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“I know. I've been thinking about that.” Actually, she'd been weighing the pros and cons of forgiving him already.

But not because she was Amish, and that it was the right thing to do. But she was considering forgiving him because she'd fallen in love with him.

And she knew in her heart that he'd told her the truth . . . that Perry had gotten injured in an accident. And that someone else had put Perry into the well and left him to die.

But was that wrong? Was that disloyal to her brother and her parents? If Jacob had gotten help, would her brother still be alive?

“What is going to happen now?” Frannie asked.

“I don't know. After I talked with Mose and Luke, I walked out to you. Maybe Jacob's still in the sheriff's office.”

Beth pointed to Frannie's cell phone. “Can you find out what's going on, Frannie? I bet since Luke loves you, he'd tell you everything.”

She shook her head. “I'm afraid not. Luke wouldn't tell me if I asked, and I don't want to ask him. I don't want to put him in that position. I need to trust him to do his job . . . and he needs to be able to trust me to give him space.”

“I think Jacob's parents will get a lawyer. And if they do, he might get out on bail,” Lydia said.

When the other girls looked at her surprise, she shrugged. “Before Walker moved to his grandparents, we spent quite a few evenings watching
Law and Order
at his house. His parents love the show.”

Deborah couldn't help it, she giggled. So did Beth.

Frannie's face split into a wide grin. “You've been watching crime shows with his parents?”

“Only once or twice,” she said as a faint blush colored her cheeks. “That show was good. Plus it's helping tonight, yes? I'm the only one who has a clue about what to expect.”

Feeling much better now that everything was out in the open, Deborah said, “Would you please slice me a thick piece of cake, Frannie? I think chocolate cake is going to help me this evening.”

“Of course, Deborah.” With a wink, she said, “Then I know just what we should talk about.”

“And what is that?”

“What else Lydia and Walker have been doing when they've been together.”

“Definitely not!” Lydia exclaimed, her cheeks bright red.

“I'm talking about plowing his grandfather's field. You two have been leading a very busy life, I think.”

In answer, Lydia held out her hand. “Give me a piece of cake, too, Beth. If we're going to talk about so much, I'm going to need to be fortified.”

Picking up the knife again, Frannie grinned. “I knew this cake was an excellent idea.”

Chapter 18

“I used to blame Perry whenever I got in trouble. It wasn't fair, of course. He only led me, I followed. Now that he's gone, I've got no one to blame but myself.”

J
ACOB
S
CHROCK

S
itting alone in the interrogation room, Jacob realized that he'd never sincerely given thanks for his parents or for their store. He should've, he knew that. Schrock's Variety Store was a part of who he was.

It was his legacy.

His earliest memory was sitting on a counter, his father holding him steady while a pair of customers chatted with them both.

When he was older, he used to work beside his mother, folding bags for people who checked out, or straightening a shelf. Often, he'd been given a job like holding a kitten or sitting with some customers who had come inside for ice cream in the summer.

Through the years, there had always been something eventful going on. When he was younger, Jacob, like his father, had fed off the chaos. Only when he was older did he realize that there were better, smoother ways to run the market. Little by little, he implemented his ideas. Now his father relied on him to manage the deliveries and inventory. Actually, he organized most everything, except for his father's penchant for selling animals.

Through it all, Jacob had always known that his father was proud of him. For hours, his father had shown him off at the store, or had taken him on buying trips. Always his father had treated him with patience. Patience with his endless questions and mistakes.

And he'd definitely made his share of mistakes lately. He'd resented his job and had begun to take his parents' unwavering love for granted. He'd let his anger with Perry stew instead of forgiving him and letting it go.

And of course, he'd fought with Perry, injured him . . . and then lied to everyone.

Just an hour ago, he'd been shocked when Mose set his old letter to Perry on the table. He'd forgotten he'd even written it, and had been mortified when he read the words again.

They sounded angry and malicious. Petty. No wonder Mose had looked at him like he was a horrible person.

After talking with Mose, Jacob realized he certainly wasn't the only person to be keeping secrets. He was very surprised to discover that Deborah had seen that note and had only brought it to Luke and Mose reluctantly.

But nothing had floored him as much as the news that she'd had the note for weeks. And that she'd actually hidden it from the police in order to protect him.

Even when he'd been so rude to her, she had wanted to believe the best in him. It was becoming more and more obvious that he had a lot to learn about friendship and loyalty.

That was why he wasn't upset with her for ultimately bringing the note to the authorities. She wanted to believe in Jacob, but she had loved her brother. It made sense that, now that he'd revealed that he'd been keeping secrets from her, she would share her secrets, too.

