Missing with Bonus Material: The Secrets of Crittenden County, Book One (13 page)

When Perry had stopped by to break off their date.

“Lydia, I can’t go walking with you, Something came up that I need to take care of.”

She’d bit her lip so he wouldn’t see how disappointed she was. She’d run around the house like a crazy person, getting her chores done early so she could spend the evening with him. “What?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Why not? What are you going to do?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.” But his eyes had darted away when he’d spoken.

“Is it another girl?”

A slow smile curved his lips. “
Nee
, Lydia. I won’t be with another girl. I wouldn’t do that to you.” He’d stopped all conversation then with a kiss. And then another one. And then another one.

She’d allowed it because she was sure that one day he was going to go back to being how he used to be—kind, patient. . .

Only later had she realized that he’d kissed her like that so she wouldn’t ask any more about his plans.

He’d only kissed her to make her be quiet.

Chapter 16

“Sometimes, in the middle of the night when the dream comes back, all I see was how Perry looked, lying at the bottom of the well. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t remember what he looked like alive. I don’t know why that is.”

A
BBY
A
NDERSON

C
an I come along?” Abby asked as Walker grabbed his keys to head out to his truck.

Her request caught him off guard. “Where do you think I’m going?”

“To see the Amish girl.”

He stopped in his tracks and glared at her. “How do you know about Lydia? And how do you know I was going to meet her today?”

“I overheard you talking on the phone to one of your friends about how you had plans.”

“So you just assumed I was going to see Lydia?”

“Who else would it be? Everyone’s talking about your new fascination with Lydia. It’s pretty obvious that you like her. I mean, you’ve never dated an Amish girl before.”

“We’re not dating.”

“Seems like you are . . .” Her voice drifted off suggestively. She was still his little sister and no matter what her age, she would always be into his business and always feel that she had the right to interfere.

“I don’t want company, Abby.”

“But—”

“That’s it. That’s all I’m saying.” He opened the door, ready to stride through the garage. But the light rain falling stopped him in his tracks.

With anyone else, he would’ve kept his plans without a second thought. But with Lydia? How did the rain affect her?

Would she still walk to the park in it, or would she opt not to go? Or would she take her buggy instead?

Was she even allowed to use her family’s buggy? For some reason, the fact that he had no idea what her situation was at home made him feel even more confused.

“She’ll be there, you know. The rain’s not going to stop her.”

He turned around. Though he was irritated that his sister was still hanging around, he was more interested in what she had to say. “Why do you say that?”

“That’s the way the Amish are.” Her voice was so strong and sure, she sounded like a mini-authority or something. “They value plans more than problems.”

“And you know this because . . .”

“Because of Grandma and Grandpa, of course.”

“They’re my grandparents, too, Lydia. I didn’t know that they felt that way.”

“You don’t ask.”

“And you do?”

A flash of hurt entered her eyes, and because it hadn’t been there before, Walker felt his cheeks burn. Hadn’t he promised himself to be there for her to be the one person in her life who she could depend on? “Sorry, squirt.” He sighed. “Listen, Abby, Lydia won’t like you being there. Plus, we’ve got to talk about some things that are private.”

“How about this? I’ll only stay for a little while.”

“Abby—”

“Just let me ask her a few questions, then I’ll leave you two alone. Promise.”

“You seem to have all the answers.”

“Come on, Walker. Please?”

Suddenly, he had nothing to lose. “Fine. Get in. But if all of this backfires, I’m going to totally blame you.”

“Blame me all you want.”

Oh, he would. If Lydia did actually show up. Turning on his windshield wipers, he glanced his sister’s way. “If things turn out bad, not only am I going to blame you, I’m going to expect you to fix it.”

Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting silently in the cab of his truck. Watching fat raindrops splash against the windshield. And waiting.

And then they saw her.

“Well, I guess they do use umbrellas,” Abby stated as they watched a solitary figure walk down the main path under a bell-shaped black umbrella. “Do you have one in here?”

“No. Why?”

“Well, where are you going to talk to her? I mean she’s probably not going to want to sit in here, right?”

