Brian's Choice Page 5

  Levi finished up with reporting that there was nothing to report, and then he cleared his throat, leaned on his cane, and glanced at Bynum.

  “The reason I’m here, Mr. Walker, is that we’d like to ask you some questions.”

  “Certainly. I’d be happy to help any way I can.” Brian made a move toward the chair behind his desk, but something in Bynum’s posture stopped him.

  “It would be better if we did this down at the station.”

  Brian glanced at Katie, who was looking at the officer in surprise. “All right, but tell me this—am I a suspect in this case? Do I need a lawyer?”

  “Because this is preliminary questioning that won’t be necessary, but of course you have the right to have legal counsel present if you wish.” Bynum glanced around the classroom before turning turned his full attention back to Brian. “If you have nothing to hide, then it would certainly be a waste of your money.”

  On the surface the words made sense, but Brian had been involved with lawyers and courts—plenty of them after the accident in California. He understood all too well how the truth could be twisted, often quite effectively by the person with the most money. Hadn’t his parents done just that to help him avoid a guilty verdict? Yet he had clearly been responsible for what happened that fateful day on Highway 101. It was the certainty of his guilt that had sent him east toward the heartland of America, and ultimately to Oklahoma and his conversion.

  Levi tapped his cane against the schoolhouse floor. “Brian, you know we strive to remain separate and not involve ourselves with Englischers any more than necessary. In this case, I believe your answering Bynum’s questions should be sufficient. No need to involve anyone else unless you feel strongly that you’d like to. In that case, there’s a lawyer I can call who has worked on one or two minor matters for us—”

  “I have nothing to hide.” Brian pulled on his jacket and picked up his bag of grading. “Let’s get this over with.”

  Katie had remained silent through the entire exchange, but now she stepped forward, her arms crossed and a fierce frown adorning her pretty face. “He had nothing to do with Stella’s disappearance. I was here too. I can vouch for him—”

  “I’ll stop by with the bishop if we need your statement,” Bynum assured her. “For now, it would be better if you went on home.”

  Bishop Levi nodded in agreement. “Ya, that’s a gut idea, Katie.”

  What he didn’t say was all too apparent. By the next day Brian might be a guest of the Cody’s Creek Police Department.

  Brian walked out and climbed into Levi’s buggy, and they made their way down the road, following behind Stewart Bynum’s police vehicle. Brian had lived with the Amish long enough to know that by dinnertime every family in their district would have passed on the story of his visit to the police station.

  Some of those who heard would pray for him.

  Some would pity him for this intrusion into his life by outsiders.

  Others would wonder if perhaps the officer was right, that maybe he did know something about Stella’s disappearance.

  They didn’t speak as the buggy made its way down the road. Levi allowed Brian the silence he needed to quiet his spirit and soothe his soul. The sound of the horse and the rhythm of the buggy did just that.

  Until they pulled in front of the station.

  Abruptly Brian’s mind was flooded with images and memories of that other investigation. Painful details he’d managed to push from his mind for more than three years came crashing in and nearly paralyzed him with their intensity. The reckless feel of the Jaguar. The sun glistening off water. Bridgette’s laugh. Metal screeching against metal and sudden intense pain as his arm broke. The Jag rolling. The scream of an ambulance and Bridgette’s moan.

  “It’s going to be all right, Brian.” Levi laid a hand on his arm. “Before we go in, I’d like to pray.”

  Brian nodded, forcing the memories of that other tragic day from his mind. As Levi prayed, Brian allowed the words to flow over him and the Spirit of their Lord to settle him. He wasn’t the man he’d been. He was forgiven and made new, and although his past still had the power to haunt him, he understood that this time he was not guilty.

  Whatever had happened to Stella, he was not to blame.

  Now, if only he could convince the sheriff of his innocence.

  TWELVE

  “It’s unusual for someone to become Amish.”

