The Search The Secrets of Crittenden Cou

Chapter 11




“When Perry was twelve, he broke his collarbone jumping out of a hayloft on a dare. I could be wrong, but I do believe that’s the last time he was seen by the doctor. Until he died, of course.”

SHERIFF MOSE KRAMER




Beth, dear, you don’t look too well.”

Leave it to her mother to be brutally honest. That was okay, though. Beth loved her mother’s honesty. “As a matter of fact, I’m not feeling too well. My legs are sore, my shoulders have knots in them, and I’m so, so tired. Being an innkeeper is not for me, Mamm.”

“Poor Beth. Perhaps we should find you some help. Who do you think could lend you a hand at Frannie’s inn?”

“There is no one else. I would never betray my promise to Frannie by passing on this job.”

“Do you want me to come help you?”

“No, Mamm. I want you to stay here and take care of yourself.” Her mother had been diagnosed with MS years ago. For most of her life, it had lain dormant, with only minor flare-ups. But lately, she’d been showing more and more signs of being tired and having blurry vision.

Beth alternated between pretending that nothing was wrong and trying to convince her beautiful mother to do less.

“I’m feeling pretty good this week.”

“Then we should celebrate that instead of making you work harder. I’ll be fine. I just miss being around the kinner, that’s all.”

“I’m glad you enjoy babysitting, but you need to have some kinner of your own one day.” What went unsaid was that she wanted Beth to be happily married with a home and family before her health got worse.

But even thinking about that day made her sad. How had this conversation gone from innkeeping to her lack of children? “You know there’s no one special in my life.”

“There could be if you would be more open-minded. Beth, you should give the men in our community another chance.”

This was a common bit of advice that her mother brought up with surprising regularity. “Love doesn’t work that way. I have to feel something special for the man in my life.”

“How do you know if you will, if you don’t give any one a chance?”

“I will, one day. In its own time, Mamm. Don’t push.”

Immediately, her sweet-tempered mother backed off. “I’m sorry. It’s just that looking around again worked for Frannie. One day she and Perry decided they wanted to be closer.” Beth knew her mother had found Frannie and Perry’s brief relationship a great matter of interest. It didn’t seem to matter to her that Perry had turned out to be a terrifically bad person to fall in love with.

“I’ll find the right man for me one day, Mamm. And in the meantime, I have a gut job helping to take care of other people’s children. They need help and I enjoy getting paid for something that I’m good at.”

“You’re right, of course. I just can’t help but wonder . . .” Her mother stopped herself with a sad look in her eyes and changed the subject. Looking her over, she added, “So, how many guests are at the Yellow Bird Inn right now?”

“There were three, but now we’re down to just one.”

“Only one? Well, perhaps that won’t be too hard.” Leaning forward, her mother’s face lit up. “Now, you know how much I enjoy hearing about your days. Where is the guest from? Is she nice?”

“Oh, it’s not a woman, it’s a man. An Englischer.” She smiled softly, because just thinking about him made her tingly.

The expectant look faded. “The guest is a man? Dear, is it safe for you to be alone with him?”

“Very safe. He’s a nice man.” She paused, then divulged her secret, just because she knew it would make her mother smile. “He’s mighty handsome, too.”

“Oh.” She paused. “Oh?”

“He has light blue eyes, the color of the winter sky. And somewhat shaggy blond hair that is the color of wheat.”

Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Winter sky eyes? Wheat-colored hair? He sounds mighty nature-like. And you two have talked?”

“Oh, jah. We’ve talked a bit. He’s come to the kitchen while I’ve been cooking.”

Her mother’s lips curved into a wry smile. “Visiting you in the kitchen, hmm? He must be a mighty brave man.”

“Ha, ha.” Sobering, she said, “I am having a fearful time cooking. But I’m doing my best.”

“That’s all anyone can ask for, Beth.” Clucking her tongue a bit, she turned the conversation back to the man. “There’s nothing wrong with looking at a handsome man. Or even chatting with him from time to time. But don’t get your head turned. You need to find a man interested in sharing your life with you . . . not taking you away from everything you know and love.”

“I hear you, Mother.”

“Now, you promise there isn’t anything I can help you with there?”

“No, Mamm. You need to stay home. I hate to think of you worrying yourself on my account.”

“Oh, I’m glad for the excuse to leave the house. Besides, worrying about daughters is what mothers do. One day you’ll realize that. If, you know, you ever find yourself a man. An Amish man. Who lives here. That is the man for you.”

“Yes, Mamm. I hear you.”

And she certainly did hear her. And she agreed with everything her mother said, too. Finding a man who was Amish who wanted to live nearby and have a household of children sounded like a good plan.

It just wasn’t that easy to do. Especially since no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about Chris.

Frannie had barely recovered from Micah’s visit when Sheriff Kramer poked his head through the curtain.

It was somewhat disconcerting to see him peer at her without a word.

She nodded her head slightly and felt the tug of the bandages around her eye. For a moment there, lost in the haze of the medication, she’d forgotten her injury. “Hello, Sheriff Kramer.”

The sheriff’s sun-weathered face creased into a smile. “I am glad you are awake. The nurses weren’t sure if you would be up to talking with me.” He looked her over. “Are you?”

“I can talk with you, for sure.” But even as she said the words, she felt her body fill with dread. Sheriff Kramer had come to the hospital for a reason.

The sheriff sauntered closer and took the seat next to her bedside. “Did you know you’re frowning? That’s not good. We need to turn your frown upside down, Frannie Eicher.”

“I’m afraid I don’t feel like smiling much at the moment. Dr. Carlson said I have to stay another day. He feared I would do too much when I got home.” Then, of course, there had been Micah’s disturbing visit. Every time she tried to relax, his words kept replaying in her mind.

