Whispers from the Dead (Serenity's Plain Secrets Book 2) (4 page)

4

E
ven with the foreign scents of the lamp oil and wood smoke, and the early morning crowing of several roosters, I still slept well. It was the bright sunshine slicing through the window at nine o’clock in the morning that finally got me moving.

Stoking up the fire in the stove, making a cup of coffee with a pot of water on the stove and even brushing my teeth with water from the tank had all been quite the adventure. I couldn’t help glancing down at the dime size hole on the knee of my jeans where an ember had sparked out of the stove and landed on me while I had been stuffing the logs in. It had taken an unreasonable amount of time to just get the basics taken care of. And then there was the whole indoor-outhouse to deal with.

It was unfathomable to understand why anyone would put themselves through this kind of daily torture when it wasn’t necessary. But as I peeked out the corner of the window and watched Rowan’s children hooking up a devilish looking red pony to an open cart, I could kind of understand the culture’s allure.

The kids had been busy little bees ever since the first time I pushed the sheer curtain aside to look outside. I caught glimpses of them throwing corn on the ground for a colorful flock of chickens, filling up water troughs with hoses dragged all throughout the barnyard and pouring feed into the long troughs for the cows that were patiently lined up waiting to be fed.

It was quite impressive really, how each child had specific jobs to do and that they did them without adult supervision. As I sipped the strong brew of coffee I’d made, I had the opportunity to watch Rowan going about his business, too. He hadn’t stopped moving since the first moment I’d spotted him mending a fence with one of his sons.

The boy looked to be in his mid-teens and I wondered if he was the Gabe Schwartz that the teens at the gas station had been talking about. The group obviously had ties to the community and must have some opportunities to mingle or they wouldn’t have been talking with such familiarity about the Amish kids. It was an interesting dynamic for sure and one that made me think about Naomi Beiler and her fateful relationship with my nephew, Will.

At the heart of it, teenagers were all very similar. Friendship, romance and fun were on everyone’s mind—regardless of their culture. But I definitely thought that Amish teens had it worse off. Not only did they have to deal with the usual coming of age troubles, but they also had to adhere to a much stricter set of laws that forbid them from using any kind of technology, holding hands with their significant others or having much freedom at all. The lifestyle was definitely not Naomi’s cup of tea and tragically, she ended up dead because of another troubled Amish teenager.

I turned away from the window and tried the internet on my phone once again. If I stood in the far corner of the room, I managed to get intermittent service, but it was an irritating process, and so far I hadn’t been able to remain still enough to pull up the information that I was looking for. Surely the house fire that had killed Rowan’s wife had been mentioned in the local newspaper. Was there a connection between that fire and the more recent arsons? I had learned the hard way that true coincidences were rare, and if these events were indeed related, I worried about the implications for Rowan and his family.

The knock at the door startled me and I rolled my eyes at my own jumpiness. But as I took the few steps to cross the room, I couldn’t help having a flashback to the darkened barn back in Blood Rock and the dozen or so Amish men with their long beards and black hats staring down at me as I lay on the floor, bleeding. That was really a bad night, and one that still gave me occasional nightmares.

When I opened the door, I was surprised to see one of the little girls who I had been spying on earlier standing on the steps. There were a few wisps of auburn hair free from her black bonnet and her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold, morning air. Her thick black coat was buttoned up to her chin and she wore muddy black boots.

Her bright blue eyes stared up at me unblinkingly and I realized that just as I’d been making observations about her appearance, she had also been studying me with rapt curiosity.

I held my hand out and said, “Hello, I’m Serenity. What’s your name?”

I guessed that the girl was probably around nine years old and when she smiled, her face came alive.

“Lucinda.” She pointed back at the open buggy that was now attached to the pony and went on, “Mareena got Toby hitched up. Do you want to go for a ride with us?”

