A Simple Winter: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel (40 page)

“So far, so good. Aside from a few people missing oil deliveries, seems like everyone made it through the storm just fine.” He wheeled his chair out from behind his desk and moved closer to the couch where Remy, Simon, and Adam sat waiting.

“Thanks for coming in, Hank,” Nancy began. “When I heard what we had here, I knew you’d want to handle it yourself. Seems Simon here has been remembering some details from last year …” She glanced down at Adam’s brother, who seemed okay so far. “Some of the particulars that might help you home in on the person who killed Esther and Levi.”

“Is that right.” Hank wheeled his chair closer, his broad face kind as he leaned on his knees, getting on Simon’s level. “What do you have to say, young man? Some of it’s coming back to you?”

Simon nodded.

“He remembers seeing a man that night,” Adam said, turning to his brother. “Tell him what you saw … looking down from the buggy.”

Simon’s amber eyes seemed to draw strength from Adam as he spoke. “After he shot Mamm, he came back over and poked at her. When she didn’t move, I think he gave up. He was leaving when I peeked out at him. Looking down from the buggy, I saw the top of his head.” He patted his own head. “It was shiny bald, and there was a red mark on it. A mark shaped like … like a map of Florida.”

“Is that right?” Hank kept his tone casual. “So you’re learning your states in school?”

“All fifty.”

Adam was encouraged by Hank’s demeanor and Simon’s response. So far Hank’s line of questioning wasn’t upsetting Simon.

“And you saw what he was wearing, right?” Remy prodded.

“A puffy black coat. And pants with a stripe.” Simon pointed to Hank’s long legs. “Like yours.”

“Wow.” Hank sat back in his chair. “A man in a uniform.”

Simon nodded.

“Sheriff, we were going to come to you with this information, but then today at the market I started making some connections.”

Hank turned to Remy, squinting at her. “I’m sorry. I thought you were one of the Kings, but I don’t think we’ve met before.”

“This is Remy McCallister, from Philadelphia,” Nancy said.

Hank nodded at her. “Ms. McCallister.”

“Call me Remy. I’ve been staying with the Kings and … well, anyway, we were sort of collecting all this information and then today—this.” She gestured to Nancy, who handed him a cell phone.

“I took this photo from the loft in Zook’s barn,” Nancy explained.

The sheriff squinted at the image on the phone. “You got a good shot, Nancy. Who is this?”

“Chris Mueller.” Nancy winced and swallowed hard.

Adam could see this was hard for her. Nancy was friendly with Chris Mueller’s mother, Gina, but she had always been good to Adam’s mother, too. The two women had shared recipes and gardening tips. Nancy was the one who told the Kings about Dr. Trueherz’s clinic after two of Adam’s siblings had died so young.

Hank took a deep breath, then handed the phone to Adam. “Okay by you if Simon takes a look at this?”

The image was the top of a man’s head, a red mark prominent on his bald pate. “Sure.” Adam handed the phone to his brother.

“Oh, no.” Simon stared, his face puckered in horror. “That’s what it looked like. The man who shot Mamm.” Suddenly his eyes filled with tears. “He shot her, and then he came back and pushed her again. He killed her.”

Slipping his arm around his little brother, Adam held him close.

“That was a terrible thing he did, something no boy should have to see.” Hank took the phone from Simon and patted his knee. “You’re a brave boy. Now all these things you’re telling me, it’s all the truth, right?”

“It’s true.” Swiping at his tears, Simon nodded. “A lie is a bad thing. You must always tell the truth.”

“That’s right, young man.” Hank rose and stood there for a moment, scratching one side of his white mustache. “If you don’t mind waiting for a few minutes, I’ll have Alice run a quick background check on Mueller.”

Nancy waved him off. “I’m here for the long haul. But, Simon, you’re looking a little pale. I’ve got just the thing, in here somewhere.” Flipping open her satchel on the floor, she began digging.