His sister had a point. “There’s an overhang by the restrooms. Let’s go meet her there.”

Abby didn’t wait two minutes. She opened up her side and scrambled out, waving and calling to Lydia like they were best friends. Walker felt like sinking into his seat as Lydia stopped abruptly, looked at Abby, then at his truck in confusion.

Then slowly raised a hand and waved back.

There was only one thing to do. He opened up his door and joined them. And pretended that his heart was beating a little faster because he was embarrassed that he’d brought his little sister along.

It had nothing to do with the way he felt around Lydia.

Or that when he’d glanced her way, she’d met his gaze.

And then slowly smiled.

O
h, for heaven’s sakes! Walker had brought a friend to their meeting. A girlfriend, obviously, from the way she seemed so at ease around him.

And with that observation, all the warmth and anticipation Lydia had been feeling vanished in an instant. The last time they’d seen each other, she’d been so sure that they had something special between them. Okay, well perhaps that was an exaggeration.

But if it wasn’t special, it was good, at the very least.

The problem was that she’d thought he’d felt the same way. Now it was obvious that she’d only been imagining things.

And she’d walked all this way in the rain, too! Looking down at herself, she shook the hem of her dress. The bottom two inches of her dress was soaked through, making her calves cold.

“Lydia, let’s go stand under that covered area by the restrooms!” Walker called out. “I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”

Now she had no choice. “Hold your horses,” she replied, feeling suddenly like she was sounding silly and immature. “It’s raining, ya know?”

“A little bit of rain shouldn’t stop your feet from moving.”

Crossing over to him, to them, she made a new plan. She’d stand with them for a little while, then turn around and get home. She would be in their company ten minutes, tops.

She’d gone to a lot of effort for such a brief visit, but that couldn’t be helped.

“I hope you don’t mind that I brought my sister,” he said, the look in his eyes fully detailing his apology.

She was brought up short. “Sister?”

The girl stepped forward. Gave a little, half-hearted wave. “Hi,” she said shyly. “I’m Abby.”

Stunned, Lydia looked from Abby to Walker to Abby again. There, she saw the matching brown eyes. The wheat-colored hair. The same sprinkling of freckles.

And just as importantly, she saw Abby’s youth and hesitancy. The girl was nervous around her! But there was something in her eyes, too. A plea for acceptance, to be included.

As Lydia continued to study her, Abby’s look of hope dimmed. “Do you not want me here?” She bit her lip. “Walker told me I shouldn’t come, but I really wanted to. I’m sorry.”

“Nee! I mean, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. When I first saw you two together . . . well, I thought you were a couple, you see.”

This time it was Walker who looked struck dumb. “You thought Abby and me were together?”

“You came together. It was an honest mistake.” She shook her head from the pesky cobwebs that had threatened to overtake her good sense. “I am sorry for my confusion. Abby, I am Lydia Plank. It is good to meet you.”

Around them, the rain and the wind increased, so much so that the water spattered on their clothes even though at least a foot of covering protected them from the rain. Well, Lydia at least was still getting a good drenching.

“Hey, you’re getting soaked,” Walker said. “Come closer.”

Next thing she knew, he was circling her waist with his hand and pulling her toward him.

Rather, toward him and Abby.

The moment she was steady on her feet, he stepped back. “No reason to stand so far apart, right?”

“Right. Of course.” His innocent touch had disturbed her as much as the pang of jealously she’d felt when she’d seen them together.

In order to push those unwelcome feelings away, she focused on the girl staring at her wide-eyed. “Why did you want to meet me?”

“Oh. Um. I don’t know.”

Walker winked. “I told you she was blunt, Abby. Tell her the truth.”

“I think I want to become Amish,” Abby said.

The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them. “Now, why on earth would you want to do that?”

Abby looked taken aback. So did Walker.

But Lydia held her ground. “Do you have a reason?”

“I want to be Amish because I think I’d fit in better.”

