The Search (16 page)

Secretly, Beth thought the same thing. Oh, not about being a police officer, but oftentimes she, too, thought she could have done a great many things in the outside world.

If that had been her calling.

His eyes were at half-mast now. “You better go. I'm about to fall asleep. I didn't get much rest last night.”

“They didn't let you sleep?”

One side of his mouth turned up. “I'm afraid not, Beth. I wasn't there as their guest.”

Embarrassed by her naiveté, she straightened and moved away from him. Though she ached to ask him exactly what happened, ached to discover how hurt he truly was, she knew he would never tell her. It was none of her business.

Realizing she'd stood too long at his side simply gazing at him and wishing that things were different, she clasped her hands together. “All right, then. I'll go now and let you rest. I'll see you when you wake up. Perhaps then you would like some soup? I can keep it warm for you.”

That half-smile appeared again. “Look at you, Beth. You really are turning into quite the innkeeper.”

“All I'm doing is offering soup, and anyone can open up a jar. Frannie canned at least two dozen jars of chicken noodle soup this past summer. It's good, I promise, and it will be sure to make you feel better.”

For a moment, something soft and sweet appeared in his eyes. Then he shook his head. “I won't be able to stay for soup, Beth.”

“Pardon me?” Surely she'd heard him wrong?

With a wince, he moved and pulled himself up to a sitting position. Looked at her directly. “Beth, in a few hours, I'll be gone. The only reason I haven't left yet is because my partner wants to pick me up. There's a lot that needs to be done and I'm going to need some support.”

“You're not going to stop and rest? Chris, you're hurt.”

“I can't, Beth. It's important that I do my job.”

She could understand that. Though it wasn't quite the same, she'd watched children even when she was tired or under the weather.

He winked. “And before you give me any advice, you should know my partner doesn't put up with much foolishness. If she doesn't think I can work by her side, she'll let me know.”

Her? “Your partner? She is a girl?”

“A woman, not a girl,” he replied with a wry grin. “Taylor would have my head if she heard I was referring to her as a girl.”

Beth couldn't begin to understand the innuendo. “But you are hurt, Chris.”

“Not too bad.” He sobered. “But even if I was, it's clear that I can't stay here in Crittenden County any longer.”

“Why not? Surely a day or two won't make a difference.”

“It's going to make all the difference. It's not safe for me or anyone here. I got the names of the men Perry reported to, and some of the details about their base of operations. But doing so cost a lot to the investigation.” His eyes turned haunted when he exhaled, then spoke again. “It's almost a certainty that my cover is blown.”

“But where will you go?” At the moment, she didn't care about her safety, only about his.

And perhaps about something else, too. There was something about him that had her heart and she wasn't ready to either analyze it or to let him go. All she wanted was to enjoy his company just a little bit longer.

“I'll head on home for a little bit. Then I'll get reassigned.” Lying back down, he added, “That's the usual thing that happens.”

“Where is your home? I don't even know.”

Instead of answering her, he merely stared at her. Silently begging her not to ask anything else.

Though she knew he was only doing what his job required of him. Though she knew he was keeping a careful distance between them, as was proper, she felt betrayed. Just yesterday, she'd thought there had been something special between them. “But Chris—”

“It's what has to happen, Beth.” He paused, then said, almost grudgingly, “You had to know that there could never be anything between us. It wasn't possible.”

Instead of making her feel worse—knowing he, too, had felt their curious connection—his words made her feel braver. “Where is home? You never told me.”

“I know.”

After a moment, she realized he wasn't going to tell her. He wasn't going to tell her more about himself, or about his past. He wasn't going to let her get to know him better.

Carefully, she gazed at him, trying to catalog every scar and mark and detail of him into her memory. “Is Chris even your real name?”

He swallowed. “Yeah.
Chris
is.”

But he didn't say that his last name really was Ellis.

“I'm sorry, Beth. I know you don't understand any of this. But I promise I didn't intend to hurt you. I tried to stay away from you.”

“Is that what you usually do? Stay to yourself? Stay private?”

“It's easier that way.” He lay back down with a wince. And Beth knew he wasn't going to be able to continue their conversation much longer. He was in pain and exhausted.

And her questions and worry weren't helping him. If anything, she was making things worse.

But sometimes a woman's heart and brain didn't work in sync. “Chris, do you think I'll ever see you again? Do you think we'll ever talk again?” Even as she heard the whine, the desperation in her voice, she felt a true despair. She hated sounding so weak.

