“You didn’t ask?”

  “Oh, I asked,” she said, looking down their otherwise empty row. “She just couldn’t seem to stop humming long enough to answer.”

  Bill’s soft laugh eased the tension in her shoulders. “I did some humming myself this morning. Trust me.”

  “I do.”

  And she did. There was something about Bill that just rang true all the way across the board. The fact that his very appearance in the kitchen doorway the previous evening had garnered such a sweet and hope-filled smile from her aunt was simply the icing on the cake. Now all that remained to be seen was whether Bill might truly be—

  “So this visit . . . With Esther having you and Rebecca over at the same time . . . Maybe by meeting her and getting to know her a little bit, you’ll be able to quiet some of those worries you have. And who knows, maybe you’ll even discover they’re a perfect match—she and your friend, Ben.”

  “That’s all I’ve ever wanted for him.” She surveyed the rows in front and behind their own, then took in the mourners gathered around the easel-mounted picture boards. “Where is Aunt Diane? I haven’t seen her since I sat down.”

  “She shooed me over to check on you when she spotted someone named Harold heading in our direction.”

  “Ahhh, okay. I can just make out the side of Harold’s face back there by the hallway but I couldn’t tell who he was talking to.” She patted Bill’s hand. “This’ll be a while.”

  Bill’s brow lifted in amusement. “He’s a talker, I take it?”

  “If it was an Olympic event, he’d get the gold. Every. Single. Time.” She savored the lighthearted moment and the chance it gave her to catch her breath on what had been a nonstop kind of day. “Harold Glick owns the hardware store two doors down from my shop. He is a sweet, sweet man who loves to eat, loves to talk tools and gadgetry, and takes his self-appointed role as town gossip very, very seriously.”

  “Yeah, but she already knows about”—Bill nudged his chin and Claire’s focus toward the receiving line—“this, so what else could he possibly share about Heavenly that’s taking this long?”

  “I’m guessing he started with this gossip or that gossip, but I’m willing to bet that by now, it’s not about what he’s saying so much as it is about what he can get her to say.”

  Bill pulled a face. “About?”

  “You.”

  “Me?” Bill echoed.

  “Harold is sharp. He knows all, sees all. He probably recognized you from your last visit to Heavenly the second you walked in the door tonight.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “Now he’s just trying to get the scoop on why you’re back, and what it means.” Claire tapped her watch and then her chin. “Which means, conservatively speaking, of course, that every single one of my fellow shopkeepers along Lighted Way will know who you are, where you’re from, how long you stayed last time you were in town, what you do for a living, and what your favorite dinner is by nine thirty tomorrow morning.”

  Running his hand along his clean-shaven jawline, Bill glanced back at Harold. “So what you’re telling me is I need to go tool shopping tomorrow morning.”

  “Tool shopping? No, I’m not saying that. Harold is a good guy. A gossip, yes, but no one you have to worry about or give a hard time.”

  Bill drew back. “I’m not suggesting I’d stop by his store to give him a hard time. I’m just thinking he might have something good to tell me, too.”

  “About yourself?” she asked, laughing.

  “No. About your aunt.”

  Folding her arms, she eyed her companion. “If you want to know something about my aunt, ask her . . . or me. You don’t have to ask Harold.”

  “But Olympic gold medalists are good at what they do. Which means he should be able to tell me if I’ve got a chance.”

  “A chance?” When she saw a few heads turn in their direction from the vicinity of the picture boards, she lowered her voice to a near-whisper. “A chance with what?”

  “Your aunt.”

  She dug her teeth into her lower lip in an effort to stop her answering grin, but it was no use. “You don’t need a gold medalist to tell you that.”

  Hope pushed his left eyebrow practically to his hairline. “I don’t?”

  “Nope. In fact, any old gift shop owner can tell you that.”

  “Any old gift shop owner, eh?” At her slow, drawn-out nod, he leaned closer. “Well? Do I have a chance?”

  “Yes, Bill, you most certainly have a chance—a good chance, in . . .” Her words trailed off as the movement of several heads around them led her eyes back to the receiving line and the young Amish couple approaching a clearly surprised, yet equally touched Jakob. “Oh. Wow. I . . . I guess I didn’t think they’d come.”

  Bill, too, looked forward. “That’s your friend Esther, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. With her husband, Eli. But I don’t see the baby . . . They must have left her with Esther’s mother, Martha.” She inched forward on her chair and then stood. “I’m sorry, but I probably should say hello once they’re done paying their respects to Jakob. I’ll be right back.”

  “I understand. Go.” Bill waved her toward her friends and then glanced back at Harold. “Maybe I should rescue your aunt . . .”

  “I think that’s a great idea.” Without really thinking, she kissed him on the forehead and then turned and made her way down the aisle toward the picture boards. She traded subdued smiles with a few familiar faces and then positioned herself in a spot where Eli and Esther would be sure to see her after viewing Russ’s body.

  While she waited, she, too, found herself looking toward the open casket and the man who had been both a mentor and a father figure of sorts for Jakob. So much of Jakob’s adult life had been spent mourning familial relationships he could no longer have because of his decision to leave his Amish roots. To see him lose yet another important person from his life was downright painful.

