Page 48 of An Evil Heart
Something there…
I keep fishing. “Were any of the men at the gas station ever hostile to Aden?” I ask. “Did they tease him? About his relationship with you?”
“If any of them had done anything improper, Aden would have stood up to them,” she says emphatically. “He was brave that way. Would have stood up for me.”
“Did he ever have to do that?” I’m not exactly sure where I’m taking this. But I want her to keep talking, so I can get a handle on the relationship dynamics. Between her and Aden—but especially with Vernon Fisher and the other players.
“No.” But her expression is a study of mixed messages. “All those men. Such a crude bunch. Playing with that gross doll. The fake woman, you know. Talking about it as if it was a real girl. I didn’t like it.”
I study her face, her expression, try to read between the lines. “How did Aden feel about all of that?”
“He didn’t like their antics one bit. He was good that way. Good to me. He was always good, you see. Always.”
“Why didn’t you tell him you didn’t like being there?”
Emily stands abruptly, then looks around as if she hadn’t intended to and isn’t sure what to do next. “I don’t think I want to talk about this anymore,” she whispers.
I stand, too. “I appreciate your opening up to me.”
Before I even finish the sentence, she turns away and runs to the house.
CHAPTER 13
There is an incongruity inherent in being a cop and being formerly Amish. Those two worlds are incompatible and clash in a fundamental and profound way. One repels the other and there is no reconciliation. There’s no fitting them together no matter how hard you try to pound the pieces into place.
The divergence of those two worlds is a beast that tracks me as I pull into the long gravel lane of my brother’s farm. With a homicide investigation spooling and a killer on the loose, the last thing I want to deal with—despite its importance—is my wedding. For weeks, Tomasetti and I have waffled between having our wedding at our own farm and having it on my brother’s farm, the place where I grew up. Today, we’re meeting with Jacob and my sister-in-law, Irene, to make the final decision.
The bad news is, I’m an hour late. I’m frazzled because I’ve been running full bore since fiveA.M.and there simply aren’t enough hours in the day. My brother and Tomasetti have only met a handful of times.While their interaction wasn’t contentious, it was tense and kept me on edge. Both men have strong personalities, deep-seated convictions, and no qualms about speaking their minds. The notion of them spending an entire hour together without my being there to referee fills me with a low-grade anxiety.
I barely notice the apple orchard as I zip up the lane or the golden spires of pampas grass as I slide to a stop beside an old manure spreader. Tomasetti’s Tahoe is nowhere in sight. I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or relieved that he’s already gone. Then I’m out the door, and I’m jogging to the house when I hear my someone call out my name.
I glance over to see Irene standing at the clothesline, a wicker basket propped on her hip. “You’re looking for the men?”
“Sorry I’m late.” Trying not to look as frayed as I feel, I start toward her. “I got tied up with the investigation.”
She looks at me from beneath her lashes. “I think they got it worked out.”
“I didn’t see any blood when I pulled up, so…” I tack on a smile, but my delivery is off.
Irene laughs anyway. “That man of yours knows what he wants, no?”
“Yes, he does.”
“Jacob is the same. They have that in common.” She motions toward the barn. “You’ve some details to work out, but I think they want to have the ceremony here. Lunch afterward.”
Surprise trills in my chest. I didn’t expect Jacob and Irene to host the wedding. Because I left the Amish. Because Bishop Troyer will not officiate. Because there’s an impossible amount of work to be done and just a few days in which to do it. Until this moment, I didn’t fully realize how much it means to me to have the wedding here.
“Thank you,” I tell her. “There’s a lot of family history here.”
“And more memories to be made, Katie. Don’t forget that.”
I look toward the barn. “I should say hello to Jacob,” I say. “Thank him.”
She looks down at the basket and sighs. “And I need to get back to my laundry.”
I reach out and touch her hand, give it a squeeze. “Danki.”
I start toward the barn, noticing the sliding door is open a few feet.