But even more than that, she hated feeling . . . abandoned. And at a loss of what to do.

He took a breath. Seemed to hold it. Then exhaled with another direct stare. “No.”

He paused, then, seeming to have lost a battle with himself. “Listen, for what it's worth . . . you matter to me. I'm not going to lie and say I didn't feel anything for you. I do. I think you're just about the prettiest thing I've ever seen. And I admire your loyalty to your friend. But . . .”

“But I'm Amish and you're not?”

“Partly. But it's also because of who I am. I'm not a suitable boyfriend for any woman right now, no matter what her religion is or how her life is. I've come to accept it. I live my life undercover. I carry a gun . . . and I've used it, Beth. I'm not all that good of a man. I'm definitely not the kind of man you deserve.”

“That's not true. Those men, they hurt you because you are trying to do something good.”

“I'm trying to do a good thing in a very bad business,” he corrected. “Believe me, there's a difference.”

“Chris—”

He cut her off. “You take care, okay, Beth? Take care of yourself and find a decent man who will appreciate you. Find a guy who will let you be spunky and order him around a little bit.”

She was so hurt, she spoke without thinking. “But . . . but I don't want that guy.”

Mirth and a warmth that she'd never spied before lit his expression. “I'm really going to miss you.” And then, right before her eyes, he lay back down and closed his eyes.

Effectively removing himself.

Even though she still stood there, stunned.

When she realized he wasn't going to speak to her again . . . or even look her way, she turned and walked out. Closing a door had never felt so hard.

But she didn't get very far. Only two steps. Her mind was spinning and her feet felt like lead. She stood against the wall and tried not to cry.

Tried not to care.

But when she heard Chris walk to the door and lock it, she knew that everything he said was right.

Everything that had been between them was over. Over before it had ever begun.

Chapter 21

“Perry knew about my crush from the very beginning. More than once, he threatened to tell Jacob Schrock about my foolishness. Funny, I'm still surprised he never said a word.”

D
EBORAH
B
ORNTRAGER

L
uke had out a tape recorder and his usual pen and tablet. His expression was solemn. And for once, he didn't look harried around her, or distracted by the pain in his leg. Or eager to trade barbs with her. Instead, he was all business when he turned on the tape recorder and faced her across the kitchen table.

“All right. Let's begin. Tell me what really happened with those sunglasses, Frannie. Tell me exactly what Perry said when he tried to give them to you. And exactly how you replied.”

It was hard to imagine how one small incident could possibly change her life. Though Luke would be disappointed with her, the things that she remembered had little to do with the actual conversation about the sunglasses and more with her feelings of being betrayed by Perry.

Across from her, Luke snapped at the end of his ballpoint pen. The spring made a little sharp click with each hammer of his thumb.

The recorder was on and Luke was waiting.

She cleared her throat. “Perry gave me the sunglasses as a gift.” Going back to that day, she tried to think about the mixture of emotions she'd been feeling. It wasn't hard to remember that. She'd been anxious to get away from him. Perry had been suspicious, argumentative, and mean.

“Things between us had been rocky.” She looked at Luke. “I don't exactly know why I thought they wouldn't be. For most of our lives, he and Lydia Plank had been courting.”

“And you?”

“Me? Me, I'd been especially close with Micah.” She shrugged. “But there had been something about Perry that was special. Maybe I liked that he felt a little dangerous?” Opening herself up a little more, she said, “To be honest, I thought I could change Perry.”

“Change how?”

“I thought if he had me, I could guide him back to our ways. I thought if he loved me and if I loved him enough, he would forget about the drugs and the
Englischers,
and the outside world.” She cleared her throat, fighting back the thick feeling that always came when she remembered just how naïve she'd been. “Anyway, when were in that field, he'd tried to give the sunglasses to me. He acted like the gift was something special.”

He circled back to the original topic. “Tell me about the sunglasses.”

“Well, Perry said a friend of his had given him two pairs, but I didn't understand why he was giving one pair to me. The glasses were expensive and men's. I felt like him handing me that pair was a true sign that I was merely an afterthought in his life.”

She continued after swallowing down her disappointment. “After we talked for a little bit, and after he said he wanted to leave, both Crittenden County and our lifestyle, I was eager to put some distance between us.”

“Were you afraid he was going to hurt you?”

“No.”

“Sure about that?” He looked down at his notes. “You've said more than once that you had worried about his behavior . . .”