When Hank turned to the sofa, Adam said, “We can wait.” They had plenty of time. Not even lunchtime yet and already Adam had wrangled a camera crew and snuck his brother out of the market without raising suspicion from a suspected killer. A very odd day, but it seemed like progress had been made. No one could bring his parents back, but it would be good to have their killer in a place where he could kill no more.

On the couch beside him, Remy was talking softly to Simon, pressing a tissue into his hand. She had pushed this investigation along. It seemed she was always pushing in some way. Pushing him to be mindful of his brothers and sisters, pushing him to say what was on his mind …

Pushing him to love.

He turned to see her playing gently with Simon. Her eyes, the color of an alfalfa field after a spring rain, shifted to his for a moment and he felt the bond between them. It was always there now, an invisible tether. They were like a team of horses, pulling together. Each one careful to stay in line with the other.

Simon’s tears began to dry when he had to choose between chocolate or strawberry granola on a stick from Nancy’s bag. He was unwrapping the snack when Hank returned.

“Alice is working on that for us.” Hank took his seat again. “She’s also going to call Judge Fletcher. We need a warrant to check out Mueller’s place, and I figure now’s as good a time as any. We’ll see what the judge says.”

“What would you hope to find there?” Remy asked.

Hank rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, as I remember the evidence collected at the scene, there was a man’s boot print and a couple of bullets. A boot that matches might place him at the scene, but the ballistics …” He nodded. “If we find a gun that matches the bullets from the crime scene, I’d say we have our man. I hope that’s not too graphic for you.”

“It’s fine,” Remy said. “I just don’t want this guy to walk.”

Nancy pointed at the air. “If he’s guilty.”

“Of course,” Remy agreed.

Hank rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. “This is not the first time Chris Mueller has been brought up in this investigation. He was a person of interest for a while last year, when a witness reported seeing him at Jeb’s Hardware arguing with Levi King.”

“Arguing with Dat?” Adam shook his head, unable to imagine his father arguing with an Englisher. “Over what?”

“Something about wildlife. Bird hunting? We checked it out, but at the time it didn’t seem to amount to much. The altercation occurred weeks before the murders.”

“But that’s not the first time Chris has mouthed off to someone.” Nancy shifted, burying her hands in the pockets of her fleece vest. “He has a problem with booze. That doesn’t make him a killer, but it’s made him surly from time to time. I know Gina has had her issues with him.”

“I’ve always found Chris to be respectful,” Hank said, “but I have had to ask him to leave the bar of the Mockingbird Inn a few times.”

“And do you remember that phase he went through when he kept taking on new get-rich-quick schemes?” Nancy asked Hank. “Nothing panned out for him, but he had big plans. He was going to sell Amish things on eBay. And then there was something about starting a pheasant-hunting preserve.” She shook her head. “I can
barely believe it. To think that boy might have killed my good friends.…”

“I know what you mean.” Adam tried to picture Chris as a kid, but could only remember Chris’s mother keeping him home, afraid of the giant horses on the surrounding farms.

“It may be hard to believe about Chris, but someone killed Esther and Levi,” Hank said. “And it’s my job to put that person behind bars.”

Hank was called out of the room. When he returned, he went to the rack for his hat. “I’m going to have to cut out for a while. You’re welcome to stay, come back later, whatever suits.”

Nancy rose and grabbed her satchel. “Anything we can do to help?”

“Just keep a lid on this for now. Our check on Chris Mueller came back with half a dozen arrests in Pittsburgh, where he went to college. Mostly barroom brawls, drunk and disorderly. But based on that and the information you gave us, Judge Fleming called in a search warrant.”

Hank put on his hat and grabbed his coat. “Good thing the wife let me take the Snow Monster today. I’m taking a ride out to the Mueller place.”

arming her hands around a mug of tea, Remy settled back onto the yellow gingham love seat in Nancy Briggs’s sunroom and tried to relax.

