Dark Crossings (13 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

L
EO
F
ROST
WAS
WAITING
when Sarah and Jacob arrived at the
Strickland place the next day. Hank was nowhere to be seen. Either he had an
early class or he’d sensed Leo’s reservations where he was concerned; Sarah
wasn’t sure which.

The lawyer met them in the kitchen. “Sarah, Jacob, good
morning. I wanted to go over a few things with you, Sarah.”

Jacob made a movement toward the door. “I will go now, since
Mr. Frost is here.”

“Stay, please, Jacob.” He stopped him with a gesture. “I’m sure
Sarah has told you about her concerns over the way Richard Strickland died.”

Jacob nodded, his strong-featured face giving no hint as to his
opinion.

“I wanted you both to know that I discussed with Chief Byler
the things you noticed. I don’t want you to think I ignored your concerns.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Sarah said, but she could tell by his
face what Chief Byler’s opinion had been.

“We talked about it at length,” Leo went on. “But you must
understand that each of those things could have an innocent explanation.”

“
Ja,
I see.” That was it, then. No
one would take her worries seriously.

Leo shrugged, spreading his hands. “There was no indication
that the house had been broken into, and as far as I can tell, nothing is
missing. As for Richard’s will, I can’t see that anyone benefits from his death,
other than the Heart Association and the historical society.” He smiled, creases
deepening around his eyes. “Maude Stevens may be annoying, but I hardly think
she’d hurry his death for the sake of acquiring this house for her group.” Leo
eyed Sarah closely. “You’re still worried, aren’t you? Why?”

She shrugged, finding it difficult to put her observations into
words that wouldn’t sound foolish.

“Has anything else happened?” he pressed.

She hesitated. “There was the answering machine on the
telephone.”

“What about it?” Leo seemed puzzled, and Jacob gave her a look
that questioned why she hadn’t told him.

“After Mr. Strickland passed, I noticed that there were three
messages on the machine. I kept meaning to ask you what to do about them, but I
didn’t think of it when you were here. Yesterday, when I came back from town,
there were no messages.”

Frowning, Leo led the way to the little alcove off the hall
where the phone was. The two of them trouped after him.

“You did not tell me about this.” Jacob sounded accusing.

“I wasn’t sure it was important.” And she hadn’t wanted Jacob
to fret still more about her.

Leo stared at the answering machine, its unwinking red light
staring back at him. He pressed the play button. The machine whirred and shut
off. No messages.

He looked at her. “You’re sure of this?”

“
Ja.
I noticed it. I am sure. It’s
the same brand as the one
Daad
has in the phone
shanty.” Leo would understand that while Amish didn’t have phones in their
homes, most had access to one in a special shed somewhere on the
property—necessary for business and for emergencies.

Leo ran a hand over his thick white hair. “I have to confess
that electronic gadgets baffle me. I can’t even set my new alarm clock. Could a
power surge have wiped the messages away?”

“I don’t know.” The Amish didn’t rely on electric lines, just
batteries, and she had no idea.

“Are you sure you locked everything when you went out?” Leo
sounded frustrated, and she was sorry to have given him something else to worry
about.

“I…I think so.” She frowned. “I know I locked the front
door.”

“I suppose there are some extra keys floating around town,” Leo
admitted, “even though I collected the one Hank Mitchell had for emergencies.
Richard was careful, but he never imagined anything bad could happen here.”

Jacob stirred, as if the words had made him think of something.
“Sarah, I think you should tell Mr. Frost about what happened last night.”

“That couldn’t have anything to do with Mr. Strickland.” She
tried to sound as if she were sure.

“I think you should tell me anything that’s out of the
ordinary.” Leo’s normally clear blue eyes were clouded with doubt.

“The horses got out last night,” Jacob said, apparently
determined to take over. “Sarah was trying to catch the draft horse when all the
others came racing out, like something had scared them. They ran right toward
her.”

“You weren’t hurt?” Leo reached toward Sarah.

“No, no, I am fine.” She hurried to reassure him. “The animals
would not hurt me.”

“Not if they saw you,” Jacob corrected. “But they might if they
were spooked.”

“
Daad
says it was probably just
Englische
teenagers looking for mischief.” She
glared at Jacob. “What could anyone gain by injuring me?”

“Someone might feel he or she would have easier access to the
house if you weren’t here.” Leo’s frown deepened. “I don’t like this at all,
Sarah. Maybe I should get someone else to handle clearing up.”