Thank goodness Mose didn't act like the letter was proof that Jacob had killed Perry. All Mose had said was that it proved that Jacob had been angry.

And that was true.

But the thing he was sorriest about was his lack of prayer. He'd never sat with God and asked him for guidance. Instead of praying about his concerns, he'd locked them up inside himself, trying in vain to ignore the hurts.

He was paying for that now. Sitting in the back room of the sheriff's office, he'd never felt more alone. But he was beginning to realize, surely if anyone could have the patience for him, it would be God?

Leaning forward, he braced his elbows on the small table. He closed his eyes and forced himself to relax, and then, little by little, he had a talk with the Lord.

Only then could he sleep.

T
hree hours after they'd taken Jacob Schrock into custody, his parents showed up with a lawyer. After talking briefly with the man, Mose released Jacob into his lawyer's care.

They couldn't hold him anyway; there were still too many inconsistencies in Jacob's story for them to actually charge him with anything. Though he felt he had gotten Jacob's whole story, Luke felt that they still were missing something important. Luke knew there was one more part to the story of Perry's death. He just wasn't positive about who he suspected had shown up after Jacob had left.

As he and Mose stood at the front window and watched the lawyer drive the Schrocks away, Luke stuffed his hands into his back pockets.

“What do you think?” he asked Mose.

“I think I feel like a fool,” Mose said baldly.

“Why's that?”

“I feel like we've interviewed everyone who could have anything to do with Perry's death, that we've scoured the area, and that I've written over a hundred pages of detailed notes. But even after doing all that?”—Mose folded his arms over his chest—“This case still ain't closed.”

Luke forced himself to bring up his fear. “I don't think Jacob stuffed Perry's body down that well, Mose. I don't think he was the last person to see Perry that evening.”

“I agree with you.” His scowl darkened. “And that, of course, makes me even more frustrated with myself.”

“What does the D.A. say?”

“About what you'd imagine. We don't have any actual evidence to prove that Jacob killed Perry. Only a whole lot of stories, which won't make a difference on the stand. He also pointed out the levels of methamphetamine the labs discovered in his body. It could've been a lethal amount. Luke, Perry could have overdosed.” Mose picked up a paper clip. “I feel like an idiot, Luke. I'm a smart man, and a good sheriff. But for the life of me, I can't seem to get either the evidence or the confession I need to close this case.”

Mose's venting wasn't a surprise; Luke felt the same way. But his frustration didn't make their task any easier. “Any ideas about who we should talk to next?”

“I was thinking I'd go talk to the Millers, but they've said time and again that they saw nothing.”

“I think we've missed something, Mose, and I think it has something to do with Perry's relationship with his friends. I'm going to go through my notes again.”

“I'll do it, too. And I'm going to reread our notes about Jacob. I must have missed something. Pull up a chair, Luke. I'll go brew some coffee. I have a feeling we're going to be up late.”

For a brief moment, Luke let himself think of Frannie. He knew she was most likely wondering how he was doing . . . and how her friend Jacob was doing.

Because Luke didn't want to tell her anything about the case, he pushed back the urge to give her a call. No, it would be better to keep quiet and stay with Mose.

They were so close, he could feel it. The wrong thing to do now would be to give up. He needed to hold steady and power through. Only then would he and Mose succeed in putting this case to rest. He just needed to remember that.

S
omething wasn't right, Jacob knew that with every fiber in his being. Every time he looked at his father, the man looked wary. Almost guilty.

For the life of him, Jacob couldn't understand it. What did his dad feel guilty about? And why wasn't he yelling at him nonstop, or at the very least offering bits of wisdom and advice?

Instead, he only kept reassuring Jacob that he believed in him. That he knew Jacob hadn't meant to hurt Perry. That he certainly knew Jacob hadn't thrown Perry into an abandoned well.

That they would get through this difficult time together.

After his lawyer, Mr. Meyer, had arrived at the police station, the four of them drove back to their house. His father had gone so far as to close the store early so that they could discuss Jacob's case at length together.

Outside, the skies darkened. Jacob's
mamm
turned on a lantern and made a fresh pot of coffee on the stove, then fussed in the kitchen, popping out to join them for a few minutes at a time before returning to her haven.

Jacob and his
daed
joined the lawyer in the living room. If Mr. Meyer was uncomfortable, sitting in his dark suit in the warm house, he didn't act like it. Instead, the middle-aged man answered every question of his father's easily, even when the questions were repeated several times. Exhausted and nervous, Jacob elected to stay silent most of the time. He knew that he'd told the detectives everything he knew. He had no secrets left.