  Brian didn’t answer that because it didn’t seem to be a question. He was sitting in an “interview room,” though it was as stark as a cell. The only furniture consisted of a scarred metal table and two chairs—one on each side. On the table was a single manila file Bynum hadn’t yet opened. A long window dominated the west wall of the room. He couldn’t see through the glass, but no doubt anyone in the next room could see in.

  No one offered coffee.

  He was feeling less and less like a guest and more like a suspect, which he supposed was what Bynum wanted. Levi was waiting in the front office.

  Brian sat stiffly and stared silently at the officer.

  “I’ve worked here twenty years, and I can’t remember a single time someone from our side has joined the Amish. It just isn’t done.”

  Bynum again allowed the silence to drag out, as if he expected Brian to fill the void with an explanation. Brian was tempted to do just that. He’d always had a natural desire to please other people, and that desire had become stronger since he’d converted to the Amish faith, but he knew answering unasked questions wouldn’t help him in this instance.

  “Maybe your conversion has something to do with the trouble in California.”

  Brian should have guessed they had already run a background check on him, but still he flinched.

  “Want to tell me about that?”

  “Want to tell me how it’s related to this case?”

  “Well, that’s a good question.” Bynum leaned back in his chair, his right hand still resting on top of the folder. “You were with a girl before who ended up permanently crippled, and it looks to me like you got away with it.”

  Still, there was no question, so Brian clenched his jaw and resisted the urge to defend himself.

  “Maybe you thought you could get away with it again. Hurting a girl, that is.”

  “I didn’t get away with it!” His anger ignited, and Brian couldn’t hold the words inside in any longer. He couldn’t sit there and simply endure Bynum’s smug expression.

  “There was a trial?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you weren’t found guilty.”

  “I was not.”

  “I find that strange because you were driving the vehicle that caused the accident. Officers estimated your speed in excess of ninety miles per hour.”

  Brian attempted to swallow past the dryness in his throat. “There was a settlement before the case was handed over to the jury.”

  “So you bought off the complainant.”

  “I was a professor at a university. I didn’t make enough money to buy off anyone.”

  “You were driving a Jaguar. How much does something like that cost? Fifty, sixty thousand?”

  “Closer to a hundred.”

  “So how did you afford it?” Bynum leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table, as if he were genuinely interested in Brian’s financial past.

  “It was a gift from my parents.”

  “Ahh. So your parents are rich.”

  Brian shrugged. “I suppose.”

  “Rich enough to pay for a negotiated settlement. Sweet.”

  Closing his eyes, Brian tried to remember the things he’d learned since joining the Amish—calmness, peace, measured and deliberate responses, trust in God’s will. Honesty.

  “A civil trial was brought by Bridgette’s parents.”

  “No criminal investigation?”

  “Look, Officer Bynum. No drugs or alcohol were involved. Reckless speed? Yes. Fortunately, no one else was hurt, my insurance covered all of the cla
ims, and the district attorney didn’t feel there was enough evidence to pursue a criminal trial.”

  “Or maybe your parents made a nice donation to someone’s campaign fund—say a judge with enough influence to pressure a DA into dropping a case. I’ve seen it happen before, though not here. Not in a place as small as Cody’s Creek.”

  “I couldn’t say. My parents compensated Bridgette—quite handsomely.” He held up a hand to stop Bynum. “Which doesn’t erase what happened, but all of her medical bills were taken care of, in addition to expected lost wages.”

  “Everyone wins.”

  “No. Everyone didn’t win. No one won. Would a jury have given her more than we did? I doubt it, so it was a good settlement for Bridgette, who didn’t want a trial to begin with.” Memories of the last time he’d seen her nagged the corner of his consciousness, but he pushed them away.

  “Did I feel good about that? I did not. Did I want to go to prison for a stupid mistake on a California highway? I did not, though…” He hesitated and pushed on. “Though if I’d been the man I am now, I probably would have chosen prison. It would have been the more honest thing to do.”

  Bynum cocked his head, as if he were considering Brian’s words. Then he stood and said, “Let me get us some coffee.”

