The Search (12 page)

Feeling her knees start to shake, Beth stumbled to the couch. What could she say, anyway? That her guest had scary friends?

But, of course, that wasn't the right thing to do.

No, what she was going to have to do was go upstairs and let herself into Chris Ellis's room. She was going to have to search to find out more about him in order for Frannie to be safe.

All she was certain of was that if Chris found out she'd been looking through his things, she could very well be in danger, too.

Feeling like she was in someone else's body, she calmly walked to Frannie's office, pulled the main ring of keys out of her desk drawer, then made her way upstairs to Room 1A.

Chapter 14

“Once Perry and I snuck down to the quarry. The No Trespassing signs made no difference to him.”

J
ACOB
S
CHROCK

L
uke's first impression of Jacob Schrock was that he would be a popular man whether in a large corporation in New York City, in the middle of a college campus, or here in the Amish community.

He was a handsome kid and seemed sure of himself.

Too sure and popular to get sucked down into the abyss that Perry Borntrager had fallen into.

“So you were in Louisville?” he asked, purposely naming the wrong city.

“Lexington,” Jacob corrected. “I like going to the horse auctions.”

“But aren't those auctions just for racehorses?”

“Not all of them. Some breeders bring stock that they're hoping to get off their hands. Every once in a while you can find some horses perfect for buggies or working the farm.”

“I'm surprised you'd spend two weeks going to auctions. Your parents' store is always busy. Weren't you needed here?”

“It's not much of a surprise.” Looking vaguely amused by Luke's ignorance, he said, “I like horses. If my parents didn't have this store, I probably would've done something with breeding or doctoring them. Besides, I work every day. It was as good a time as any to take a break.”

Again, his manner was matter-of-fact, but Luke still had a feeling he wasn't getting the whole story. “I find it a coincidence that you left to go to the auction the same day that Perry's body was found.”

Jacob shrugged. “I don't know what to tell you. I don't plan the auctions, I just go to them.”

Luke didn't appreciate the flippant remark. Something about the boy's story didn't ring true to him. “I heard that you were once good friends with Perry. Why don't you tell me what you knew of him.”

Jacob's eyebrows rose. “So, I guess we're done with pretending you're here for anything other than Perry's death, huh?”

“We both know there's no other reason for me to be in Crittenden County.” With effort, Luke pushed away all thoughts of Frannie Eicher. It didn't matter that she seemed to be on his mind all the time. There was only one reason for him to still be in Kentucky, and that was to do a job. “So,” he asked again, “tell me about Perry.”

Jacob stretched out his legs and crossed his feet at his ankles. “Perry and I grew up together. A few years ago, he started working here.”

“So you were good friends.”

“We were friends most of the time. But we were close because of proximity, not by choice.” His gaze turned shadowed. “For years, Perry and Deborah and I walked to school together.”

“Deborah is Perry's sister?”

“Jah.”
With a shrug, Jacob said, “There ain't much to tell you, Detective.”

“Really? I would've thought Perry being fired from the store was a big deal.”

Jacob swallowed. “It was a big deal. My
daed
was upset about Perry stealing. He felt bad for firing him, too. Mr. and Mrs. Borntrager thought my father was being too harsh.”

Luke wasn't surprised to hear that. He'd come to learn that Perry's parents had made multiple excuses for his behavior over the years. “So how did you feel about your father firing Perry? Were you upset?”

“I was upset that he stole from my family's store,” Jacob corrected. “I was upset that he was shifty and had seemed to think that neither my father nor I would notice money missing from the cashbox.” He paused. “If you want to know the truth, when he was fired, I was glad.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” Jacob's voice now held a slice of bitterness. “Even when my
daed
confronted him, he acted so smug. I honestly think he was shocked that my father told him to leave.”

“Why do you think Perry was so surprised?”

“Because he didn't think my father was smart. By now, you've probably had at least one run-in with my father and one of his schemes for the store.”

“Like the guinea pigs?”

A slow smile lit his face as Jacob shook his head. “I'm so glad I missed those guinea pigs.”

