Murder Tightly Knit Read online

  Pam stepped closer. “How do you know it’s from the killer? Could be anyone.”

  “Handwriting is the same. That W—he made it the same way on the word Weaver.” Amber shook her head. “I can’t believe you used us as bait.”

  “And I might have been able to go after him if I hadn’t needed to make sure you were okay.”

  “Why didn’t you come into the meeting? Then you could have identified and arrested him.”

  “First of all, we still don’t know who he is. Second, as soon as I stepped into the meeting, one-third of the folks would have fled. Trust me, I’ve done this before.”

  “So you used us to draw him out.”

  “It occurred to me that he might try to warn you off.” Shaw slipped the rock and the note into an evidence bag he pulled from his pocket. “And although we don’t know who it is, we are one step closer. The person we’re looking for was here tonight, which means he’s probably a member of ISG.”

  “There were a lot of members in there, if you didn’t notice from where you hid in the bushes.” Amber stomped around to her side of the car. She wanted to go home, take a hot bath, and call Tate. “Good luck interviewing all of them.”

  “I don’t need to interview them all.” Shaw held the door open as she got in, and Pam settled into the passenger seat. “I only need to interview the Amish who were here.”

  When Amber glanced up at him, she was confused by what she saw. The man she’d come to loathe, the one who had been harassing all of them for the last week, had a look of concern on his face. Maybe he wasn’t the monster she’d made him out to be, or maybe she was tired and imagining things.

  “Didn’t you hear the buggy clatter away after the rock flew into your friend’s head? Our culprit is Amish. I’d bet my pension on it.”

  “Why didn’t he use a bow then, like before?”

  “You can’t deliver a note with a bow, and besides . . . maybe it’s not the killer. Maybe it’s someone helping the killer.”

  “Why would anyone do that?”

  “I don’t know, but this proves someone is helping Andrew Miller, and I’m about to catch him.”

  As they drove away, after looking in the passenger-side makeup mirror, Pam insisted she didn’t need stitches and that she would be fine once she applied an ice pack to her cut.

  Amber thought back over the evening. Finally she turned to look at Pam. “We can’t be sure the person is Amish. Anyone can drive a buggy, shoot an arrow, even use a slingshot. All we know is the person wants to appear Amish.”

  “And those three things are good ways to send the likes of Roland Shaw scurrying in the Amish direction.”

  They drove on in silence. Once they reached Pam’s home, a two-bedroom duplex that had been newly remodeled, Pam looked at Amber and said, “Why do you have that look on your face? I’ve seen it before, and it usually indicates trouble is brewing.”

  “I still don’t believe Andrew had a thing to do with Owen’s murder, and I’m going to find a way to prove it.”

  Thirty-Nine

  Hannah was surprised to look up and see Pam Coleman walk into A Simple Blend. The early crowd had left and the lunch crowd hadn’t arrived yet. She wondered why Pam was there. Hannah knew she didn’t drink coffee, preferring a Diet Coke for her caffeine needs.

  “What happened to your head?”

  Pam fingered the bandage across her forehead. “That’s what I came to talk to you about. Amber and I had an interesting evening last night.”

  Seth hadn’t arrived yet to cover the counter, but there weren’t any customers in the shop at the moment. Hannah plopped onto her stool. “Tell me! I’ve been waiting to hear from Jesse. He’s going to see Andrew this morning. I need something to take my mind off worrying.”

  “Not sure this will help with that.”

  Pam was in the middle of relaying the night’s events when Bradley walked into the shop. Hannah’s mind flashed back to the morning, almost a week ago, when she’d dodged him outside Mary’s yarn shop.

  “How can I help you, Bradley?”

  Pam moved to a table at the far side of the room and waited, pretending to focus on her cell phone, but Hannah could tell from the way she cocked her head and glanced up in their direction occasionally that she was listening.

  Bradley probably wasn’t aware of that since he was facing Hannah and his back was to Pam.