  “Claire? Are you okay? I waved to you as soon as I saw you but you did not wave back.”

  Shaking her thoughts back into the present, she greeted Esther with a kiss and Eli with a nod-smile combination. “I’m sorry. I was standing here specifically so you’d see me when you finished with the receiving line and the viewing, and then I disappeared into my head. Sorry about that.”

  Esther smoothed her hands down the sides of her navy blue dress and peeked back at Jakob, her expression stricken. “My uncle . . . He looks so sad.”

  “Because he is.” She, too, watched Jakob as he spoke quietly with yet another mourner before she turned back to her friends. “But having the two of you here, showing him your support, surely means a lot to him, as it does me. So thank you for that. I know you probably could get in trouble for being here . . .”

  Eli inhaled himself to his full height. “Once, when I was young, Jakob’s friend there”—he nudged his chin in the direction of the open casket—“found one of Dat’s goats wandering around behind the police station and brought her back to the farm. He stayed and helped Benjamin and me fix the hole in the fence she’d used to get out.”

  “Yah. That is why we are here.” Esther’s hands moved quickly to her kapp and the lone strand of hair trying its best to escape. “It is why Elmer and Miriam were to come, too.”

  “You mean the new minister and his wife?”

  “Yah. Eli told them of Mr. Granger’s help when we were leaving to come here and Elmer said they would come, too. But just before we got here, we saw John’s oldest.”

  “Bontrager?” Claire asked.

  Nodding, Eli stroked the front of the nearly year-old beard that served as his wedding ring. “John sent Amos to town for something and he was coming back when we passed.”

  “He was carrying a box that was very big,” Esther added. “He almost fell into a ditch because he could not see where he was going.”

  “If he did not look at us the way he did when both buggies passed, he would not have been so close to the ditch,” Eli countered.

  Shrugging, Esther lowered herself onto a nearby chair and brought her eyes, if not her words, back to her uncle. “That is when Miriam and Elmer turned back. He said it was getting dark and he could not sleep if he did not know the boy had gotten home.”

  “He’ll be okay, Esther.”

  Esther turned back to Claire, confusion tugging at her features. “I know. It was not a long drive.”

  “I’m not talking about the Bontrager boy.” Taking the chair next to her friend’s, Claire slid her arm around the young mother’s shoulders. “I’m talking about your uncle. I know you’re worried about him and so am I. But I can tell you with absolute certainty that you and Eli being here tonight helped more than you can ever know.”

  Esther leaned her cheek against Claire’s. “We did not come because of a goat.”

  “I know, sweetie. I know.”

  Chapter 16

  They were out on the country road, heading away from Heavenly, when she finally broke the silence, the uncertainty she felt manifesting itself in a raspy whisper she tried to cough away. “I know how hard that must have been for you tonight.”

  “It was beyond hard, Claire. Like I’m playing a role in some show instead of actually being at my friend’s visitation.” He pulled his hand down the center of his face, rasping a breath as he did. “I mean, we’re talking about Russ here. Russ Granger. He was practically bulletproof, you know?”

  Nodding, she reached for his hand. “I’m so sorry, Jakob. I wish there was something I could do.”

  “There is and you’re already doing it.” He threaded his fingers through hers just long enough to lift them to his lips. “Being able to look up from time to time during the visitation and see you there helped more than you can possibly know.”

  He lowered her hand back to the top of his thigh and then returned his own to the steering wheel. “He would have loved you, Claire.”

  “I wish I’d had the chance to meet him.”

  “So do I.” He let up on the gas as they rounded the corner and came upon a familiar orange triangle blinking in the darkness. Claire waved to the Amish buggy driver as they passed and then turned back to Jakob as he accelerated once again. “I feel so bad for Callie. Aside from her kids, she really doesn’t have any family left. And as if the grief of losing her dad isn’t enough, she’s got some anger mixed up in there, too.”

  “Maybe when you catch the person who did this, she’ll get to unleash some of that anger in a courtroom. They let loved ones address the killer sometimes now, don’t they?”

  “That’s assuming I catch him.”

  She squeezed his thigh. “You already have two people on your watch list.”

  “Two?”

  “Tom Shaunessy and Callie’s ex, Kyle.”

  “I’m not so sure on the ex after seeing him tonight.”

  “He was there? At the visitation?”

  Jakob nodded. “He sat in a chair off to the side for most of the night. I was surprised to see him show up, but Callie said it was okay for him to stay, that he’s been checking in on her and the kids since it happened. And I have to admit, every time I looked at him tonight, I saw nothing but concern for Callie.”

  “Okay, so maybe it’s just Tom for now. Maybe you’ll come across someone else, too. But either way, you’ll find the person who did this, Jakob, and Callie will get to speak her mind. Have faith.”

  He opened his mouth as if to protest and then looked back at the road. “Even if I catch the person who did this and Callie gets her day in court, there’s still a different anger. At Russ . . . At herself . . . At all the moments she can’t go back and redo, and all the moments they won’t have to try and do better.”

  “Did they have a strained relationship?” she asked as he passed yet another buggy on the dark, otherwise deserted road.