“The snakes were worse.”

“I bet they were,” he said with a laugh. Sobering, he said, “Here's the thing, Detective. My father is a good man, and though he comes up with fanciful ideas, the store has made a profit every single week it's been open. Not many businesses can say that.”

“I don't think many could,” Luke replied honestly.

“My
daed
runs a good business. But it takes a lot of patience. And some experience with keeping your mouth shut. Perry . . . he never learned to do that.”

“Walker Anderson . . . has he?”

“Walker?” Jacob looked caught off guard by Luke mentioning him. “I don't think Walker cares one way or the other what plot my father has concocted, as long as he gets paid. But Perry, he took my father for a fool and started stealing from us almost from the beginning.”

Luke noticed that Jacob was referring to the store as
theirs
. It was becoming obvious that his relationship with his father was strong on several levels. It was also obvious that the business was a family business, and that Jacob felt as much a part of its success or failure as his father did.

“So . . . how did your father find out about Perry stealing?”

Jacob's eyes darted to the left, looking like he was debating whether or not to answer the question. Finally, he said, “Walker told me.”

“Maybe Walker was stealing, too?”

“No,” he said quickly. “He wouldn't have done that.” He cleared his throat. “After Walker told me, I noticed money was missing from the cashbox several times a week. There was only one way for it to be missing. Perry.”

“What did you do then? Tell your dad?”

Jacob shook his head. “No. Not at first.”

“Well, then?”

“I took care of it myself.” As he heard his words, his lips pursed and he held up a hand. “No, that's not quite right. At first I thought I was going to be able to take care of it myself. Then Walker quit, and Perry didn't listen.”

“You didn't want to just go tell your father? That seems to be the most reasonable solution.”

Jacob folded his arms across his broad chest. “You think I'd go tattle to my father like a child?
Nee,
I didn't do that. Besides, knowing Perry was stealing from him would have broken his heart. My father has a kind heart toward all things . . . even liars and thieves.”

“And hens.”

The quip did as he'd hoped. Slowly, Jacob's shoulders eased. “Yeah, even hens.”

“So, why did Walker quit?”

“He knew what was happening and got fed up.”

“You sound like you resent that.”

“Not really,” he said slowly. “I can't say I wouldn't have done the same in his position. I mean, the store doesn't mean as much to Walker as it does to me. For him, it was just a job. And Perry was trouble.”

“So, what did happen when you confronted Perry?”

Jacob angled his body so he could clearly see the door that opened into the main store. “What happened was I hit him, Detective.”

Luke hadn't thought he could be any more surprised by the turn of events but he was. “You hit him? I don't want to sound rude, but I thought the Amish didn't believe in violence.”

“We don't. I don't. But when there's a kid set on intentionally hurting your father, well, that's different. When your father's honor is on the line, when family is involved, everything that you know to be right doesn't matter. Don't you think?” He glanced Luke's way, his open gaze revealing nothing.

“I understand what it's like to feel betrayed,” Luke hedged.

Seemingly satisfied that Luke was on his side, Jacob continued. “I promise you this. At first I only talked to Perry. Told him I knew that he was taking money from the cashbox and that it needed to stop.”

It needed to stop. “And how did he respond to that?”

“Respond?” He laughed. “Not well. He told me I was a liar. And then he said I could never prove it.”

“And so what did you do?”

“I slugged him in the stomach.” Jacob's eyes warmed. “He doubled right over. It was a real sight, I tell you.”

With effort, Luke kept his face impassive. “Then what happened?”

“Then?” Jacob blinked, as if he was surprised by the question. “Then he straightened and told me he was going to tell my father that I hit him.”

“And you said . . .”

“I gave him the same words right back. I told him I'd like to see him prove it.” He took a breath. “And before you start asking what happened next, I'll save you the time, Detective. I turned around and left. I knew if he smirked at me again, I was going to slam my right fist into his chin.”

“Did he stop stealing?”

“You and I both know the answer to that, Detective. He was using the money to buy drugs. He didn't stop.”

“How did you find out about the drugs?”