The Amish community was a Christian one. And forgiving of others, for sure. But that didn’t mean they didn’t have strict rules by which to abide. Lydia couldn’t imagine the typical teenager knowingly adopting them. “I’m confused. You don’t fit in with . . .”

“She’s having a hard time at school,” Walker explained, resting one of his hands on Abby’s shoulder.

As Lydia watched, his touch seemed to calm his sister. “She doesn’t really fit in,” he murmured. “And now that everyone only thinks of her as the girl who found the dead guy, it’s gotten worse. She’s withdrawn . . .” His voice drifted off. “I don’t know if she is thinking about being Amish because she wants to live like her grandparents, or just escape from the situation she’s in.”

“Ah.” Lydia didn’t know what to say. After all, she didn’t know the girl. And had never walked in her shoes.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Abby asked. “You don’t get why I would think about changing my life.”

“I understand about changing your life. But as for wanting to become Amish? I do not. Being Amish isn’t for making new friends, you know.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do. I’m trying to find out where I feel best. Have you ever wished for that? To find something that’s been missing?”

That’s been missing.

“
Jah
. I have wished for that. Lately, I’m been looking for parts of my past, pieces that are missing in my life.”

“For things you don’t remember?”

“For things that happened to me when I was but a
boppli
—a babe,” she corrected. “I don’t expect to remember what happened, but I do hope to at least learn some details about what happened to me.”

Walker’s gaze held steady. “You have every right to want to know the truth,” he said softly. Then he turned and looked pointedly at Abby. “And this is definitely none of your business.”

“I wasn’t going to ask.” Abby swallowed hard. “Lydia, can I ask you an Amish question?”

She braced herself. “Of course.”

“I’ve already told her you may not want to answer any of her questions,” Walker interjected. “So don’t feel obligated to answer.”

“Now you have me curious, Abby. Go ahead and ask.” As she waited, Lydia prepared herself to be asked about the pins on her dress. Or her white
kapp
. Or what she ate. Or why she stopped going to school at fourteen.

Abby breathed deep. “Okay. Here goes: Why do you like being Amish?”

The question caught Lydia off guard. “Do you mean what do I like?” she asked, deliberately misunderstanding the question. Just to give herself an added second or so. “Do you mean about our buggies and no electricity?”

This time it was Abby who looked put out. “No,” she said, impatience running through her tone. “My grandparents are Amish. I know all about the way they live. But what I don’t know is how they feel about it. Do you
like
being Amish, Lydia?”

Well, that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Did she like where she was, who she was—the parts she knew of herself?

With a burst of awareness, she knew that she was just like Abby. Confused about who she was and who she should be.

And confused about why she was confused, which was the most disturbing of all.

“I don’t know,” she finally replied.

Realizing right then and there that she hadn’t given a reply at all.

Chapter 17

“For most of his life, Perry was a good brother to his sister, and a good son to us. That’s really all a parent can ask of a child. Ain’t it so?”

A
BRAHAM
B
ORNTRAGER

O
ur boy, he was not perfect, but he was not who you are making him out to be,” Mr. Borntrager stated firmly. “I am certain of that.”

With effort, Luke held his tongue. He’d been through this scenario countless times. It was never easy telling loved ones about crimes the departed had committed. And it was even harder when it was necessary to try to get more information about the deceased.

No one ever liked to speak ill of the dead—that was one thing that seemed to cross all lines. It didn’t matter how old a person was, or what their religion, or even if they were man or woman. Everyone wanted to suddenly pretend that the person they were mourning was better than they remembered.

Luke supposed he’d done the same thing.

For most of his life, he’d reconfigured his father’s memory into something he could be proud of. As the years passed, his father had become kinder and more understanding. Luke sometimes revised his father’s work history, too. He hadn’t been full of excuses for not finding work. No, he’d just been laid off. For a really long time.

And he’d only yelled at his children because he was stressed, not because he had few parenting skills.

So, yeah, he understood Mr. Borntrager’s feelings. But there also came a time when facts had to be acknowledged and justice served.

“I’m sure Perry had his good qualities, sir. I’m not disputing that. But the fact is, there are enough people who witnessed him hanging out with known drug pushers that I’m afraid I have to accept that he was mixed up in some dangerous business.”