“I didn't fear him, didn't fear for my safety. But I was wary and uneasy around him. I don't know what I was feeling, if you want to know the whole truth. I was frightened of him because I didn't understand how he was acting. But I was also frightened of myself.” She paused, struggling to find the right words. “You have to know how I was feeling back in December.”

“How were you feeling?”

Tears of betrayal stung her eyes. She was so tired of reliving those moments, and so tired of feeling like she was failing in spite of her best intentions. “When Perry and I first started courting, I had hope, Luke,” she blurted. “That is what was different. I was still hopeful that everything between Perry and me would somehow work out. That eventually we would fall in love. I couldn't imagine that he had any other path to choose. I wanted to believe that he would stop taking drugs, and stop hanging around the dangerous-looking men. I thought if he really wanted to, he would change. If he'd just had a reason.”

“You wanted to be the reason.” His voice was softer—soft with understanding. But now, even his understanding didn't ease her hurts.

“Yes,” she said, though even saying that one word was a painful thing. “I hoped I mattered enough to make a difference with him. But I didn't.”

After a moment, he said, “Let me be sure I understand this. He wanted you to have the sunglasses . . .”

“He offered them to me, but I didn't want them.” Her cheeks burned as she remembered how shocked she'd been. She held up a hand. “And before you go about asking me why yet again, I'll tell you. Those sunglasses didn't seem like a gift to me. They were a symbol of everything that he'd become and I was not. They were an afterthought, turned and twisted around in order for him to get me to do something.”

Luke's head popped up, his eyes piercing. “He wanted you to leave the Amish,” he said softly.

Satisfied that she had his complete attention, Frannie continued. “Yes. But the thing of it is, he knew I wouldn't have left the order.”

“You'd never leave?”

“I would never leave . . . unless I knew, deep in my heart, that it was the right choice.” But Perry hadn't been the right person. At the end of the day, she knew that Perry had had no idea what would have made him happy.

Softly, she added, “I didn't want to change for him, Detective. I didn't want to be the kind of woman who would change herself for a man.” And though it was almost physically painful, she finished her thought. “I didn't want to be the kind of woman to change herself for a man like that.”

She sighed. “I ended up throwing those sunglasses into the woods. Then I turned and ran back through the Millers' farm.”

“Where did you go?”

“Home, of course. I was crying terribly.” Remembering how she'd passed Schrock's Variety through a haze of tears, she said, “I was so distraught, why I almost ran over poor Jacob Schrock.”

His eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Oh, it was nothing. He was sweeping the front walk of the store when I ran by.” Smiling at the memory she'd almost forgotten, she said, “He was worried about my tears. Angry at Perry for causing me pain. He even offered to walk me home, but I didn't want any company. I only wanted to be alone.” Bitterly, she smiled. “And I've been alone ever since.”

Her words seemed to echo in the room. They sounded sharp and bitter and sad. And maybe they were. She still had a lot of hurt inside her that she couldn't seem to come to grips with. And here she was, practically shaking with tension, she was trying so hard to keep a tight grip on herself.

And Luke was looking at her with new insight, as if he was suddenly seeing her for the first time. And maybe he was? Perhaps he was finally now seeing her for what she was. Not just an innkeeper. Not just a woman who'd dated a man for a brief amount of time.

Not just a faceless Amish woman, blending into the other women the tourists saw when they came to visit—making the mistake of imagining that all people of the Amish faith act the same way, or believe in the same exact things.

Or love the same way.

Perhaps now Luke saw her through clear eyes, and saw her for what she was. Just Frannie Eicher. No better and no worse. She was strong, but perhaps not strong enough to accomplish what was most important—to help Perry find his way back.

And because of that, no matter in how many ways she would succeed over the years, she was also a failure.

And now Luke knew it, too.

As he stared and her breathing slowed, and the lump in her throat grew, he stood up.

“Frannie, I need to go.”

She stood up, too, and approached him. Figuring she no longer had anything to lose, she said, “Am I the most naïve woman in the world, Luke? Did I simply imagine Perry and I could ever be happy?” She took a breath and continued. “Did I just imagine that there was something between us as well?”

He hadn't moved. His expression was frozen, as if it was taking everything he had not to show emotion.

“I don't know about you and Perry. As for us?” He shook his head. “You didn't imagine it,” he murmured. Reaching out, he clasped one of her hands. Tugged her a little closer. “There's something about you that draws me close, Frannie. Something that I can't seem to stay away from.”