“No one else knew Mr. Strickland and the house the way I do. If
anything is missing, I would notice it. Would anyone else?”

“Probably not,” he said slowly, as if he didn’t want to admit
it.

“Sarah…” Jacob began.

“I am fine, Jacob. Don’t fuss.”

“Well, one thing we can do is make the house more secure,” Leo
said. “I’ll have dead bolts installed on all the entrances immediately.”

“I can do that,” Jacob said. “I’ll go to the hardware store
right now.” He was determined to do something.

“Fine. I’ll go with you.” Leo clapped him on the shoulder.
“Sarah, lock the door behind us, please.”

She stood at the doorway, watching them leave together: the
formally dressed
Englischer
lawyer and the
straw-hatted Amishman. Despite the many differences between them, Jacob and Leo
had one thing in common—this ridiculous need to take care of her.

* * *

J
ACOB
HAD
INTENDED
to look after the new locks right away, but
things didn’t work out that way. He’d had to go back home to fetch his tools and
got tied up helping Sarah’s father. Finally, by midafternoon, he’d begun
installing them.

They were all done now, except for the front door. He worked
carefully, not wanting to leave a scratch on the polished wood surface. Sarah
would have something to say about that if he did.

Of course, she’d have to be talking to him for that. Since he’d
returned, her responses to him were of the yes and no variety.

Well, he understood his Sarah. She’d been annoyed that he’d
pushed her into telling Leo Frost about the incident with the horses, further
annoyed that he’d tried to take care of her. Interfering, she’d call it. She
ought to know by now that he couldn’t do anything else.

She’d been in the dining room for the past hour, wrapping
dishes in newspaper and packing them into boxes. He’d heard the occasional clink
of a plate and the rustle of paper. Now, it seemed, she’d gone into the kitchen,
and he could hear her moving around in there.

What was he going to do about Sarah? He couldn’t go on this
way, hoping she’d look at him and see someone other than the friend of her
childhood. He loved her. He wanted her to be his wife. But those thoughts always
brought him back to the same place. If he spoke up, he’d risk losing what they
had.

“Jacob, what is it? You’re looking grim.”

It was a measure of the intensity of his thoughts that he
hadn’t heard her approach.

She smiled at him, eyes questioning, and held out a glass of
tea, ice clinking. “I thought you could use a break.”

He took the glass, recognizing it as a truce. “Are you done
being mad at me now?”

“I’m getting there,” she said. “I know you mean to be
helpful.”

“This isn’t like getting you out of the apple tree or telling
your
mamm
that I was the one who ate the cherry pie.
If you are right about Mr. Strickland’s death…” He stopped, not sure he wanted
to put his fears into words.

She paled. “I know. I haven’t been able to think of anything
else since it happened. If someone was in the house that night…” She bit her
lip. “Surely no one would want to hurt Mr. Strickland.”

Her lost expression hit Jacob in the heart. He set the glass
down and touched her arm. “Maybe the police are right. If he heard something, it
is possible he would come down to check, ain’t so? And even if someone did try
to get in, that doesn’t mean that person caused him to fall. It could have been
an accident.”

Jacob wasn’t sure what he believed about Richard Strickland’s
death. He just knew he had to take that lost look from Sarah’s eyes.

It didn’t seem to be working. She rubbed her arms as if she was
cold.

“I can’t forget it, Jacob. I can’t. I have to know what
happened. I can’t just keep wondering.”

He longed to comfort her, but that wasn’t what she needed now.
She needed answers, and he didn’t have any.

“If someone was in the house that night,” he said, feeling his
way, “why were they here? To steal?”

It happened sometimes, even in a place like Springville. Even
the Amish weren’t immune. People sometimes tried to rob or cheat them, knowing
they were unlikely to go to the police.

“Maybe a thief,” she said. “But that wouldn’t explain the
answering machine. Why would a thief come back and wipe the messages off?”

“I don’t know.” He almost said that deleting the messages could
be accidental, but concentrating on the possibilities was chasing the hurt from
her eyes. “What about what Leo told us…that Mr. Strickland was going to change
his will?”

She considered for a moment, and then shook her head. “Leo was
right—you can’t think the people from the historical society would do violence
to stop him from changing his will.”