  “I was hoping to see you today, Hannah.” His red hair desperately needed cutting, in Hannah’s opinion. It fell into his eyes when he spoke. He didn’t attempt to move it, staring at her through the greasy strands instead.

  “This is a gut place to find me. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “I guess. I’ll take a . . . uh . . . coffee?”

  “That’s what we specialize in.” Hannah forced back a laugh when she saw Pam roll her eyes. “Do you know what flavor you’d like?”

  She pointed up to the menu that hung above the counter, but Bradley wasn’t interested in coffee. “Whatever you think is good.”

  While she poured the coffee, a pecan blend that had a slightly sweet taste to it, Bradley shuffled from foot to foot. “I was wondering if, that is, I wanted to ask . . .” He stared at the floor, apparently searching for the right words, which came out in a mumble. “Maybe we could go to a movie sometime.”

  Though she’d been expecting this, heat crept up her neck. “Thank you, Bradley, but I’m seeing someone right now.”

  Not to mention she didn’t date Englisch boys, and she didn’t go to movies, but that was probably more information than he needed.

  Bradley flinched, as if he had been hit, but he didn’t back down. “Yeah, I know about Jesse. I was thinking, though, that maybe it wasn’t too serious yet and maybe—”

  “I’m sorry, but that wouldn’t be appropriate for me to do.”

  “You’d have a good time.” Now he became more animated, waving his arms and speaking more quickly. “We could go to the movies in Goshen, and then I found this computer café where they allow you to play games for as long as you want. I thought I’d show you—”

  “She said no.” Pam was still sitting at her table, but apparently she’d heard enough.

  “I know she did, but—”

  “She said no,” Pam repeated. This time she stood and walked over to the counter. “Hannah has a boyfriend, and she doesn’t want to two-time him. Now, don’t you have work to do somewhere?”

  Bradley’s eyes darted from Hannah to Pam and back again. He nodded once and snatched his coffee from the counter. After rooting through his pockets, he came up with a dollar bill and dropped it on the counter.

  “That’s our special today. You only owe me—”

  “Keep it,” he muttered, and then he fled the shop.

  “That was awkward.” Hannah grabbed a dishcloth and swiped it across the counter. “I’ve sort of been avoiding him. I was afraid that might happen.”

  “What do you mean avoiding him? Has he been following you around or something?”

  “Nein. It’s only that we seem to run into each other a lot. The Village isn’t a large place. I didn’t want to have that conversation, so I’ve been trying to stay out of his way.”

  “When did this start?”

  Hannah sat back down on the stool. “Last week, maybe a few days before. I remember ducking into the back alley the morning Owen was killed, except I didn’t know then that Owen was killed.”

  “Odd coincidence.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t suggesting he had anything to do with the killing. I only meant that’s when I remember—”

  “Still an odd coincidence.”

  “How? How could Bradley have anything to do with Owen?”

  “Maybe he resents the Amish boys around town. You saw how he reacted when you said Jesse’s name.”

  “But no one killed Jesse.” Hannah’s stomach lurched at the thought.

  “True. But maybe he had a beef with Owen. Something we don’t know about.” Pam touched the bandage on
her forehead. “Someone tried to scare us off last night, and I’m going to find out who.”

  Amber hadn’t even made it to her midmorning break when she looked up and saw Tate standing at her door. She practically flew into his embrace as he walked into her office.

  “You’re early!”

  Tate wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “Our sunrise tee time was rained out. I decided to come on home and check on my beautiful bride.”

  She pulled back and placed her hands on both sides of his face. “You didn’t come home early because of me, did you? Because of what happened last night?”

  “No. I didn’t, but I am concerned.”

  They walked over to the two chairs facing Amber’s desk. “I was anxious to see for myself that you’re okay. You’ve had a busy few days.”

  If anything, he was more tanned than when he left. She supposed a few days of golf could do that to a person. He looked better to her than a piece of shoofly pie, and that was saying a lot.

  “Tell me about your trip first. How is Alan?”

