Page 50 of An Evil Heart
“The Mennonite preacher from Sugarcreek is going to marry us.”
Another motion toward Tomasetti. “He told me.”
I stand there, staring at him, not sure what to say. It’s as if my brother has suddenly realized I’m a human being.
“Need some help cutting off those branches?”
Vaguely, I’m aware of Tomasetti’s voice behind me. Jacob shifting his gaze from me to Tomasetti and back to me. “I suspect I might be out here a couple days with this saw,” he says slowly.
I step back, look from man to man, find them staring at me, their expressions curious and perplexed.
“I have to get back to work,” I hear myself say.
“Any breaks in the case?” Tomasetti asks.
“Working on it,” I say. “You?”
For the first time his expression darkens and I realize he needed this time away as badly as I did. “They’re still missing.”
“So, there’s hope.”
“Yeah.” He closes the distance between us and reaches for my hands. “Glad you could make our meeting, Chief.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it.”
He raises his hand and brushes his knuckles across my cheek, then motions toward the tree. “Just so you know, I think we got the situation under control.”
“You mean the tree?”
“Among other things.”
A quick squeeze of my hands, and he looks over his shoulder at my brother. “I’ll take the thickest branches,” he tells him. “Since I have the chain saw. Why don’t you start with the smaller ones, and we’ll get this big fellow whittled down to size?”
CHAPTER 14
I’m still thinking about my exchange with Jacob and getting used to the idea that Tomasetti and I will be getting married on the farm where I grew up as I drive to the police station. I feel optimistic and somehow lighter as I pull into my parking spot. I notice the buggy parked a few spaces down and I wonder who’s waiting for me inside.
I enter to find two Amish women standing at the reception desk, talking to my dispatcher. Only when the smaller of the two looks over her shoulder at me do I recognize her. A tingle of curiosity moves through me at the sight of Christina Weaver.
She actually startles at the sight of me, a deer in the headlights of a Mack truck that’s about to mow her down. She turns away, her eyes seeking a route of escape.
Lois stands. “Chief Burkholder.” Her eyes hold an apology, letting me know that the two women showed up without notice. Usually, that’s nota problem; that’s why I’m here, after all—to serve the citizens of Painters Mill. Of course, I’m in the midst of a murder investigation.
“This is Naomi Weaver and her daughter, Christina,” Lois tells me. “They’d like to speak to you if you have a few minutes.”
The incident at the scene where Aden Karn was killed scrolls through my brain. The defaced photo. The jaunt through the woods. The odd exchange between us once I caught up with her. I hadn’t been able to get much out of her, but I’d left with the sense that she knew more than she was letting on.
“Christina and I have met.” I nod at the two women. “Guder nammidaag.” Good afternoon. “Let’s go into my office and talk.”
I lead them down the hall and into my office and motion them into chairs. They decline my offer of coffee, and as I settle into the chair at my desk, I sense the tension coming off them.
I look from mother to daughter. “What can I do for you?” I begin.
Christina stares back at me as if she’s an inch away from bolting. She fidgets, unable to sit still. Her hands tangle in her lap, her fingers shaking, nails bitten to the quick.
“My husband and I saw you drop her off the other night.” Naomi tightens her mouth. “If you hadn’t done that, I’d have never known what she did.”
“Christina told you what happened?” I ask.