But his father, on the other hand, seemed far more uneasy. It almost seemed like there was something on the tip of his father's tongue, some secret he was trying hard not to divulge.

And Jacob couldn't help but fixate on it.

As the lawyer continued to explain terms like involuntary manslaughter and criminal negligence, Jacob leaned back in his chair and wondered what his father was hiding.

A look to his right revealed his mother hovering near the entrance to the kitchen. She, too, seemed perturbed and nervous.

Of course she had to be worried about what was going to happen to him . . . but was that all that was bothering her? Jacob just wasn't sure.

“Did you have any questions, Jacob?”

With a start, Jacob turned to the lawyer. “I'm sorry, no.”

His father cleared his throat. “Jacob, was your mind wandering? You should be paying attention! This is important, son. I'm sure you have much to ask Mr. Meyer.”

“I realize it's important, father. However, at the moment I do not have any questions.”

“Do you have access to a phone?” Mr. Meyer asked.

“We have a phone shanty down the road,” his mother said.

“And I have a cell phone,” Jacob admitted.

Mr. Meyer looked relieved about that. “Please give me your cell phone number, Jacob. I think it would be best if we could stay in contact over the next forty-eight hours. I wouldn't be surprised if you heard from Sheriff Kramer sooner than later.”

Thankful he had memorized the number, Jacob wrote down his cell phone number, and took one of the lawyer's cards, too. He sat back down to watch his parents escort Mr. Meyer to the door.

Thinking back, Jacob recalled when he was a small child, thinking that the worst thing that could happen to him would be not to be able to play basketball with his friends on Saturdays.

Then the worst thing he could imagine was working too much, never having a day off.

Then, of course, the worst thing he could imagine had had to do with Perry. Oh, he'd been so worried that Perry was going to always disturb his perfect life!

Now Jacob realized he'd been hopelessly naïve. There was a very good chance that soon he would be forced to leave everything he'd known and loved . . . all for a lapse in judgment.

And because the real guilty party wasn't going to come forward.

Jacob didn't blame him. After all, the need for self-preservation was a powerful thing.

Chapter 19

“Perry and I used to argue about who did the most chores. Now that I seem to do them all, I wonder why it used to matter so much.”

D
EBORAH
B
ORNTRAGER

W
hen Deborah walked down the stairs to greet the other women in the inn's kitchen, Frannie bustled over. “Do you feel any better this morning?”

They'd talked late into the night . . . and for the first time in weeks, Deborah had gone to sleep the moment her head hit the pillow. Obviously, being around her friends had been good for her soul.

But now, in the light of early morning, Deborah realized that nothing had really changed. “I slept well, and I'm glad of that. But I have to admit that I'm still awfully worried about Jacob. What if he spent the night in jail?”

Frannie set down the bowl of pancake batter she'd been beating. “He didn't. Luke told me that when I called him this morning.”

“I'm so relieved.”

“You should go see him,” Lydia piped up. “It's not a good idea to sit and stew.”

After getting herself a cup of coffee, Deborah sat down, “Maybe I will go see him. I've got to go to work anyway. Do you think his parents will let me talk to him during my lunch?”

“Oh, you are so practical,” Beth chided. “Work hardly matters at a time like this. It's people we care about who matter.”

“I would agree, except that I feel like I should be at the store as much as I can—with Walker quitting, and Mr. and Mrs. Schrock now busy with Jacob's problems. Someone needs to be there.”

“Deborah, you are too thoughtful,” Lydia said as she joined them. “Do you want some help at the store? I could ask my parents to let me help you today. My brother can take care of things at the nursery.”

“Thank you, but I don't think that's a good idea.” Deborah would have loved to lean on her friends, but she knew it would be wrong to start asking her friends to help her work.

Lydia shrugged. “If you change your mind, let me know.”

“And if you want our company again, you should call us,” Frannie said as she carried out a plate of pancakes sprinkled with fresh blueberries to the kitchen table. “Getting together last night was fun. Now, all of you, grab some forks and eat the pancakes while they're hot.”

Against her will, Deborah smiled. Last night had been fun, especially eating Frannie's chocolate cake. “I was stuffed last night, but I bet I'll be able to eat a couple of these.”

“And you'll call if you need me?” Lydia asked.

“I promise, I will.”

An hour later, she entered Schrock's Variety. The silence that greeted her was almost suffocating. “Hello?” she called out.

The back door opened, and Mrs. Schrock stepped out, looking exhausted. “Deborah, you did, indeed, come to work! I wasn't sure if you would.”

“I still have a job, don't I?”

“Of course you do . . . but with everything that's been happening with Jacob, I wasn't sure if you would want to continue being around us.”