A sudden jolt of excitement raced through me when I gazed at the large pony stomping his hoof with impatience. The sunshine had warmed the air and the rhythmic
drip, drip, drip
sound of melting snow from the roof tops filled my ears. The thaw also had created an icy sheen in the barnyard that glittered, making the scene look as if it was the cover of a Christmas card. I deliberated quickly, deciding that the invitation to go for a buggy ride through the winter wonderland was more than I could refuse. The investigation could wait a little longer I easily convinced myself. With an exhilarated rush, I said, “I would love to. Let me grab my coat and gloves.”

My first impression of the spirited pony had been dead on. The buggy surged forward with a jolt that sent me thudding back onto the vinyl upholstered cushion. Mareena, Lucinda’s older sister, held the reins tightly and I could see the strain on her face as she tried to keep the pony from an all-out gallop down the driveway. For a nervous moment, I mentally kicked myself in the butt for putting my life in the hands of a twelve year old, but when the girl jerked hard with the left rein and shouted out an indistinguishable German word, the pony finally slowed.

“Halt mal! Stop…!” The child’s shout from behind us brought both Lucinda and I turning around. A small girl was running after us, shouting a confusing mixture of languages at the buggy.

“Ach…Cacey wants to come,” Lucinda grumbled.

Mareena stood up to pull the high strung pony to a prancing stop. When Cacey reached us, she was breathing hard and looking up at us with pleading eyes. She said, “I want to come, Reena!”

“Oh, all right,” Mareena responded, still fighting the pony to stand still.

Lucinda reached down and grabbed Cacey’s hand as the little girl climbed the step into the cart. The three of us were already crammed onto the narrow seat as it was and I was wondering where the little girl would sit, when Lucinda pushed Cacey onto my lap and the buggy lurched forward once again.

As I clutched the child tightly, I caught a glimpse of Rowan standing beside the barn watching us. He wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning either. The man was impossible to read and that troubled me.

I had to put aside my anxieties about the investigation and focused on hanging on for dear life instead. Cacey leaned back against me rigidly and stared at the scenery flying by with a solemnness that made me wonder why she’d wanted to come along for the ride in the first place.

The cattle corrals swooshed by and soon we were turning out onto the main roadway with only a mild slow down to make the turn without flipping. My heart pounded against my ribcage as the outside wheels lifted off the ground a fraction. The buggy righted itself with a bounce and once again we were moving with speed across the wet pavement.

The bristling needle pricks of wind on my cheeks invigorated my senses and I gulped a deep breath of cold air as I watched fields, barns and farmhouses pass by.

Being in law enforcement, I still bristled at the fact that a mere child was allowed to careen around on the roadway without a license while everyone else had to wait until they were sixteen to drive legally. It was extraordinary what the Amish got away with.

“Mareena, do you have to go so fast?” I asked, still gripping Cacey’s little body tightly.

“It takes a bit for Toby to calm down. He’s awfully feisty,” she told me, but she did begin tugging on the reins and amazingly the pony responded, slowing to a fast-paced walk.

“See, he’s settled now,” Lucinda chimed in.

“Don’t you girls ever get scared when Toby runs off like that?” I said, releasing my hold of Cacey. Seeing the immaculate farmsteads of the Poplar Springs community at a slower speed was more like the wonderland buggy ride that I was envisioning a few minutes earlier.

“Naw, why would we?” Mareena asked. Her eyebrows were lifted and her mouth scrunched up to the side in honest confusion. I glanced at Lucinda to see her face holding a similar expression and it suddenly occurred to me that their brains worked differently than everyone else’s. They honestly weren’t afraid of something that would have made most grown men pee their pants. I wondered how such fearlessness would benefit a child as they grew up, but then I remembered that there were things that they were afraid of, such as getting punished by the Church elders for starters.

Daniel had cued me in that the teenagers were the ones to talk to when information was needed. He had said that they were usually rebellious and would say things that the adults wouldn’t, or something to that affect. I wondered if it was even truer with the younger children.

“This is a very large Amish settlement, isn’t it?” I spoke to both girls at once.

Mareena had the same auburn colored hair as Lucinda, but the locks poking out from beneath Cacey’s cap were dark brown, similar to her father’s. I imagined that their mother had probably been a red head and judging by her daughters’ pretty faces, was an attractive woman as well.