“Then don't stay away.”

There. She'd said it. She'd put her feelings out in the open, just waiting for him to take them to his heart and hold them close.

Something dark flickered in his eyes. And to her surprise, he bent slightly and brushed his lips against hers.

Happiness coursed through her. Everything was going to work out. Somehow, someway, she was going to have Luke. No, they were going to have each other.

“Frannie, I'm a cop. I'm still investigating this murder. Even though there's something special between us, I don't think anything can ever become of it. Before long, I'll be back in Cincinnati . . . and all of this between us will just be a memory.”

She didn't bother to say a word as he looked at her one last time with regret, then turned and walked out the door.

When she was alone, she lay down on the couch and cried. As usual, she'd misread the man she was interested in. Yet again, she'd begun to have feelings for a man who didn't deserve them. She'd thought that a man's smiles meant more; that his desire to visit with her meant that he liked her. She'd imagined that holding hands and exchanging flirty glances were signs of tender feelings. But she'd been wrong. To Luke, she was only a suspect. Her feelings only mattered if they gave him clues.

And now that he had gotten the whole story?

He, like Perry, was gone.

P
ippa's parents had picked her up early, giving Deborah an unexpected few hours of freedom.

Well, freedom of a sort. True freedom would mean she could relax at home and read or do some needlework. Maybe work in the garden a little bit. But being home meant that she would be in her mother's company—and, like always, that was anything but relaxing.

Her mother was spiraling downward, deeper into depression. Though she tried her best to make a meal or to spend an hour or two with Deborah, more often than not she had taken to bed. Preferring the dark silence instead of the glaring reality of daylight. When she did engage with her family, her mother could only speak of one thing—darling Perry and how upset she was that everyone was saying such hateful things about him. As the days passed, her mother seemed to enjoy reinventing Perry. No longer had he been slightly lazy as a child. No, he'd always been a hard worker.

No longer had he been a picky eater or had a penchant for sneaking Hershey bars.

No, he had been perfect. He certainly hadn't had a drug problem. And he never, ever would have encouraged others to take drugs.

It didn't matter that Sheriff Kramer had proof. It didn't matter if other people came forward with stories about Perry. As far as they were concerned, people were being disrespectful because Perry had passed away and couldn't offer excuses.

And besides, no one should ever speak poorly of the dead. Especially if the dead was a beloved son.

Deborah was finding it increasingly difficult to talk about Perry with her parents. The more stories that surfaced about his behavior, the deeper they went into denial. To even attempt to correct their delusions was an invitation to punishment from her father.

And their anger about Mose and Detective Reynolds was reaching epic proportions. They firmly placed all blame on those two men's shoulders, imagining that somehow Mose should have known what Perry had been sneaking around doing. And that they should have solved the crime in a matter of hours, not days or weeks.

Deborah wasn't sure what the right answers were. But she did know that everything with Perry had been complicated. Complicated enough not to be untangled without a lot of cooperation from everyone who had been involved in Perry's life.

So she escaped. The day was lovely and the fresh air invigorating. She walked to the park, and was just about to head over to the library when she spied Lydia Plank and Walker Anderson sitting on the swings together.

Lydia spied her and smiled, then waved her over.

After a brief hesitation, Deborah joined them. The community's newest couple seemed perfect for each other in many ways . . . except for their very different lifestyles. Most folks Deborah knew were keeping their guesses about their religious differences—and their concerns about what would happen to them in the future—to themselves. At the moment, Deborah had heard that Walker was still going to the Congregational Church with his family while Lydia continued to go to church with her family.

“Welcome back,” Lydia said when Deborah got closer. “Walker, you know Deborah, don't you?”

“Yep.” He smiled. “I saw her in the store the other day, as a matter of fact.”

The reminder of being around Jacob caused Deborah to clear her throat. “How are those puppies?”

He laughed. “Mr. Schrock has already sold two! I never would have imagined that he'd have much luck selling those dogs.”

“They're really more like small horses,” Deborah said.

“Perhaps that's why they're selling?”

“Who knows? At least they're penned up and cute. I don't always care for some of Mr. Schrock's ideas.”

Lydia spoke up. “How are you, Deborah?” she asked kindly. “It's been quite a time since our paths have crossed. Is your family all right?”

“Yes. They are fine.” But as she met Lydia's gaze, Deborah knew her lie had been caught. She flushed, knowing she was behaving like her mother. “I mean, we are doing our best.” She shrugged.