Suspendered Sentence (An Amish Mystery) (28 page)

“I may still have to live with that certainty, mind you, but at least now I don’t have to keep believing it was my own father who did it.”

Chapter 27

S
o many evenings back when Claire used to watch Esther turn and head off in the direction of Amish country at the end of a long workday, she wished she could go, too. It wasn’t that she didn’t love living at the inn, because she did. The guests were always interesting, the food unbelievable, and Aunt Diane was, well,
Aunt Diane
. But when it came to pure tranquility, the western side of Heavenly had it over its eastern counterpart in spades.

On the English side of town, the end of the day meant more cars on the road as people traveled home from their jobs during the week, and to and from whatever sporting event or outing claimed their weekends. Inside their homes, television programs came on, home computers whirred to life, and phone calls were returned.

On the Amish side of town, the end of the day meant quiet fields and rare buggy sightings. Inside their homes, families gathered around the dinner table to eat, share tidbits from their day, and listen to stories from the Bible as dusk enveloped their homes in a blanket of peace.

It was a distinction that was hard not to envy at times. Yet tonight, as Annie waved good-bye and turned west to her east, Claire was glad not to follow.

All afternoon, she’d found herself thinking about Miriam and Leroy and the way their lives would surely change once they came clean about their secret to more than just the police. She wondered whether they would be shunned by their brethren during the next church service. She wondered if they would lose friends they’d had their whole lives. And she wondered if trust with their previously unknowing spouses would be irrevocably broken.

She tried not to think of Leroy and Eva’s children and the impact such tension would undoubtedly have on their sweet, innocent smiles. She tried not to think of the new baby whose arrival into the world would be forever linked to the unveiling of a secret that never should have been kept and a family who’d been allowed to hope for a reunion that would never transpire.

With one last glance in Annie’s direction, Claire crossed the street and began walking, her feet well versed in the route that would have her arriving home in just enough time to help her aunt with any last-minute dinner preparations. She knew, from the menu that had been placed on the table at the bottom of the stairs that morning, that pot roast and noodles was the dinner of the day. A childhood favorite of hers, Claire couldn’t wait to get home in time to do a little behind-the-scenes sampling before the platters were brought out to the guests.

She glanced in the front window of the Heavenly Police Department as she passed and wondered what was going on inside. Had Jakob finished interviewing Mike? Would Mike face charges for abuse of a corpse, as Jakob had mused? And had Jakob been able to steal away a little time to look into the details surrounding the tragic death of his once crush and Ben’s late wife?

She continued walking, her gait slowing as she reached the building being utilized as Michael O’Neil’s campaign headquarters. This time, the posters that had covered nearly every square inch of window space only four days earlier were gone, their absence giving passersby a ringside seat to a pile of tables that had been dismantled and stacked in a far corner of the room. Next to the tables was a stack of boxes Claire recognized as once housing campaign buttons and pamphlets.

“You look as blindsided as the rest of us.”

Startled, she turned to find a familiar face eyeing her from the alleyway next to the campaign headquarters. “Oh. Hi.
Tim
, right?”

The twenty-year-old nodded across the box he was holding, his face void of the smile he’d sported the first time they met. “And you’re Claire, right?”

“Good memory.” She hooked her thumb in the direction of the building. “What’s going on in there? The election is still a month away.”

“The election might still be a month away, but our candidate is done. From this race or any other race.”

Not sure how to play the situation, she opted for surprise in the hopes she’d net something of interest. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Late last night, when most of the volunteers had already gone home, Mike and his dad came in to tell those of us who still remained that it was over.”

“Did they say why?”

“Mr. O’Neil didn’t want to give any details. He just wanted to thank us for our time and send us on our way. But Mike was having none of that. He sat us down and told us that he’d likely be going to jail for a while . . . for worrying about his own neck for far too long. He didn’t get into any real specifics, but when a person is talking jail time, they must have done
something
, you know?”

Sadly, she did know.

And so did Zebediah and Waneta Lehman.

“I know how disappointing this must be, especially in light of how much time you obviously put in on his campaign.”

Tim shrugged. “It’s like my dad said when I got home last night: ‘Welcome to politics . . . you’d better get used to it.’” He repositioned the box in his arms and used his chin to gesture toward the car parked just on the other side of Claire. “So maybe I’ll see you around on a different campaign sometime.”

“Yeah, maybe you will.” She continued toward the inn, her own shoulders beginning to droop with a disappointment she couldn’t quite isolate. Sure, she’d always been sensitive to the plight of others, but Mike had committed a crime. The fact that nineteen years had passed didn’t make it okay. Especially when his nearly two-decade-long silence only made things harder on Sadie’s loved ones in the end.

And if that same underlying secret led someone to take Elizabeth Miller’s life five years later . . .

She stopped midstep and groaned. Off and on, throughout the afternoon, she’d revisited her conversation with the disgraced candidate. To believe, for fourteen years, that his father had committed murder to protect
him
had to have been awful. Yet, after hearing about the great lengths to which the elder O’Neil had always gone in order to protect his son’s image, she could understand why Mike had been worried.

Mumbling under her breath, she continued walking, her thoughts ricocheting between Jakob and Michael, Leroy and Eva, Miriam and Jeremiah, and finally, Howard and Elizabeth . . .

