small town like Heavenly—a power Jakob had insisted wouldn’t stretch to murder . . .

But was he right?

She glanced at the nightstand and the outline of her cell phone beside its base. There was a part of her that wanted nothing more than to pick up the phone, dial Jakob’s number, and unleash all of her thoughts and fears into his always-listening ear. But just as she reached for the phone to actually place the call, she chickened out.

Everything that was preventing her from sleeping was pure conjecture. Conjecture that had haunted her thoughts from the moment Howard had uttered his suspicion aloud.

She liked Howard, she really did. He was kind, thoughtful, giving of his knowledge and experience, and smart. But he was also a busybody who liked to know everyone’s business and then spread it around to everyone else.

Elizabeth’s death more than a decade earlier was old news to everyone in Heavenly except Claire. Maybe the only basis for Howard’s comment was simply to have something to say. Maybe his theory was more a case of “what if?” than anything else.

If either of those reasons had, in fact, spawned Howard’s comment, she’d look ridiculous taking it to Jakob.

But if
it
didn’t . . . and
she
didn’t . . . a killer who’d already been allowed to walk free for more than a decade would continue to do so for countless more.

Was her pride really worth that much?

This time, when she reached for her phone, she didn’t stop. If she was wrong about Elizabeth, then she was wrong. It was a chance she was willing to take.

Glancing down at the screen, she swallowed.

Eleven forty-five
P.M.

It was too late to call.

Even if he was awake, which she doubted, she wanted him clearheaded when she shared her thoughts with him.

No, it would have to wait until morning. Or, rather, tomorrow evening when she closed her shop for the day. Maybe then, over coffee and hot chocolate at Heavenly Brews, they could talk.

If he was available . . .

She peeked at the time once more and then pressed the message icon on the upper left-hand corner of her phone. It was too late for a phone call, but maybe a text would be okay.

If he was awake and heard the message come in, he’d respond.

If he wasn’t, then he’d at least be aware of her request and better able to work it into his schedule.

But what did she say?

Did she say she thought Elizabeth was murdered?

Did she tell him she had an idea about the Lehman case she wanted to run by him?

“Why don’t you just come right out and tell him you want to stick your nose in where it doesn’t belong and see how long it takes before he stops coming around completely?” she hissed beneath her breath. “Yeah, that’s the one, idiot . . .”

She stared down at the blank screen for a moment and then simply handed the choice over to her tired fingers.

Hi there.

Been thinking about a few things tonight. Hoping I can share them with you tomorrow? Any chance we can grab a hot choc at Heavenly Brews tomorrow evening after I close? My treat.

Claire

Glancing back through the message, she opted to spell out chocolate and add a smiley face icon beside her name before finally pressing send.

And then she waited.

One minute.

Two minutes.

“He must be—”

The answering buzz of her phone cut her observation short and made her sit up even taller. She opened the message, the words a bit blurry to her sleep-deprived eyes.

Claire,

Doesn’t look good 4 a hot choc 2moro.

Busy.

Rain check?

Jakob

She didn’t need daylight and a mirror to know her face had fallen along with her shoulders. And it wasn’t just because she couldn’t play Watson to Jakob’s Holmes. No, she also wanted to spend time with him—time she’d all but ruined at his house the other night.

“Who are you kidding? A hot-chocolate date would go the same way as the movie date . . .” She let her head drift back against the headboard with a faint
thud
as she pondered her situation and the fact that her aunt’s periodic coughing from the next room followed each and every self-recrimination Claire uttered aloud.

She contemplated answering Jakob’s message with something fun and flirty, but she had nothing to offer in either department. And if she went the honest route, her disappointment stood a good chance of coming across as whiny.

Instead, she simply shut her phone off and returned it to her nightstand, another sleepless night now a veritable given.

Chapter 25