Missing with Bonus Material: The Secrets of Crittenden County, Book One (9 page)

Chapter 10

“I remember when Perry and Lydia broke up. He told me it was her fault, but I never really believed that.”

W
ALKER
A
NDERSON

W
alker wished he was anywhere but where he was.

“Do I need to be English, too?”

Lydia Plank was gazing at him like he was some kind of hero, when the truth was he’d never be anyone’s hero. Not with all the things he’d done in his life.

He grabbed the last piece of pizza and bit off a big bite, needing the time to figure out what to say. “I don’t know the answer to that.” When Lydia flinched, he closed his eyes. He was sorry he’d frightened her, but still feeling completely out of his element. “Lydia, look . . . I’m just a guy from a small town in Kentucky. I’m not Amish; I’m not even close to being sophisticated. My big life event was playing in the state championships in high school. Why would you think I would know what you should do?”

Her cheeks turned rosy. “Since you know a lot of English girls, I thought maybe you could tell if I had something in common with English girls our age. And that maybe then I would have an idea of what I should do.”

“Well, I don’t. I’m not some expert on Amish and English, or even American teenagers. I only agreed to meet because I thought you wanted to talk about Perry.”

As her face clouded with uneasiness, he blurted, “There’s no news, is there? The last thing the detective told me was that they were questioning Perry’s friends.”

She leaned back in her chair. “Was that what I was? For a time, I thought I was his sweetheart.”

“Then you broke up?”

“
Jah.
I hadn’t talked to him for some time.”

“I hadn’t, either,” Walker said wistfully. “But I told the detective I didn’t know what Perry had been doing before he went missing.”

“But you knew. Right?”

There was more to her question than he was prepared to answer. And so he pushed the questions back to her. “Why? Where did you think he’d disappeared to after New Year’s?”

She blinked. “I thought he went to Lexington. Maybe even St. Louis.”

“I did, too. He was sick of being here. Once I heard him talk about meeting some guys from out of town.”

“I saw him with some of those men.” She shivered. “They looked so different from us. They had on fancy clothes and sunglasses.” Leaning forward, she whispered, “I don’t know if those were the people who were selling him drugs.”

“Yeah,” he shook his head, not sure what to say.

“Did you ever tell anyone?”

He’d told the detective, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. “No way. It wasn’t like I knew anything for sure.”

“I never said anything, either,” she admitted. “It felt wrong to say things like that about a boy I had loved. Plus, I wasn’t even sure anyone would believe me. I didn’t have proof.”

He swallowed. It made him uncomfortable to realize that they had something in common. It was easier thinking about how pretty she was when she was practically a stranger. It was easier imagining what it would be like to have her look at him in a soft way, when he knew they were worlds apart.

After looking around, fearful for a moment that everyone had stopped minding their own business and was listening to their conversation, he leaned forward. “Once, he said he’d smoked something to have more energy.” Remembering the conversation, he said, “He acted like it was the best thing in the world. He offered to give me some to try.”

Her eyes turned to saucers. “And what did you say?”

“I said I wasn’t interested.” He was afraid it was meth—there had been no way he’d get near that. “I’m not into drugs. I don’t even drink.” She looked so worried, he had a sudden thought. “Hey, did he ever offer you anything?”

She shook her head. “Never. But he started drifting away from me. From us. From everything we believe in.” She paused, her eyes widening. “I mean everything Amish.”

“Did you ever talk to anyone about Perry?”

Her expression turned troubled. “When I was seeing Perry, I pulled away from my girlfriends. They didn’t like him, you see.”

“But you did?”

She shrugged. “I thought I did. I wanted to; I’d known him forever. And my parents had encouraged us. They thought he was still the same, you see.”

Now he understood. She felt like she was completely alone. The guy she’d once trusted was gone. Her parents had encouraged her to date a guy who’d been lying to just about everyone. And then it turned out that they’d been lying to her, too. Now her siblings weren’t even her real siblings.

That was why she’d forced herself to see him. Because he was one of the few people who had been honest with her. “You know, my grandfather says it’s not who you are that makes a person, it’s what you believe.”