Before his eyes, Mrs. Borntrager crumbled. “You don’t think they are lying?” she asked weakly. “I mean, maybe they were jealous of him for some reason?”

“People aren’t jealous of drug dealers, ma’am.” When she winced, he felt bad, but still, he continued. “I’d like to search his room again. If you don’t mind.”

Mr. Borntrager obviously did. “Mose already did that,” he retorted, getting clumsily to his feet. “Mr. Reynolds, you’ve already been in there, too.”

“I realize that. However, I’d still like to search it again.”

Mr. Borntrager stood rooted to his spot, effectively blocking Luke’s way. “I don’t have time to stand around and watch you search. Chores haveta get done.”

“I understand. Actually, I’d prefer to look around on my own. I want to look in Deborah’s room as well.”

“But why? Deborah ain’t here.” Mrs. Borntrager’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“She might have known something but didn’t tell you.” He paused. “Where is she, again?”

“She’s in Charm,” Mr. Borntrager said. “In Ohio.”

Luke pretended he was looking through his notes, though he remembered the detail. “Deborah left soon after Perry’s body was found. Isn’t that right?”

“My parents live in Charm. The visit had been planned for months,” her father replied with a defiant edge in his voice.

“Plus, it has been hard on Deborah,” her mother said. “She’s lost her brother, you know.”

Luke stepped closer to the stairs. “I know this is upsetting, but you need to let me do my job,” Luke said.

“Maybe it’s God’s will that we’ll never know the truth,” Mrs. Borntrager whispered. “Maybe that’s why this investigation has been so difficult. Our son is in the ground. No matter what you discover in his room, it won’t bring Perry back. You should listen to the Lord.”

“I believe the Lord guides my life, ma’am. And because of that, I believe he gave me the skills to do my job. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go on up to his room.”

For a moment, both parents stood together, a solid wall against him. Fear was etched in their eyes, as was lingering pain and a flash of irritation. It was becoming obvious that the Borntragers wanted Luke or Mose to produce Perry’s murderer out of thin air, then send him to trial and get him convicted. All without involving them or delving into Perry’s character.

Of course, that wasn’t going to happen. He needed to dig deeper into Perry’s life in order to discover exactly who he’d been hanging out with. Doing that meant he was almost sure to uncover some of Perry’s activities that his parents didn’t know about.

The Borntragers slowly moved apart. Neither met his gaze as he stepped through them and slowly climbed the stairs, his left leg hurting more than ever.

The clamber of his boots echoed on each step as he climbed the staircase.

He remembered the upstairs being very small, and his impression didn’t change as he surveyed the narrow hallway branching out into two cubby-sized rooms. Though he knew the left belonged to Perry, he opened the right door. There he saw a room so pristine and sparse, it looked as if a nun had taken up residence. A twin-sized bed rested next to the far wall. Only two other small pieces of furniture kept company with it—a bedside table and a chest of drawers made out of oak. Looking closer, he noticed a figurine with a quote from Matthew written below it. Saw a stack of books.

This had to be Deborah’s room. Luke wondered why it was so empty. Had she kept it this way, or had her mother put most of her belongings away?

Or had she taken most of her things to Charm? And if she’d done that, how long was she planning to stay in Ohio?

Thankful that no footsteps had followed him upstairs, he crossed the room and opened the thin drawer of the bedside table, hoping against hope that he’d suddenly find a stash of receipts or a hastily handwritten note addressed to Perry.

Inside, he did find a stack of birthday cards to Deborah. He sorted through them, but didn’t find anything of interest besides a pad of paper with hearts and the initials J.S. written on it, then hastily scribbled over.

Quietly, he left the room and crossed the hall. Then opened Perry’s door and walked right into another world. Whereas most of the house was Plain, Perry’s looked very close to an English boy’s room. Clothes hung on pegs—homemade trousers with suspenders, jeans, and T-shirts. Books of all kinds littered his desk and a wobbly-looking bookshelf. History texts lay between a Bible and a pair of current paperback bestsellers. On his desk were pencils, pens, scribbled sheets of paper, and a few pennies.