After the sheriff had left the station, Nancy had pointed out that the police station was no place to pass the time and offered her home as a place to wait. As they didn’t want to bring Simon back to the farmers market with Chris Mueller there, Adam had suggested they all share a pizza for lunch.

“Great idea,” Nancy had said. “I’m famished!”

Just three blocks from the police station and city hall, Nancy’s house was a modest Colonial tucked behind a white picket fence. Melting snow dripped onto the edges of the wide wood porch as Nancy led the way through the front door.

“Shoes off here. You can hang your hats and coats on the hooks there. We’ll eat in the red room,” Nancy had instructed.

The red dining room overlooked a snow-covered birdbath that
resembled a big white sugarplum. Simon set out place mats and napkins while Remy poured glasses of water and milk for Simon.

“Your kitchen is amazing. It’s awfully big for one person,” she told Nancy as she navigated the large room with two granite islands, a double-wide refrigerator, and an industrial-size range.

“That’s because it’s my factory and test kitchen, too.” Nancy slapped a hand on the smooth granite counter. “This is where the muesli bars are made.”

Simon had been thrilled to have “a real pizza, hot in a box,” as he said, and Remy had agreed that a bubbling hot pizza really hit the spot on a cold winter day.

Now, with lunch finished, Nancy was showing Simon her “trade secrets” as he watched her mix a batch of lemon poppy bars in the kitchen. Adam had grinned at the sight of his brother and Nancy wearing paper caps over their hair, but he seemed just as relieved as Remy to have some time alone in the sunroom.

So much had happened this morning; Remy’s head was still spinning.

“I’m trying not to count my chickens before they hatch,” she told Adam, who sat beside her on the love seat.

“Speaking in proverbs now?” He shot her a grin. “You’re really getting into the Plain way of life.”

She shrugged. “I’ve enjoyed it.” She had loved every minute, each and every day, from waking to the family milking under a purple sky to playing games by the fire to nestling under a quilt at night, tired to the bone. So wonderful … but right now so many things were drawing to a close, and the idea that she’d had a hand in solving the murders of Levi and Esther King was sheer exhilaration.

“I can’t stop thinking about Chris Mueller, and what it might mean for Simon if Chris is convicted. It will help Simon to know the killer isn’t lurking. I think it will bring Simon closure.”

Remy leaned forward to place her mug beside the magazines fanned out on the coffee table, then added: “
If
Chris is found guilty. That’s my problem, pushing ahead to the next thing. The sheriff isn’t even back from searching the Muellers’ house, and in my mind I’m lunging ahead.”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that.” Adam picked up a magazine from the table, one that showed a Northwest timber cottage on the edge of a blue lake. “You do push a lot.”

“I like to think I have a healthy curiosity.”

“And you like to get your way.”

Remy turned to him, hands on her hips. “Are you saying I’m a spoiled brat?” She knew it was probably true, but she liked drawing Adam into the verbal fray.

“I never said that, though it may be true.”

She leaned toward him until his smooth jaw was just inches from her face. His eyes held that brown shadow, which she’d come to recognize as a mixture of intrigue and attraction.

Those smoky eyes … she could stare into them forever.

“There are a lot of things you don’t say, Adam. You’re a little stingy with words at times—maybe that’s a cultural thing. But I think I’ve gotten pretty good at reading your body language.”

“Ya?” He tossed the magazine away and folded his arms across his chest. “What am I thinking now?”

Cocking an eyebrow, she tugged on the white string of her prayer kapp. “You’re thinking of how much you enjoy teasing me.”

“You got me.” He let his hands drop to his lap. “You’re good.”

“Denki.”

“So …” He took a breath and closed his hand over hers.

A tiny gasp escaped her throat at the electrifying contact.

“What am I thinking now?” he asked.

“I would read your mind if …” She closed her eyes.

If my pulse would stop racing
.

If I weren’t so blinded by emotion whenever you touch me
.

She opened her eyes and, squeezing his hand, pressed her cheek to his shoulder. How wonderful it felt to lean on Adam, to feel his warmth and solid support.