  Though Brian knew it wasn’t mere politeness, he was grateful for the break.

  The good sheriff would return, and when he did he would finally open the folder and move on with his questions—the real questions, the ones concerning Stella.

  THIRTEEN

  Katie had rushed home after Brian and the bishop left for the police station—ran, actually—so she was out of breath by the time she hurried up the steps of her sister’s front porch. One of her nephews called to her, but she didn’t slow down to answer. She hurried into the house and found her sister in the kitchen.

  JoAnna was making dinner. When she saw the state Katie was in, she turned down the flame on the gas stove and motioned toward the table.

  “Sit. Let me fetch you a glass of water. You look as if you’ve seen a scarecrow come to life.”

  “They took…Brian. Took…him to the…police station.” Now that she was home, all of her fears crashed in, pressing against her heart and making it difficult to catch her breath.

  “Relax, little schweschder. Drink the water, take a calming breath, and then tell me what happened.” JoAnna always had the ability to remain calm and practical. It had irked Katie many times, but today she was grateful for her sister’s steady ways.

  “Now, from the beginning. What happened?”

  “Levi came by, after school. The sheriff was with him. They took Brian to the station, though it’s plain he had nothing to do with Stella’s disappearance.”

  She waited, afraid to hear her sister’s next words. JoAnna stood and moved back to the stove, stirring the barley soup and checking on the cornbread. “I agree Brian is not to blame for Stella’s disappearance. How could he be? He’s been nothing but above reproach since he joined our community.”

  “That’s what I wanted to tell the officer!” A feeling of heavy gloom fell over Katie. She wanted to put her head down on the table and weep. “He wouldn’t listen to me. Wouldn’t even let me defend Brian.”

  “Do you have any doubt that Levi will do just that?”

  “Well, no, but—”

  “Then you doubt that Gotte will guide Brian’s steps?”

  “Gotte is faithful, yes, but the police may be an entirely different matter.”

  “Most in our community would be happy to vouch for Brian—”

  “Most. One or two always want to believe the worst.”

  “There are some, and yes, I know who you mean—those who are extremely cautious and slow to accept anything different.” JoAnna tapped the spoon against the rim of the pot and set it down on the saucer to the side of the stove. “It’s not only Brian they are suspicious of.”

  “But he didn’t do it.”

  “I believe you.”

  “How can you be smiling when this is so serious?”

  “I was thinking of something Mammi used to say. ‘A dry fact doesn’t stand much of a chance against a juicy rumor.’”

  “If that’s true, then he’s sunk. Are there rumors about Brian? Rumors people are willing to believe?”

  JoAnna shrugged and handed Katie a pot and some snap peas. “Best you stay busy while you worry.”

  “What have you heard, JoAnna? Tell me. I’d rather hear it from you than from the girls in the kitchen at our next church meeting.”

  “Only that Brian is very handsome, very good with the students, and that some of the older girls have a bit of a crush on him.”

  “I suppose that’s true, but he does nothing to encourage them.”

  “And the day Stella disappeared? He was alone with her, ya?”

  “He was.” Katie thought about that afternoon. Had it really been only two days since then? She snapped several peas before continuing. “I offered to stay, but he knew how tired I was and insisted I head home.”

  Silence filled the room. The ticking of the clock and the children playing outside provided a distant reminder that life continued regardless of the pain Katie was personally enduring.

  She said, “He didn’t do anything to her. He couldn’t have. If only people knew how kind he is, how dedicated he is to the students, and how…how proper!”

  “I think you are dealing with two different things, dear Katie.”

  Suddenly she had a childish desire to clap her hands over her ears, but instead she stared into the pot she was holding in her lap.

  “The first is that you don’t want anything bad, anything unfair, to happen to your friend.”

  “Ya, that’s true.”

  “The second is that what you feel for Brian is not merely friendship. If you’re honest, I think you’ll admit that some time ago you fell in love with Brian Walker.”