“I guess not.” He smiled. “But I wouldn’t want to cross Mrs.
Stevens.”

She managed to return the smile, encouraging him.

“If someone is trying to get into the house, there must be
something here that he or she wants,” he went on. “It’s like you told Leo—you’re
the best one to find it.”

Sarah looked at him, blue eyes shining again. “
Ja,
I am.”

It cost him a pang of worry for her, but he said it because he
knew this was what she needed. “Then why are you wasting time making iced
tea?”

Her arms went around him in a quick, warm hug. “
Danki,
Jacob.” She ran lightly up the steps.

CHAPTER SIX

M
R
.
S
TRICKLAND
HAD
HAD
two favorite rooms in this house: the downstairs
sunroom next to the kitchen, where he sat in the daytime, and the upstairs
study—his office, he’d called it. Sarah had spent the past hour working her way
through the massive mahogany desk in the study, methodically sorting papers for
Leo to go over. She’d found nothing remotely suspicious, but since she didn’t
know what she was looking for, that was hardly surprising.

Now she sat on the rug by the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves next
to the desk. The rows of books made an imposing array, looming over her when she
glanced up at them.

There was something alluring in all those books waiting to be
read. They should go someplace where they’d be used, but she’d have to have
Leo’s instructions before she could sort them.

The bottom shelves by the desk were different. Mr. Strickland
had used those to store items he planned to deal with soon: stacks of magazines
he hadn’t finished reading, a wire basket filled with Christmas cards and
another basket that held appeals from charities. She’d seen him working his way
through those, consulting his ledger to find out what he had donated when. He’d
been a generous man in his way, quietly supporting a number of good causes. But
he’d been careful with his money as well, making sure he wasn’t taken in by
repeated requests to an organization that had already received its yearly
stipend.

Sarah pushed the charity requests aside. Leo would have to take
care of them. Would Mr. Strickland have made provision in his will for the
charities he’d supported in his life? If not, some of the local ones would feel
the pinch.

Next to the baskets sat a pile of leather-bound books she
didn’t recall seeing the last time she’d dusted in here. She lifted one from the
stack and wiped it gingerly with her hand. Definitely not here when she’d
cleaned, or it wouldn’t have been so dirty.

She opened the book, curious, and found a much younger Richard
Strickland staring at her from the page. They weren’t books; they were photo
albums.

She bent over, entranced by the black-and-white image of a man
she could hardly imagine. Wearing a straw hat at a jaunty angle, a teenaged
Richard leaned against a tree. Behind him, she could make out blankets spread on
the ground, anchored by picnic baskets. Girls in white dresses and young men in
sweater vests and straw hats lounged on the blankets. One girl walked toward
Richard, holding a plate in her hands. Her head was tilted back, showing a
sweet, heart-shaped face and a mass of dark hair.

Sarah carried the album to the window for a little more light
and realized she’d have to turn a lamp on for that. While she’d been engrossed
in what she was doing, the sunny day had turned dark.

She glanced to the west. Black clouds massed over the distant
hills. Spring, always changeable, had a storm in store for them.

Leaving the album for another time, she hurried to the upstairs
hall, automatically putting the doorstop back in place again. She looked down
over the railing. The tile floor seemed far away, and Jacob wasn’t at the front
door any longer. She went quickly down the stairs, running her hand along the
smooth railing, trying not to think of Mr. Strickland grasping at it as he
fell.

The hallway was deserted, the house quiet around her except for
the creaking of a shutter someplace as the wind started to pick up. They’d have
to hurry if they were going to beat the storm home.

“Jacob?” She walked back down the hallway, glancing into the
living room and dining room as she passed. Where was he? Surely he wouldn’t have
left the house without telling her.

Another creak was followed by what might have been a distant
footstep. Her pulse thudded in her throat, and a chill snaked down her
spine.

Ach,
she was acting
ferhoodled,
that was for sure. There was nothing in
this house to be afraid of. She’d heard all its creaks and moans before. There
was nothing different this time.

The sunroom was empty—forlorn, it seemed, without Mr.
Strickland’s familiar presence in his favorite chair. The boxes of clothes she’d
packed earlier were stacked there, ready for pickup by the Goodwill truck.

She hurried into the kitchen, her worry about Jacob building.
Where was he? “Jacob? This is no time for hide-and-seek.”

No answer, but a sound came from behind her. She whirled, and
saw that the basement door stood open.