  “He’s doing well, and his golfing skills have surpassed those of his old man.” He studied her a moment. “We had lots of time to talk. He’s visited his brother several times, and he was able to shed some light on Collin’s attitude.”

  “You mean why he doesn’t like me.” Amber felt the unease of the familiar stone of worry in her stomach.

  “Actually, he does like you. The problem is he feels he’s being unfaithful to his mother, and yes”—Tate held up his hand to stop her protests—“he realizes you’re not trying to replace her. Alan suggested we give him more time, not push things.”

  “Do you think that will work?”

  “I do. I know my son, and he’ll come around. We need to be patient.”

  Amber sighed. It wasn’t the answer she’d hoped for, but she could live with it.

  “Now let’s go over what’s happened around here.”

  Elizabeth appeared with two mugs of coffee. “I tried to keep an eye on her. It’s a difficult job, and I’m glad you’re back to take over.”

  Amber couldn’t stop the laughter that bubbled up out of her. She was still worried about many things, and having Tate home wouldn’t change what had happened or might happen, but it did change her heart. She was whole again.

  They discussed Tom’s group at the church, the ISG, and what had happened the night before.

  “Did Shaw take the note to Gordon? To see if the handwriting matched the other two?”

  “Yes. He turned in the note wrapped around the rock last night. Actually, there are three other handwriting samples—the note to Mary, the wrapping on Naomi’s box, and then Naomi’s note, which Gordon took from her the day she received it. I called Gordon first thing this morning. He admitted they all match.”

  “And they’re still not releasing Andrew?”

  Amber shook her head. She had tried to argue with Gordon, but he’d hung up on her.

  Tate took a sip of his coffee, placed the mug on her desk, and leaned forward with his arms propped on his knees. “Then they have compelling evidence.”

  “It doesn’t mean he’s guilty.”

  “No, but it does mean that his lawyer is going to face a difficult job. Let’s hope he gets someone who is up to the challenge.”

  “I was hoping he wouldn’t need a lawyer, that he’d be sent home this morning.”

  Tate stood, and when she did too, he wrapped his arms around her and sighed when she snuggled into his embrace. “We can pray for that, but we’re also going to keep our eyes and ears open. Maybe we’ll see or hear something that will weaken their case.”

  Forty

  Jesse scowled at the yellowed Formica tabletop as he waited for his brother to be brought into the visitors’ room. The Middlebury police station was small. There was one room for visiting and one table in the room. Two metal chairs with black seats that were not leather finished out the furniture. Three walls in the room were painted a light gray, which served to render the place more depressing. The last wall, the one with the door, was solid windows. The entire room couldn’t have been bigger than ten feet by ten feet.

  He supposed Andrew might be the only prisoner that day, which would explain why he didn’t have to wait long to see him.

  What did the cells look like?

  And how did his brother cope with being locked inside?

  Before he could add more questions to his list, Andrew walked into the room, head held high though his hands were cuffed in front of him.

  The officer sat him at the table, then retreated to wait outside the room. Jesse had already been searched, so there was no chance that he’d sneak anything to his brother, not that he’d know what to sneak someone in jail. To him, that would be the height of foolishness, as if this situation could get any worse.

  “Glad you came to visit me.”

  Jesse stared at him, temporarily unable to speak. He’d never seen his brother in an orange jumpsuit before. He’d seen him in Englisch clothes, the one time he’d visited him in Chicago. This was much worse. The orange material cast a yellow tint to Andrew’s skin, and the fact that it was overalls he was wearing, something an Amish person would never purchase or wear, served to highlight the seriousness of this situation.

  “How are Mamm and Dat?”

  “They’re doing as well as can be expected. They thought it best for me to be the one to come see you. But I didn’t come to talk about Mamm and Dat. I came to tell you about Mary.”

  “Mary?”

  Suddenly Jesse felt angry again. He wanted answers, and he had a feeling Andrew still wasn’t ready to give them.