Three quilts piled on the bed. A pair of boots stood at attention to the side. A shade was halfway up the window, letting in the bright sunlight, casting shadows on most everything else.

Luke wondered about the differences in the two bedrooms. Wondered about the English clothes that were out in plain sight. And wondered if any of it would help him at all.

Well, there was only one way to find out. He sat back down at the desk and began going through every book and sheet of paper again. He only stopped when he found a letter signed “Frannie.”

A
bby watched Lydia walk to her front steps and then disappear into her house with a feeling of loss. The whole afternoon hadn’t been anything like she’d imagined it would be. She’d thought she’d feel included and eager to be more like Lydia.

Instead, she only had more questions.

“You’ve been quiet for five whole minutes,” Walker said as he shifted into reverse, glanced out the mirror, then backed down the driveway. “I would’ve thought you’d be talking nonstop.”

“I guess I don’t have anything to say.”

“Why not? Lydia answered all your questions?”

“No.” Abby struggled to put her mishmash of emotions into the right words. But her efforts were futile. “I thought she’d be happier or something,” she finally muttered.

“Happier about what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess since she’s older and Amish and everything . . . I was hoping she’d seem more content with her life. But she seems just as confused about her life as me. I didn’t expect that.” She clasped her hands tightly in her lap, waiting for him to tease her about what she said.

But to her surprise, he looked contemplative. “I think Lydia has a lot on her mind. Just because she’s Amish, doesn’t mean her life is problem-free.”

“I know the Amish have problems, too, Walker.” She frowned. “Do you think Lydia is still upset about P-Perry?” Gosh, she still could barely say his name.

“Probably. But that’s not what I’m talking about.” He stopped at the light and turned on his right blinker. “She found out some things about her family that she didn’t know before. Some pretty heavy stuff.”

Abby was dying to get details, but she knew if she pushed Walker wouldn’t tell her anything. “Well, I thought she’d at least be happy being Amish.”

Finally came the bark of laughter she’d been expecting. “Your problem, Abby Anderson, is that you want easy answers to hard questions.”

“Not all the time.”

“A lot of the time you do. You’ve always been that way. You’ve always asked ‘why’ about a hundred times a day. And you’ve wanted your answers immediately.”

Stung, she said, “Well, one thing that was really obvious was how much you two like each other.”

He stiffened. “I’ve told you we’re not dating, Abby.”

“Oh, I know that. But you’re also not just friends. You’re more than that.” When he didn’t reply, she pushed. “Have you two always been close?”

“What do you mean, ‘always’?”

“I mean, even back when she was dating Perry . . . did you like her?”

“I didn’t know her.”

“Really? I thought sometimes all of you hung out together.”

“Not really.”

Remembering last December—remembering hearing something about how a group of them had run into each other by chance but had ended up hanging out for hours—she said, “But weren’t you all together around New Year’s?”

Next to her, his posture became rigid and his expression turned glacial, telling her without a doubt that she’d gone too far. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry, I know it’s none of my business.”

Walker said nothing more until he pulled the truck into their driveway. “Abby, maybe your problem isn’t that you’re not Amish,” he said with icy contempt. “Maybe it’s your mouth. You say too much and ask too many questions and expect people to give you information that’s none of your business.”

“I don’t—”

“You do,” he interrupted. “You do this all the time. Don’t ask me to take you to see Lydia again.”

“Walker, you know I didn’t mean to upset her or get too pushy—” What she wanted to say was that she didn’t mean to push him so much.

“But you did,” he snapped. “You did, like you always do.”

And with that, he unbuckled his seat belt, pulled his keys out of the ignition, and left the truck with her still sitting in it.

Abby sat in the cab for a long time afterward. Watching it rain. Thinking about the way Lydia and Walker pretended not to stare at each other.

Thinking about her brother’s reaction to her simple comment about New Year’s.

Right about when Perry Borntrager went missing. Did her brother know more than he was letting on?