“Of course I want to still work here.” She ached to say so much more. Ached to tell Mrs. Schrock that she believed in Jacob, that she knew he wasn't capable of murdering Perry. But this wasn't the time or the place.

Instead, she focused on her job. “What would you like me to do today?”

Wearily, the lady looked at the two kittens curled up together in their cage. “I think the kittens need their cage cleaned. And then, of course, I'll need you to help with any customers that come in.”

“I can do that.”

“Oh, bless you, Deborah.” All at once, she enfolded Deborah in her arms and squeezed her tight. “You are our angel. What would we do without you?” Before Deborah could respond, Mrs. Schrock hurriedly left the main room.

Staring at the kittens, Deborah thought about getting right to work on their cage, but a sharp hiss from one kept her away. Feeling somewhat at a loss, she got out a dust rag and wiped down the counter, walked around to the front of the store and straightened some of the brochures and maps of the area that had fallen down.

Then stared at her purse that she'd left sitting by the cash registrar. Her cell phone was in it. Did she dare call Jacob, just to see how he was?

It was probably a very bad idea.

Walking over, she spent a few minutes organizing a few bricks of cheddar cheese in the dairy case, keeping an ear ready for customers. But none came.

A few minutes later, Mrs. Schrock called out. “I'm going back to the house, Deborah.”

“I'll be fine,” she replied.

Still the store remained empty, and still she couldn't help but wonder how Jacob was doing.

Giving into temptation, she strode to the counter, plucked the phone from her purse, and quickly dialed.

Jacob answered on the first ring. “Deborah, what is wrong? Are you all right?”

“I am. I . . . I was worried about you.”

“So you're still talking to me?”

“I have questions, but I do believe you, Jacob.” Softening her tone, she said, “I know you didn't kill my brother. Are you all right? How awful was it, being at the sheriff's office?”

“Please don't worry. I am fine. My lawyer says there's nothing to do now but wait. I . . . I haven't been arrested. Yet.”

She felt dizzy. Walking to the back of the store, she sat in one of the rockers for sale, no longer caring what people would think if they saw her talking on the phone. “Jacob, what are we going to do?”

“We?” He laughed dryly. “Deborah, there's no ‘we.' I'm in big trouble. You are not.”

“Tell me what happened, Jacob.”

“I'd rather I told you in person. Could . . . could you bear to see me?”

This was a completely different Jacob than she'd ever known. Always he'd been the assured one, she'd been the hesitant follower. Now, though, it seemed like it was her turn to be the strong half of their relationship.

“I would like to see you. I'd like to hear what happened face-to-face.” She paused. “Do you want me to come over later?”

“I don't think that's a good idea. The lawyer asked me to lay low right now. And . . . and I think that's best.” After a moment, he said, “How about I go to your house tonight? Or do you think your parents will be upset if I show up?”

She didn't even know if her parents had heard the news about Jacob yet. But if they had, she knew they wouldn't be in any condition to talk to him.

“I don't think that would work, either.”

“I figured as much.” He cleared his throat. “How about I come up to the store, then? That's a fairly neutral place.”

“I think that sounds like the best choice.”

“I'll leave in a few minutes. I'll see you then.”

After she hung up, she hurried back to her purse and slipped the phone back inside. As she did so, she steadied herself against the counter.

The only way to deal with it was to keep busy. And that meant that she could no longer ignore the chore Mrs. Schrock asked her to do.

With a sigh, she eyed the cage of kittens in the corner. It was time to tackle the cats. “Kittens, try to be nice, now. Remember, I am only trying to help.”

In reply, one of them stood up and bared its teeth.

J
acob hadn't known what to expect when he slipped into the back of the store and saw Deborah for the first time. Would she be in tears? Angry at him? Or, was she going to be ready to talk?

Whatever her mood, he was prepared to accept it.

Well, except for hearing her squeals. “Deb, what's wrong?”

“Get over here quick,” Deborah called out. “These kittens are tearing up the store something awful.”

For the first time in twenty-four hours, he laughed. “Deborah, you've got a scratch on your cheek and an empty cage. Where are the cats?”

“On the loose.” With a moan, she halfheartedly pointed to the cage. “Your
mamm
asked if I could clean the cage. But they didn't take kindly to it, I'm afraid.”

“Any idea where they could be?”

“I heard them meowing a few moments ago over by the baskets.” With a wince, she added, “I fear they're systematically tearing up all the merchandise.”

“I fear you're right. Come on, follow me and get ready to grab a kitten.” When she followed him around the corner, Jacob glanced her way and smiled. “I can't say that I'm glad you lost the cats, but I have to admit that it's nice to be doing something so normal.”