  “Mary Weaver? Maybe you remember her. Nice lady, never married, works at The Cat’s Meow at the Village. You gave the note she received to Hannah. You know that she was friends with Owen, and now she’s missing!”

  “Slow down, bruder. You’re telling me that Mary is—”

  “She’s gone. No one knows where. Amber talked to her parents, but they say she probably went visiting family. As if Mary would ignore her responsibilities and leave town without telling anyone.”

  “No. Mary would never do that.”

  “How do you know what Mary would or wouldn’t do? Tell me, how is she involved in this?”

  Instead of answering his questions, Andrew sat back and studied the ceiling for a minute. When he finally met Jesse’s gaze again, he said, “Maybe it’s for the better that she’s gone. She’ll probably be safer out of town.”

  “What do you mean? What do you know that you’re not telling me?”

  Andrew raised his hands, still cuffed, and made a keep-your-voice-down gesture. The arrogant teenage look fell away, and in its place Jesse found himself looking into the worried eyes of a man, looking into the eyes of someone he didn’t know.

  “I want you to listen to me. I have a lawyer coming—”

  “A lawyer? How are you going to afford that?”

  “Listen and stop asking questions.”

  “Who is it?”

  Andrew sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, the confident boy Jesse knew so well was back. “Adalyn Landt, a woman whose office is in Shipshe. She’s represented Amish folks before.”

  “I’ve never heard of her.”

  “You’ve never needed her.”

  “And you do now?”

  “Ya. Tomorrow will be the initial hearing. Adalyn will help me through that.”

  “And how will you pay her?”

  “My job will pay her, if I’m found innocent.”

  The clock on the wall ticked, filling the silence between them. Finally Jesse asked, “What job?”

  “That’s not important right now. You go home and tell Mamm and Dat that I’m doing fine and I’ll be home soon.”

  “I won’t lie to them—”

  “It’s not a lie. Have faith, Jesse.” Andrew stood, attracting the attention of the officer who waited outside the door. Cherry Brookstone walke
d into the room to escort Andrew back to his cell.

  “Come back tomorrow morning. Eight o’clock.”

  “I have to be at work for the early shift.”

  “Then ask off. Be here at eight, and I’ll explain everything to you and Adalyn.”

  If Cherry had a reaction to those words, she hid it well. Andrew didn’t look back as she ushered him out.

  The door clicked shut behind them. Jesse was left staring at the Formica. He probably should have left right away, but instead he sat there with his head in his hands, trying to make sense of what Andrew had said.

  Why wouldn’t he tell him what was going on now?

  He knew his brother wasn’t guilty of murder, but he was involved in something. What? And was it dangerous?

  Regardless, he knew he would be back the next morning. First he needed to ask for the shift off. Maybe he could trade with someone. Then he needed to go and speak to Hannah.

  “Mary’s gone.”

  Amber sank into a chair next to the front window in A Simple Blend and accepted the drink Hannah handed her—espresso with whipped cream. A perfect blend, though it did little to soothe her worried heart. She was glad Hannah had stayed at the shop later in the afternoon than she usually did so she could see her there.

  “Gone?”

  “Gone.”

  “You’re positive?”

  “She didn’t show for work today. Not even a phone call explaining why, so I went to her house after Tate stopped by my office. Did I tell you Tate’s home?”

  “Nein.”

  “He is. He came home early.” Amber sipped the hot drink, hoping it would jump-start her brain. “After he left this morning, I drove out and spoke to her parents. She left the funeral early yesterday, telling her parents she wasn’t feeling well.”

  “She told me she wasn’t feeling well too. So she’s still not home? She wasn’t there when we stopped by in the afternoon. Her parents weren’t even home from the funeral yet.”

  “No, she’s not. Last night she didn’t come down for dinner. Her mom went upstairs to check on her and found her room empty.”

  “Empty?” Hannah’s voice rose a notch, causing Seth to look up from the counter where he was restocking sugar, cream, and napkins. “How empty?”