Page 23 of An Evil Heart
I tug out my cell and call Dispatch.
“Hey, Chief.”
“No one here at the residence. Can you get me a number and address for Mast Tiny Homes?” I ask, thinking he might still be at work.
“Call you right back.”
Dropping my cell into my pocket, I backtrack to the flagstone path and look around. That’s when I spot the souped-up Nova behind my Explorer. Uneasy surprise quivers through me when I see the driver’s-side door fly open. A male jumps out, moving fast, pauses to look at my vehicle. He’s tall with an athletic build. Fair-haired. Wearing dark trousers and a work shirt. He’s got his cell phone pressed to his ear, talking to someone, gesturing wildly.
I call out to him. “Hello?”
He startles at the sound of my voice, swings around to face me. “What’sgoing on?” he asks. “What happened?” He drops the cell into his pocket and breaks into a run, coming toward me at a fast clip.
Caution whispers a warning in my ear, reminding me there’s a shooter on the loose. I don’t know this man; I don’t know his intent or frame of mind.
Aware of my radio mike at my lapel, my .38 strapped to my hip, I raise my hand. “Stop right there,” I tell him. “Don’t get any closer, okay?”
His stride falters and he halts. He cocks his head and looks at me quizzically. “Someone just told me…” His voice breaks as if he’s run out of breath. “I just heard Aden Karn was killed.”
I don’t see any weapons on him, but I don’t like the way he’s looking at me. Too intense. Too much emotion. Distressed.
I identify myself. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Wayne Graber,” he says. “I live here.”
The description I have for Graber fits. Twenty-two years old. Fair-haired. Blue-eyed. He’s wearing a Caterpillar cap. Too-long hair sticking out the back and curling at the ends. He’s nice-looking, with a runner’s build. His clothes are dirty as if he spent his day partaking in some form of manual labor.
“You just get off work?” Pulling out my shield, I close the distance between us, cautious, not getting too close.
“What the hell happened to Aden?” he demands. “Is it true?”
“Who told you that?” I ask.
He chokes back a sound of frustration. “His old man called. He could barely speak. Told me Aden was killed this morning. Is it true?”
Most Amish don’t have phones for personal use; theOrdnung,or unwritten rules of the church district, prohibit it unless it’s used for businesspurposes. I happen to know Lester Karn keeps a cell phone beneath the counter at his shop.
“I’m afraid so,” I say. “It happened this morning.”
“Oh my God.” He raises his hand to his forehead, presses his fingers against the bridge of his nose. “For God’s sake. He’sdead? What the hell happened to him?”
“We’re still trying to put all of it together.” I pause. “What’s your relationship to Aden?” I’ve been told the two men are best friends and roommates, but I ask anyway, feeling him out. Always a good idea to confirm hearsay.
“He’s my best friend.” He gestures to the house, looking helpless, lets his hand fall to his side. “We live here. I just saw him this morning.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I tell him.
“Yeah. Shit.” He looks past me toward the house as if expecting his friend to appear and prove all of this is just some perverse joke.
I give him a moment to regain his composure, then motion toward the Nova. “Where are you coming from?”
He looks down at the ground and shakes his head, as if still trying to absorb what he’s been told. “Work. I get off at five. I stopped by the Brass Rail for a beer. Then I get that frickin’ phone call from Lester and I rushed over here thinking it was some kind of mistake.”
The sound of a vehicle pulling into the driveway draws my attention. I look up to see Skid’s cruiser pull up behind the Nova.
“When did you last see Aden?” I ask.
He slants a glance toward the cruiser, then turns his attention back to me. “Like I said. This morning. Before work.” His voice breaks, and he falls silent.