“It wasn't hard to figure out. There were rumors. He started acting like a totally different guy.”

“What do you mean by ‘different'?”

“His temper was quicker, his moods more erratic. He lied more and more. And sometimes he never showed up for work.” His gaze hardened. “He stole more money. Eventually, I had no choice. I had to tell my
daed
.”

“And?”

Jacob looked sheepish. “Turns out he already knew. Like I said, my father is no fool.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he spoke again. “So there you go, Detective. He stole from us, I hit him, he didn't stop, and my
daed
fired him. It's not a terribly pleasant story, but it's the truth.”

“And did you ever see him again?”

“From a distance, sure.”

“Did he ever offer you drugs? Pills?”

“Me?” Jacob's smile widened. “No. He wouldn't have ever asked me about such things, Detective.”

“Why not?”

“Because I would've slugged him again. I don't do drugs.”

Luke gingerly got to his feet, realizing that his leg had betrayed him again. It had stiffened up. “I have to say, I'm a little surprised you've shared so much.”

“Punching a jerk is a whole lot different than killing a man, don't you think?”

“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

“Detective Reynolds, believe me or not . . . my life is a good one. I had no feelings for Perry Borntrager other than I didn't want him stealing from my parents. I didn't want him dead, I just wanted him out of my life.”

“Well, he is now, isn't he?” Luke said before leaving through the back door.

He was more troubled by the conversation with Jacob Schrock than he'd been by an interrogation in some time.

He only wondered if it was because he found fault with the way Jacob had dealt with everything . . . or if it was because he didn't believe everything that the guy had said.

R
oom 1A was dark when Beth carefully unlocked the door and entered. After turning on the gas lamp beside the bed, she scanned the area.

And almost immediately felt a feeling of dismay. She wasn't quite sure what she'd expected to find . . . but nothing seemed out of sorts. His bed, though not exactly neatly made, had the quilts pulled up and the sheets straight underneath. On the desk were a laptop computer and a leather satchel.

One of the T-shirts she'd seen Chris wear lay on the back of a chair. A portable alarm clock and an iPod was on his bedside table. As was a hardcover book.

Beth was tempted to turn right back around. But then her loyalty to Frannie took over. Beth had promised Frannie to take care of things to the best of her ability in her absence.

And though of course Beth had never imagined that she'd be worried about dangerous people coming to the inn, Frannie was going to need to know what had happened, and it wasn't going to help anyone if Beth was only full of guesses and innuendos.

Afraid someone was going to be lurking in the hall and would see her sneaking around in the room, she shut the door tightly behind her. Then locked it.

“You can do this,” she muttered. “You can do this.”

With that rather foolish encouragement, she strode forward and carefully opened the leather satchel. Looking for what, she didn't know. All she wanted was to find proof that she hadn't imagined the danger.

Inside the satchel was a series of folders. Inside were computer disks and papers, notes about Crittenden County.

Hands shaking, she skimmed the pages. Nothing looked familiar. Strange initials like DEA and ATF littered a few of the pages.

And then she saw Perry Borntrager's name.

She dropped the file like it was on fire as she tried to put the pieces together. Was Chris there to solve Perry's murder? Or had he had something to do with it?

With care, she slipped the papers back into the pouch and opened the desk's drawers. They were all empty.

Crossing to the armoire, she glanced inside, but only saw a few more T-shirts and a jacket.

Crossing to the bedside table, she picked up the book, and saw it was a historical novel set during WWII. Underneath it was a well-worn leather Bible.

Though she knew she was perhaps being naïve, she felt a little reassured. If Chris was traveling with a Bible, he had to be on the good side.

The door was beckoning her so strongly, she felt as if it was calling to her. Anxious to heed its call, she stepped forward. But then forced herself to finish her inspection. Carefully, she opened the single drawer in the bedside table. Saw a pair of glasses, a pencil.

And a black gun.

With a gasp, she shut the drawer and raced to the door. One quick motion unfastened the lock. She threw open the door, practically leapt through the doorway, then turned to lock the door behind her.