“Jacob?” Foolish, to let her voice quaver that way.

“
Ja,
I am here.” Footsteps sounded
on the wooden cellar steps, and he appeared, looking as dusty as the album had
been.

“What have you been doing to get so dirty?” Relief made her
voice tart. “Don’t you see there’s a storm coming?”

He smiled, wiping his face on his sleeve. “Can’t see much of
anything down there. I was trying to be sure that the windows were secure.
There’s so much junk it’s hard to get to them.” He glanced at the kitchen window
and his expression sobered. “Rain is coming for sure. We’d best get on the road
or we’ll be stuck in town. Where’s your bonnet?”

“Here in the hall.” She’d already gone to grab it, tying it
quickly on her head. “What about the new keys?”

“They’re on the table—no, here they are on the counter.” Jacob
hurried after her, holding out a ring of shiny keys. “You’d best take charge of
them until you can give them to Leo.”

They went out, Jacob heading for the spot under the walnut tree
where he’d left the buggy, while she wrestled with the stiff new lock, finally
getting it to turn.

By the time she reached Jacob, he was backing the mare between
the buggy shafts. Sarah went automatically to the opposite side, grasping the
harness when he tossed it over. “Poor Bess,” she murmured. “You had a boring
day, ain’t so? Never mind. You’ll soon be home.”

“If she’s not, we’re all going to get a soaking,” Jacob
commented. He started around to help Sarah up, but she clambered into the seat
on her own.

“Komm, schnell.”
She grinned at
him. “I am already up.”

Making no comment, he went back around and swung himself easily
into the seat. Bess didn’t need any urging to start moving. She had probably
sensed the storm coming long before Sarah had noticed it.

Sarah waited until they’d cleared town traffic and were driving
on the narrow, two-lane country road before she spoke. “I’m sorry I didn’t see
the sky darkening earlier. I should have noticed.”

“What were you doing that had you so occupied?” He glanced at
her, his blue eyes reflecting the blue shirt he wore. Funny, that she noticed
that. She knew Jacob so well that she usually didn’t even see him.

“Sorting upstairs in the study. I found some old photo albums
that Mr. Strickland must have been looking at. You should have seen the picture
I found of him as a young man.”

“A ladies’ man, was he?” Jacob’s gaze was fixed on the road
ahead as the mare trotted along.

“I’ll bet he was. He looked so pleased with himself, out on a
picnic with a group of his friends.” It struck her as sad, suddenly—all those
youthful faces, most of them just a memory now.

Jacob clasped her hand for a moment, seeming to read her
thoughts. “He was a
gut
man, and he had a
gut
life.”

She nodded, comforted. That was all any of them, Amish or
Englische,
could hope to have said about them.

A fat raindrop landed on her skirt, followed by another. “Here
comes the rain.” She pulled her lightweight sweater more snugly around her. Too
bad she hadn’t worn a jacket today.

“Like I said, we’ll get soaked.” Jacob reached under the seat
to pull out a lap robe. He let Bess trot on by herself while he smoothed it
around Sarah’s shoulders. “There. That should keep the worst of it off.” He
smiled, his face very close to hers for a moment, and her heart seemed to give
an extra beat. Then he was turning away to pick up the lines again. “Step up,
Bess.”

The mare, as steady and solid as her master, moved on, hooves
clopping on the wet pavement.

Sarah snuggled into the robe, clutching it around her, still
seeming to feel the weight of Jacob’s palms on her shoulders.

“Car coming,” Jacob said briefly, his hands steady on the
lines.

A car swished by, too fast, she thought, for the road
conditions. Hadn’t the driver seen Jacob’s battery-operated blinkers? Or did he
just not care? His passing sent up a spray of water, and she pressed closer to
Jacob, feeling his warmth.

“Foolish, driving so swiftly in the rain,” he said. “Keep an
eye out behind us and let me know if anyone else is coming up that fast.”

“Ja.”
She slid her hand into the
crook of his arm to keep her balance, and swiveled her head to watch. She
couldn’t see very far, not with the wind blowing the rain in sheets. A shiver
ran through her. She should have been watching the weather. Should have
suggested they wait out the storm.

Still, they were nearly home now. Another hundred yards and
they’d be turning into the lane.

A white vehicle appeared out of the rainy mist behind them, so
pale it seemed insubstantial. “Another one,” she warned.