“Walker, I’m not even sure what I believe anymore. I don’t know who I am, and I don’t even know who to trust.”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that she could trust him. But he held the words back. After all, they hardly knew each other.

After sipping her drink again, she opened her purse and pulled out a ten-dollar bill. “Thank you for meeting me here, Walker.”

“You can pay next time. Put the money away. I’ve got this.”

She turned to him in surprise. “Next time?”

Walker knew he should feel relief. She didn’t want another thing from him. She didn’t want to meet him again.

He should feel happy. Really glad. They’d lived this long in Crittenden County without crossing paths all that much. There was no need to see her again or to deepen their friendship.

But as he looked at her, and as he thought about Abby and how lost she always seemed to be, he knew he had to do something. For whatever reason, their lives were now intertwined because they’d once known Perry. And if he knew anything, it was that God didn’t do anything without a reason.

“Look, we never got our stories straight about that night at Schrock’s. Meet me tomorrow at Stanton Park.”

She shook her head. “Walker, there are a lot of people there. Already, I’m sure everybody’s wondering what the two of us would have to talk about.”

“The park will be crowded. No one would notice us.” It was true. Stanton Park wasn’t known to be a hangout for Amish or for college students. No, it was a place where people down on their luck hung out.

She bit her lip. “I don’t know . . .”

“Look, it’s the only place for us. It’s close. No one will see us. No one will know. It will be our secret.”

Apprehension flashed in her eyes before she slowly nodded. “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow at the park at four o’clock. I think I had better go now.”

“Wait a minute. Aren’t you going to let me drive you home?”

“There’s no need.”

“But with my truck, it’s no problem to take you home. It’s not out of my way at all.”

“I’ve already taken up enough of your time.”

“Driving won’t take me long at all.”

She smiled softly. “I imagine it wouldn’t. But I’d rather walk.”

After setting her napkin on the table, she slid out of the booth and walked out, her back straight in her royal blue dress. Her head held high with a perfectly creased white
kapp
covering her light brown hair.

Never looking back.

B
y now, Luke had interviewed over twenty people about Perry. From what he could discern, Perry Borntrager had been both a pillar of the community and the worst sort of bully. He’d been kind to animals and small children, but had taunted them as well.

He’d been always amenable and patient. He’d also been mean and irresponsible and difficult.

For all these reasons, no one liked him.

But everyone was really sad he was dead.

Luke was growing more frustrated by the day, and more certain that his time was being wasted. “Mose, I think I might be going soon,” he said as they left Mose’s office, one half of a trailer behind the bank building. It was raining again. He’d put on his ball cap from the police academy but had refrained from putting on his slicker.

The light rain pattered against his flannel plaid shirt and cotton twill slacks. Mose had on a ball cap that read “Ice Road Truckers” and was dressed in loose jeans, a tan sheriff’s uniform shirt, and a red down vest. Luke figured that this was the first time in a while that they looked alike. Their strides matched, both easy and measured; instead of looking like a Kentucky Mennonite and a city guy from Cincinnati, he and Mose looked like a pair of friends.

Much like they’d looked when back at the academy.

“Wish you wouldn’t,” Mose muttered.

“Staying here would only be a disservice to you. Fact is, I’m not making much headway.” Thinking about the hours of useless conversation he’d had, where the Amish men and women had talked in circles, practically daring him to delve into their personal world just so they could shoot him down. “Actually, I’m afraid I might be making things worse.”

Mose glanced his way. “How so?”

“People are clamming up the moment I get near them,” he said grudgingly. Feeling like the worst sort of rookie. “Or, even worse, they’re telling all kinds of stories about Perry that don’t add up. One minute it seems like the kid was a saint. Other times, that he was the worst sort of sinner.”

“That sounds like most of us, don’tcha think?” Mose chuckled.

Luke was not amused. He was frustrated and sitting here admitting his faults. “Mose, I’m trying to say that I think you would do better without me.”

“I disagree. Yes, you’re a stranger here, but I know you’ll see some connections that I’ve been missing. Here in Crittenden County, our whole lives are intertwined; it’s hard to sometimes tell the good from the bad. Things might be making more sense than you realize.”