As a cop, I was no stranger to broken families and kids in bad circumstances, but a knot still formed in my throat when I thought about these three vivacious girls growing up without their mother. It made me even more determined to find out the circumstances of the house fire that had killed her.

Mareena answered my question proudly, “This is one of the biggest Amish community in Indiana.”

A slight hiccup of an accent was present in her speech making me feel a little bit as if I was traveling along the countryside in the Alps, instead of the American Midwest.

Lucinda tugged on my arm and pointed at a metal building on the hill to the left. “There’s Jotham Hochstetler’s store!” she exclaimed.

The building was white with a black roof and trim. The gravel parking lot in front was nearly full with a mixture of buggies and cars, along with a few of the large white vans that I’d become familiar with at Naomi’s wake. It was obviously a busy place and as we turned up the road that led to the store, I was excited at the opportunities that might arise to dig for information about the arsons. I was also strangely anxious at the thought of being surrounded by a whole new group of Amish. I had learned firsthand they didn’t like outsiders and they were all very good at keeping secrets.

As the beating of my heart increased, two buggies and a minivan approached us. Toby lifted his legs higher and arched his neck when we passed by the larger horses in their shiny leather harnesses.

“Hallo, Mareena. Hoe gatt het?” the woman driving the first buggy called out.

Mareena answered in English and I was once again puzzled at how they switched back and forth between English and their own form of German so effortlessly.

“I’m well, Mrs. Fisher. We’re just bringing in a few pies for the bakery.” And then, as if she had just remembered that I sat squeezed up against her, she added, “This is Serenity. She came to find out who is burning down the barns.” Mareena pointed her chin toward the woman and said, “That’s Joanna Fisher, the bishop’s wife.”

It took a lot of effort not to react to her words, but I somehow managed to keep my composure. “Nice to meet you,” I said.

Joanna pulled her horse to a stop, even though there was a buggy and a minivan full of beards and caps waiting behind her.

“It’s so very good to have you with us, Serenity. I do hope you’ll be able to get to the bottom of these horrible fires so we can sleep better at night.”

Joanna was younger than what I would have expected for a bishop’s wife. She was slim and fair haired with the oval face of an aristocrat. Her overt friendliness was surprising considering my past encounters with the Blood Rock Amish people, but I was also getting the definite vibe that Joanna was a gossip and enjoyed the bad news the same as the good.

I would have to watch my guard around such a woman, but she also might be the perfect person to sponge information from, too.

“I can promise you, I’ll give it my best.” I hesitated only a second after seeing a few faces peering out from the buggy and said, “Can we meet sometime to talk?”

Joanna grinned, “Why of course. I’m butchering a hog this afternoon, but tomorrow afternoon would be a fine time for you to come to the house for a visit.”

“Thank you. I’ll see you then,” I replied quickly, figuring the girls or Rowan could give me directions. Even if it was to my benefit, I still hated to keep everyone waiting in the road for us to finish our conversation.

“Until then, weltrusten!” Joanna clucked the chestnut horse and it surged forward.

Lucinda leaned in and said, “That means goodbye.”

The inhabitants of the other buggy and the minivan stuck their hands out the windows to wave at us when they finally got on their way and I couldn’t help but admire them all for their patience. In the city, such a delay would have had horns blowing and obscenities ringing in the air.

“So, does the entire community know about why I’m here?” I asked Mareena, already guessing the answer.

She shrugged. “Everyone’s been talking about it.”

I had to give the girl credit. She had a level head and wasn’t going to willingly say too much on the matter. I guess Daniel had been right after all. The teens did seem to have the loosest lips in the Amish world.

Once we parked and Toby was tied to one of the many hitching rails provided for the Amish customers, I climbed down from the cart with Cacey in my arms and gently deposited her on the ground. The melting snow was splashing down in long, thin streams from the eaves of the building and I had to duck quickly to get to the walkway without getting wet. I unzipped my jacket and pulled off my gloves. The warm-up was a pleasant surprise.