  FOURTEEN

  Officer Bynum took an inordinate amount of time to return with the coffee. No doubt he hoped the moments alone in the stark room would push Brian toward a confession. Which proved he didn’t truly understand what it meant to be Amish. If there was one thing Brian had learned in the last few years, it was how to wait.

  Finally, Bynum walked into the room with two steaming Styrofoam cups and pushed one across the table to Brian.

  “You moved here three years ago?”

  “Two and a half.”

  “Explain to me how you started in California and ended up in a small town in rural Oklahoma.”

  “Is it relevant to Stella’s disappearance?”

  “It may be.”

  Brian sipped the coffee and winced at the bitter taste. “I wandered for several months. I had a vague idea of making my way east. All I wanted was to get away. From my parents, from what I’d done, even from my job. None of it mattered anymore.”

  “West to east doesn’t necessarily go through Oklahoma.”

  “True. I came east on I-40.”

  “In your car?”

  Brian shook his head. “At that point I didn’t trust myself to ever sit behind the wheel of a vehicle again. I walked and caught rides when I could.”

  “Go on.”

  “I took I-40 through Flagstaff, Albuquerque, Amarillo, and finally Oklahoma City. That’s where…well, you could say that’s where God grabbed hold of me.”

  Bynum made a continue motion with his hand.

  But Brian couldn’t continue. He was suddenly back at the memorial, walking through the Gates of Time, staring at the rows of empty chairs.

  “Have you been to the memorial in Oklahoma City?”

  “For the Murrah Building? I have, in fact. A friend of mine died in that blast.”

  Brian thought of offering his condolences, but it was plain Bynum was only interested in the case. And yet he had asked about the route that brought Brian to Cody’s Creek. That route went directly through the grounds of the museum.

  “I was a teenager when the
bombing occurred. I remember watching it on the news and then later writing about it for a school assignment.” He stared down into his coffee. “Seeing the memorial in person was a completely different experience from studying it through Internet sources. I walked through the twin gates, and it was as if I were walking into a holy place. Do you believe that, Officer Bynum? That any place can be made holy, but that those places bathed with the blood of the innocent…well, it seems God bestows a special blessing on those spots.”

  Bynum didn’t answer. He just continued staring at Brian and waiting.

  “Then I reached the field of empty chairs—”

  “One hundred sixty-eight.”

  “Yes, one for each victim. I suddenly understood how precious a gift life is, and what a fool I’d been wasting mine and those of the people around me. I saw my past like a thing belonging to someone else. I felt…I fully felt the presence of God in a way I can’t explain.”

  Brian sat back and considered Officer Bynum. Was he a religious man? It didn’t really matter. He himself had not been religious before he walked into the memorial, but he’d left a changed person. It suddenly occurred to Brian that he might be enduring this scrutiny so that he could share the grace he had received that day. The thought gave him the courage to press forward with his story.

  “Maybe you don’t believe in such a thing—a spiritual experience, an encounter with the Holy of holies. I didn’t either, but it happened. I suddenly remembered scraps of a song my grandmother used to sing. “Amazing Grace.” What I felt, more than anything else, was God’s love and forgiveness.”

  “Convenient.”

  “I stood staring at those chairs for…for I don’t know how long. Finally, I moved on to the reflecting pool. I stayed there until darkness fell, amazed at how much had happened in a few hours, amazed that God could love a wretch like me.”

  Bynum sat up straight and pierced Brian with a skeptical gaze. “You nearly kill a girl, joyride across the country, end up at a memorial, and then experience a conversion. Is that your story?”

  Brian pushed the coffee away. He didn’t want it. He didn’t need it. He was nearly finished with his testimony and the interview. “I had in my mind to head northeast, maybe go to the Flight 93 National Memorial in Pennsylvania. I didn’t have a particular reason, but I wasn’t sure what else to do. Yes, I’d had a conversion, a holy experience, but what was I to do with it? How was I to live and honor what had happened? I headed northeast, and the route took me through Tulsa. From there I caught a ride with an old farmer headed east.”