“The information I’m getting and recording is only going to confuse your investigation.”

As they walked along the sidewalk, Mose nodded to the few people they passed. Tipping the bill of his cap at a pair of elderly ladies; smiling at a pair of shy Amish girls—who didn’t look Luke’s way for even a second.

“Maybe not. Maybe you’re helping more than you’ll ever know.”

“I doubt that.” Even as he said the words, Luke wanted to cringe. He wasn’t the type of man to whine like this. Or to give up easily.

But he was the type of man who dealt with realities. And the reality was that he was destined to remain a fish out of water. The majority of his experience was on the city streets and alleys of Cincinnati. He was used to informers and snitches and a whole team of forensic specialists to appear at a moment’s notice. Driving around the hills and valleys and woods in the county, talking with
Englischers
who rarely talked to their Amish neighbors or to the Amish who were so entrenched in their farms, families, and community that they weren’t aware of other’s gossip was difficult at best.

And while he didn’t mind a difficult investigation, he did mind failing.

“I appreciate your honesty. I do for sure,” Mose replied, sounding much like the Amish man he’d grown up as. “But I promise you this, I wouldn’t have asked you here if I didn’t think it would help, Luke.” Mose didn’t wait for an answer as they increased their pace, crossing the street and heading toward the veterans memorial. When they stopped in front of a trio of crosses, he spoke again. “I still believe that it will.”

“You sure you want to bet on that? I’m costing you time.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. Besides, if you don’t help me, what else are you going to do while you recuperate? Sit in front of the TV and watch Sports Center?”

Luke had no doubt that his friend had used the TV reference on purpose. Back at the academy when they were roommates, they’d watched endless hours of Sports Center when their bodies were too tired to take another step and their minds were too tired to study another law, citation, or procedure.

Mose had only been two years out of his Amish community, and still had an almost whimsical appreciation for all things ESPN. He’d grown as attached to Sports Center as any preschooler with
Dora the Explorer.
In a way, the two of them had bonded while watching it.

Luke was just about to tell Mose that not even that reminder could soften his stance when nearby a pair of teenagers opened a truck’s back cab, and stealthily pulled out a couple of six-packs of beer and not very discretely stuffed them under their hoodies. The high school’s name was proudly printed on those sweatshirts, practically beckoning any and all law-enforcement officers to crack down on underage drinking.

Seeing the kids act so foolishly—and knowing he could do something about it—almost gave Luke a rush of pleasure. “Guess we could go take care of some business, huh?”

A slow smile lit Mose’s face while they watched yet another two kids scurry out of the truck, one with what looked to be a full bottle of Kentucky bourbon nestled in his arms like a baby. “Your leg up for it? This could get squirrely.”

He patted his brace. “I’m up for it, no problem.”

“Then I’d be obliged.” Raising his voice, Mose called out, “Boys, you want to tell me what in the Sam Hill you’re doing?”

Luke groaned as the kids started running. “Somehow, I figured they’d do that. I got the one on the right.”

“You’re only taking one?”

“I’m good, but I’m injured.”

“Oh, fine.” As they all took off, Mose called out, “Jeremy? Is that you?”

A pause, then a hoarse, squeaky reply floated through the air. “Yes, sir.”

Some things never changed, Luke thought to himself as he picked up his pace and grabbed the boy on the right. “Don’t even think about tackling me, son,” he said as clearly as possible. “If you make me be on crutches again, you’ll be arrested for assault on a police officer.”

Only later, after the boys had been taken to the police station, parents had been summoned, and more than a little fear had been put into a pair of fifteen-year-olds, did Mose bring up Perry again.

“I know he was dealing, Luke,” Mose said, his voice heavy with certainty. “I know he was dealing, and he was making a whole lot of people in this community miserable while he was selling that poison to them. I want to know what he was doing, and I want to know who thought they were justified in killing him. Someone was really angry. Someone was angry enough to kill the kid and stuff him in a well. I want to know who did it, Luke. I want to know it enough to risk everything.”