  “Not in the way it probably sounds. Russ adored Callie and her mother. Adored them. But he was distracted a lot. With work. Both his and, sometimes—no, many times—others’.”

  Her answering laugh was void of any real humor. “When I was younger and a teacher assigned a group project for a class, I had a tendency to do everyone’s part in addition to my own just so I could know everything would be done. I guess I just didn’t want to be penalized for someone else’s poor time management or preference for fooling around instead of working.

  “I think I even did it at the store in the beginning, with Esther, and again when Annie first started. Fortunately, I stopped with both of them once I saw what kind of work ethic they had and that they cared about the shop as much as I did. Still, I guess some might see me as a bit of a control freak.”

  “It’s your store, it makes sense you’d care about all the details.”

  “But maybe that’s all it was with Russ, too,” she mused. “Caring about the details. I would imagine you’d have to be pretty dedicated to your job to work your way up from patrolman to department chief, yes?”

  “Absolutely. And he did that. But it’s like I told you the other day. It didn’t stop when he retired.” He took a left where the road teed with another and, soon, lights began to appear out the window, a clear sign they were leaving the quiet, predominantly Amish-inhabited areas.

  She pointed at a house already decorated for Halloween despite the nearly five-week gap, and then brought her full attention back on the handsome man in the driver’s seat. “I know that the whole workaholic thing can be destructive, it’s what eroded my marriage to Peter. But you heard Diane the other night. She said Russ and Callie’s mom were Callie’s lifeline during her divorce. Surely that means he didn’t completely block her out . . .”

  “Callie respects everything her father did, and she respects the sacrifices he made and was prepared to make for the public’s safety, if necessary. But it was the stuff he didn’t have to do, the time she didn’t have to lose with him that rankles most, I think.”

  “Meaning?” she asked.

  “Meaning, like Saturday evening after he got back from Murphy’s . . . Callie was awake. She called to him to come in. But he said he was tired.”

  “Okay . . .”

  “The files on the table . . . the opened can of soda . . . the bowl of chips in that garage apartment say otherwise.”

  “Maybe he thought he could sleep but then couldn’t. That happens to me all the time. Maybe he figured rather than toss and turn, he’d get some work done.”

  Jakob slid a knowing look in her direction. “Oh, there’s no doubt about that. The files alone say that. But here’s the rub for Callie. The reason for some of her anger. Those files had nothing to do with Russ or his department. He was just going over old reports from various parts of the country, just like he always did.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I saw them with my own two eyes when I was going through the apartment Sunday night. I, of course, almost laughed when I saw them because it was so him, you know? But for Callie? Those files stirred a very different emotion.”

  “Meaning?” she prodded.

  “She’s angry. Because, in her mind, he left her feeling as if he loved playing cop more than he loved being a dad.”

  “Oh.” She sagged her shoulders into the back of the seat and let her head loll back a little, too. “Wow.”

  “Yeah.”

  At a loss for what to say, she simply looked at Jakob and waited for the part of the story he’d yet to share, a part clearly weighing on him if the lines etched across his forehead were any indication.

  “She said she wanted him to come in because the kids were asleep and she felt like reminiscing about her childhood—memories of her with her mom and dad.”

  “And he turned her down.”

  Jakob squared his jaw in conjunction with a sigh. “And he turned her down.”

  “I can’t believe he meant any harm. Especially knowing, from you, what kind of man he was.”

  “He didn’t. And deep down, I have to believe Callie knows that.” He decreased his speed and moved onto the shoulder as the neon green sign for Murphy’s came up on their right. With a turn of the wheel, he pulled into the lot and quickly located a parking spot not too far from the door. “She says she wishes he’d chosen a Dad Moment over a Cop Moment for once. So, if nothing else, she could have that memory to hold on to right now.”

  “Is there anything you think I can do for her? I know Aunt Diane knows her, but I’m not sure we’ve ever met. If we have, it was in passing.”

  He pulled the key from the ignition and looked out at Murphy’s, a distinct cloud passing across his face. “Right now, I want to go inside and see what we can find out about Russ’s time here on Saturday night. Tomorrow, on the way to the funeral, maybe we can come up with something we can do to help Callie out a little. Maybe we can invite her out for coffee with us one night, or offer to watch the kids so she can take a little time to herself. Sound good?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Then, let’s go inside.” He pushed open his door and stepped onto the pavement, his gaze moving between the people coming and going from Murphy’s front door and the cars parked to their left and right. When she joined him on his side of the car, he guided her toward the door. “We’re just going to go inside, sit at the bar, and see if tonight’s bartender happens to be the same one who was working when Russ was here.”

  She walked through the door he held open, the quiet of the early-autumn evening wiped away by the sounds of billiards being played, glasses being clanked against one another, raucous laughter, and people jockeying for attention by being louder than everyone else. By instinct, she started to back up, to reverse course back to the parking lot, but Jakob’s calming touch on the small of her back helped her to stand tall. Sure, if she had her druthers, they’d be settling in at their favorite two-person table in Heavenly Brews, ready to talk the rest of the evening away. But this stop wasn’t about talking—not to each other, anyway. This was about listening and observing.

 

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