If Elizabeth
had
been murdered as Howard suggested, the only reason that made any sense was to keep her from telling the truth. And since her journal gave them every reason to believe she was heading to Zebediah and Waneta’s home to do just that, the only real suspects that still remained were Leroy Beiler and Miriam Hochstetler, now Stoltzfus.

To murder someone simply to keep them from exposing a secret meant the culprit had to feel as if the fallout from their secret would be tremendous. If they didn’t, why would they risk being caught?

Because they knew her murder could be passed off as an accident.

Hence, the hunting connection . . .

But even as she found herself considering both Leroy and Miriam for a murder no one had any reason to believe was a murder, she found herself hitting on the same repetitive conclusion with each suspect.

Why kill?

“Why, indeed?” she mumbled just before the answer livened her tone along with her steps. “Because they still thought they’d committed a crime the first time. Against Sadie . . .”

A vibration against her hip made her jump and she reached into her jacket pocket to retrieve her phone. A quick check of the caller ID screen led her to a nearby park bench and a break she hadn’t realized she needed.

“Hi, Jakob.”

“Did I catch you at the shop? Or the inn?”

She turned her head to the left to survey the road she’d already traveled, and then to the right to take note of what was still left before she finally leaned back against the bench. “I’d say you caught me just shy of midway.”

“Pavement?”

“Nope. The park benches near the end of the cobblestones.”

“Okay, I know where you are.” A funny sound on the other end of the phone made her guess he was sitting at his desk, head tilted against his own seat back. “So, if I wasn’t nose-deep in reports right now, I might have been able to see you as you walked by the station about two minutes ago?”

“More like ten or twelve. I got sidetracked by one of Mike O’Neil’s former campaign folks along the way. He was carrying a box out to his car.”

“I’m not surprised. Mike came in all on his own just before noon. His story matches up with everything we’ve heard from Miriam and Leroy.” A squeak in the background suggested he was changing positions. “And it doesn’t look like he’s going to face any jail time, either.”

She tightened her grip on her phone as she, too, shifted positions. “Wait a minute. I thought you said he committed a misdemeanor of the second degree when he buried Sadie the way he did.”

“And he did. Nineteen years ago. But according to the prosecuting attorney, he was free and clear of that charge seventeen years ago.”

She heard the frustration in his voice and knew it matched her own feelings at that moment. “But no one knew what he did seventeen years ago!”

“Apparently, that doesn’t matter. Statute of limitations in Pennsylvania starts at the moment the crime is committed. Only certain extenuating circumstances have the ability to change that, and none of those exist in this case.”

“Wow.”

“I know. But I still stand by what I said earlier,” Jakob said. “The hell these three have lived with the past nineteen years is at least
some
punishment. And that’s before the backlash from their family and friends kicks in.”

“Somehow, that doesn’t really seem like enough, does it?” When he said nothing, she continued on. “Annie came back today. I’m becoming very fond of that young girl.”

When there was still no response, she pulled the phone from her cheek and checked the connection.

“Jakob? Are you still there?”

“Uh . . . yeah . . . can you give me a second? One of my coworkers is in my doorway . . .”

“Sure.” She glanced back down the sidewalk toward Mike’s former campaign building and watched as Tim made yet another trip out to his car. This time, he carried three boxes and was followed by a box-holding helper.

“Okay, so that was my coworker, Doug. He stopped by to let me know there is no file on Elizabeth’s death.”

She sucked in a breath. “You took what I said
seriously
?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re a smart woman with great instincts. You’ve more than proven that a time or two over the past seven or so months I’ve known you.”

She didn’t know what to say so she simply stayed silent. Waiting.

“But there’s no file, no record of her death in the station.”

“Why?” she asked, stunned.

“I don’t know. But I do know some things from Ben. Like the fact that it happened on December fifth, which is important.”

“Oh?”

“Hunting is legal in this county from December second until December fourteenth. She was also struck and killed on the outer edges of a piece of land widely known to be used for hunting on the Amish side of town.”

“I’m surprised to learn the Amish hunt at all. It doesn’t sound like something they’d condone.”

“The Amish believe in nonresistance, which prevents them from using force against another human being. That’s why they’re so against what I do. But just because they won’t serve in the military or on a police force doesn’t mean they’re shy about using firearms when it comes to putting food on the family’s table.”

Claire lifted her left shoulder in an effort to block the ever-decreasing evening temperatures from her exposed ear as she continued to concentrate on everything Jakob was saying. “Do
all
Amish men hunt?”

“No. And not all of them set aside a portion of their land specifically for hunting, either. In fact, Josiah is the only one I can think of that still does.”

She pushed off the bench and continued east, Jakob’s voice just as good of a companion for walking purposes as it was for sitting. “I imagine tonight will be another paperwork kind of night, huh?”

“Probably. But I’ll set it aside for a while to speak to Ben when he gets here.”

“You asked Ben to stop by the station?”

“I did. I want to get his read on this notion of Elizabeth’s death being linked to her intentions that day.”

She shivered harder than the early-evening temperatures called for. “Uh, Jakob? Do you really think that’s wise? I mean, it’s hard enough to think you lost your spouse in such a tragic way as he’s believed these past fourteen years. But to have someone suggest it wasn’t an accident after all this time seems a bit harsh.”

“Claire, if I was Ben and someone suspected something like this about
you
, I’d want to know.”

Her feet transitioned to pavement at the same time his words sank in. “Jakob, I’m not your wife. There’s no way you can compare the two.”

“It doesn’t mean I can’t imagine myself in his shoes, with you as the woman I lost.”