“If you're saying tracking naughty kittens is ‘normal,' that pretty much sums up the way of things,” she teased. “This store has had more animals for sale than seems possible.”

“It's a habit of my father's, I fear. He's always had a soft spot for animals.” He frowned. “For anything in need, actually.”

“I've noticed that.”

“Yes. I, uh, imagine you have.” He glanced her way again, and felt his mouth go dry. There was so much between them, so many words said, and so many words left unsaid. Years' worth, really.

How did a couple ever overcome such differences?

For that matter, how could a woman ever forget the circumstances of her brother's death?

Looking uncomfortable all over again, she spied a kitten, swooped down, and picked it up. After a few irritated meows and one halfhearted swipe, it settled in against her.

Deborah beamed. “Success!”

As he'd suspected, the other kitten appeared when its littermate was picked up. It sat on the ground, meowing franticly, as if it were worried it was about to be left behind.

Jacob quickly picked up the other kitten, but had to hold it away from his chest as it squirmed and scratched. “Yours is far happier than mine, I fear.”

Once both kittens were safely contained, he braced his hands on the counter and began. “Deborah, I should tell you that I never intended to harm your brother.” He shook his head. “For a while there, it felt as if the Devil had gotten ahold of me. I was so angry at Perry, so angry that I could hardly think about anything else.” Glancing at her sideways, he said, “Have you ever felt that way?”

“No. I've been upset with people, and upset by a person's actions, but never like you are describing.”

“I hope you never feel anger like I did.” He pursed his lips before continuing. “Because I'm an only child, and because we don't have extended family here, I've always felt it was the three of us against the world. When I saw how Perry was continually hurting my family, disregarding all my
daed
has tried to build with this store, I couldn't see beyond that.”

“I know you were upset . . .”

“I knew the feelings were wrong. I knew my thoughts weren't Christian. I knew I needed to turn the other cheek. So I kept everything inside . . . I pretended I was okay.”

“But you weren't?”

“No. I wasn't. I wasn't even close to being okay. Just before Christmas, I wrote him that note you found.”

“He kept it. It must have meant something to him.”

“I don't know if it did or not. All I know was that my anger had consumed me.” He turned her way, afraid she could see how vulnerable he felt. “Everything came to a head on the night you and Perry came by the store on December thirtieth.”

“After Christmas, Perry was really withdrawn,” she said. “I think he finally realized that he had made some very bad acquaintances, with some really dangerous men. He never said anything to me, but I do know that he had a lot of regrets, and that he was afraid.”

After a moment's pause, Deborah continued. “That day was the first day we'd talked in ages. It felt like I had just gotten my brother back from a very long trip.”

“I didn't know any of that when you two showed up,” he admitted. “All I felt was that Perry had come by my family's store again, with the intent of doing something illegal. Or, at the very least, to make trouble.”

“So you yelled at him.”

He winced. “I did. You know what happened next . . .”

Deborah nodded, feeling a chill run down her spine. It was all so clear in her mind, it could have happened yesterday. “Frannie and Beth invited me to join you. And you made sure Perry stayed away.” She remembered feeling so torn. She'd ached to be included. After all, none of Perry's actions had been her doing.

Jacob nodded. “Yep. I made sure he stayed away. And then, the next day I saw Frannie crying. She told me that she and Perry had been arguing.” He swallowed. “Her sleeve had ripped . . .”

“But that was the next day. Why did us coming by upset you so much?”

“Now, it seems hard for me to explain. But that day, I felt like he was never going to listen to any of us. He wasn't going to change. He was never going to leave us alone. And Frannie . . .” Jacob reached out to her, looked like he wanted to touch her, but dropped his hand. “Deb, I've never had any romantic feelings for Frannie . . . but I do think she's just about the nicest person I know. I hated that he'd made her upset.”

Frannie did have that way about her. “Did she confide in you? Is that why you went to go see Perry?”

Raising his chin, Jacob looked beyond her. “She was crying, and admitted that she'd been with Perry at the Millers' old well.” His eyes bleak, he said, “All this time, I felt like no one had really stood up to him. So I decided to go find Perry and do my best to convince him to stay away from all of us.”

Deborah was trying to see Jacob's side of the story. But she couldn't refrain from speaking her mind. “Jacob, that wasn't your place. Not one of us had asked you to be our savior.”

“I know. But that evening I didn't care.” He blinked. “I'm sorry, Deborah. I wish I could tell you that I was a better person, but I'm not. I made mistakes. Terrible ones.” He turned away then, walking to the other side of the counter.