Jacob nodded, steering Bess to the right until the right-side
wheels bit into the gravel of the berm. That should give the driver plenty of
room to pass.

But the vehicle wasn’t passing. Sarah gasped, hands digging
into Jacob’s arm. “He’s coming right at us.” She could hear the fear in he
voice.

Jacob muttered something, steering Bess still farther over,
practically to the edge of the ditch.

But it wasn’t enough. Sarah barely heard the crash before she
was ripped away from Jacob and sent flying from the buggy.

* * *

J
ACOB
LAY
FACEDOWN
in mud. Shaking his head free, he pushed
back with his hands, trying to make his mind work. The buggy, the rain, the blur
of white…Sarah!

He scrambled to his feet, slipping and sloshing in the muddy
ditch. Where was Sarah? His heart thudded so loudly he could hear it. Where was
she? He tried to look around, but his vision was blurring. The rain, driving
down now in torrents, made it worse. He couldn’t see her….

“Sarah!” Her name came out as a croak, and he tried again.
“Sarah, where are you?” He stumbled out of the ditch, peering around, trying to
force his eyes to focus.

The buggy was tilted end up in the ditch, the shafts shattered.
Bess stood trembling, tangled in her lines. He had to help the mare, but had to
find Sarah first.

“Sarah!” he cried out, his voice breaking.

“Here.” The sound was faint, but he heard it.

He spun, half running, half staggering toward the rear of the
buggy.

Sarah was getting up—from the soft ground, thank the
gut
Lord, not from the macadam. He reached her,
grabbed her wrists and pulled her against him. He wrapped his arms around her
and held on tightly.

“Sarah.”
Danki, Father.
“Are you
all right? Do you hurt anywhere?”

He felt her shake her head against his chest. She’d lost her
bonnet somehow, and her cheek pressed against him.

“You’re certain sure?” He ran his palms up and down her back,
needing to know for himself that she was in one piece.

“I’m all right.” Her voice was muffled by his damp shirt.
“Just…just shaky. And scared.” She pressed closer to him. “I couldn’t see you. I
thought…”

She let the words drift off, but he knew. She’d felt the same
thing he did—sheer terror at the thought of losing each other.

A car shrieked to a stop at the side of the road. The sound
galvanized Jacob, and he drew back. He looked searchingly into her face. She was
mud-streaked, her hair wet and plastered to her head. She was beautiful.

He touched her face, smoothing back a strand of wet hair.
“Sarah, I—”

“Are you all right?” The car’s occupant had reached them.

He released Sarah reluctantly and turned, to find Sam
Robertson, who ran the local hardware store, staring at them. “I already called
the police. Do you need the EMTs, Jacob? Sarah?”

Relieved that it was someone he knew, Jacob shook his head. “We
are shaken, that’s all.” He suspected they’d both be sore tomorrow. “Bess… I
must get Bess out of the harness.”

Sam nodded. “I’ll put some flares out so no other darn fool
comes barreling down on us. Stupid people don’t have sense the good Lord gave a
gnat.”

“I’ll help with the horse.” Sarah was already moving toward
Bess, not giving Jacob a chance to suggest she sit down instead.

Still, he was glad of her help. Bess was a fine, steady animal,
but this would try any horse’s nerves. At least she wasn’t attempting to kick
the buggy into more pieces than it already was.

“Easy, Bess, easy.” Sarah held the mare’s head, her voice
soothing. “We will have you out of this soon, you’ll see.”

Jacob took a moment to survey the tangle, tracing the lines of
the harness and the possible dangers. One of the broken shafts was perilously
near the mare’s side; he’d have to get that away first.

It was hard to get a decent grip when his feet kept slipping in
the mud and water, but finally he’d wedged the shaft out enough that he could
pull on it. “Hold her head steady,” he said, more for the sake of saying
something to Sarah than because she needed directions.

“I am,” she said, her voice calm. “She is being as
gut
as gold, aren’t you, Bess?”

She stroked the mare’s nose, crooning to her, as Jacob eased
the broken shaft away from her flank and tossed it to the side.

He could breathe again. Now it was just a matter of getting the
harness off her. Already he could hear the hiss of the flares on the road, and
he spotted Josiah running down the lane from the house as one of Sarah’s sisters
hitched up the wagon. In the distance a police siren wailed, and a shudder went
over Bess at the sound.