“I can see you being disappointed that you’re not at your inn. You always have been a hard worker.” Making himself comfortable in the chair next to her bed, he kicked his legs out and crossed his ankles. Smiling, he said, “To tell you the truth, I never liked being stuck in hospitals, either.” Looking around her room, he added, “These rooms have always reminded me of old oatmeal, so cold and boring.”

As usual, the sheriff could outtalk a preacher and charm a rattle from a rattler. On a normal day, Frannie would’ve made a quip right back. Teased him about how he shouldn’t be lurking around hospital rooms, anyway.

But she wasn’t up for joking.

And though he was good at making conversation, she knew he wasn’t there just to make her smile.

“Are you here to discuss the investigation?”

“Actually, ah, there are some things we need to discuss.”

“All right.”

As if she wasn’t lying beside him, struggling to breathe, the sheriff shuffled in the pockets of his jacket for a pen and reading glasses. Then he rummaged around for a small spiral notebook. After slipping on his glasses and flipping through several sheets, he took the cap off his pen and looked at her again.

Frannie held her breath as a dozen questions filled her head. She wondered why Luke hadn’t come to give her any breaking news. She wondered what the sheriff could have found that had made him stop by and visit her here in the hospital room. He’d already been there this morning with her father.

He took a breath. “Frannie, it’s come to my attention that you and Perry went walking at the Millers’ farm a time or two. Henry Miller saw you there himself . . . as did a few other people.”

Scrambling to keep her emotions in check, she replied, “Yes. We did. Perry liked to go on walks. I . . . I know we were trespassing.” Against her will, images of being with Perry filled her head. Reminding her of how little she’d known him. And how flighty she’d been, so happy that a man like him had turned to her after Lydia Plank had broken his heart. How she’d been so sure she could draw him back to his roots.

She’d been a fool.

“When you went to the farm . . . where did you go?”

Frannie closed the one eye that wasn’t bandaged, mainly in an attempt to buy herself some time. She knew exactly where they went. But could she tell the sheriff? That seemed foolhardy.

“Oh, we only walked around,” she murmured. “The Millers’ property is big, and not used much anymore.”

“It is big. And what you say is true. Much of their fields are fallow. So where did you and Perry walk to?”

Though it was no excuse, she couldn’t help adding, “A lot of people cut through the land. It’s in the center of town.”

“I’m aware other people walk through.” His voice was sharper now. Gone was his usual gossipy nature, when his words were slow and his voice was tinged with humor.

Now his tone echoed Luke’s. The difference was unsettling.

“Sheriff, I haven’t walked through the Millers’ land since. Since, you know . . . when Perry and I were still courting.”

“When you two walked, when you were still courting . . . where did you walk?”

“I’m not sure I remember, exactly.”

“Frannie, some honesty would be mighty appreciated about now. I’ve asked you the same question several times and you’ve done your best to not answer. I’d like you to answer me.”

His voice was as stern as she’d ever heard it. “Yes, sir.”

“Let’s begin, then. Where, exactly, did you two go, when you went walking on the Millers’ land?”

“Sometimes, we . . . we, uh, walked in the woods near the highway.” Remembering how secretive Perry had been, how emotional and tumultuous his moods had been, she added, “Perry liked to walk there, because it was hidden.”

“And?”

“And sometimes we would kiss.” She felt her cheeks flush. Here she was, twenty years old, practically covered in bandages. But still blushing.

“I want to know other places you walked on Millers’ farm, Frannie. Did you two go anywhere else?”

One image flashed forward as clear as day. Even though she’d tried so very hard to forget, it seemed determined to never go away. “Yes . . .”

He crossed one leg over the other and stared at her.

And that’s when she knew he knew the truth.

“Sometimes we walked in the Millers’ west field.” She looked at Sheriff Kramer. “Do you know the one I mean? It’s the field that begins right across from the high school.”

“The one with the well?” he asked softly.

“Jah.” She swallowed hard and told herself to speak clearly. To force back the worst images and concentrate on the facts. “The last time Perry and I went walking on the Millers’ farm together, we were in that field near the high school.”

“When was this?”

She swallowed hard. “December.”

“When in December?”

“The thirty-first.”

His gaze sharpened. “On New Year’s Eve. So you saw him right before he went missing.”

She nodded, feeling the dark emotions that had cloaked her while she’d been in Perry’s company return. “That last time we were together, it was near twilight. We were walking alone.” She paused for a moment as the memory sharpened. “Well, Perry was walking quickly and I was struggling to keep up.”

“Why do you think he was in such a hurry?”

“I don’t know. Back then I could never guess how he would act. Or the reasons.”

“Then what happened?”

“When I caught up with him, I knew he wasn’t safe to be around.”

“And why was that?”

“His eyes were glassy.” Though it hurt to do so, she wrinkled her nose. “It had become obvious that he’d been taking drugs again.”

He started scribbling in his notebook.

Hoping to finish the interview quickly, she said, “Anyway, we stopped, and I told him I was going to go home. We got in a terrible fight.”

“What was the fight about?”

It had been about a great many things, she thought. But mainly it had been about the fact that she didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. “We fought because neither of us was going to change.” Before she lost her nerve, she shared the rest of the story. “Sheriff Kramer, we were fighting where he was found.”

“Where exactly?”

She was confused by his question. They all knew the place where Perry’s body had been discovered. “You know. Right by the well.” Oh, but she felt sick at heart now. When she’d left Perry, she’d been so disappointed by how things had ended up between them that she’d never spared a thought of what might happen to him out alone on the Millers’ land in his state.

Maybe his killer had been lurking there, just waiting for his chance to attack Perry?

She looked at Sheriff Kramer and couldn’t take it any longer. “Do you think I had something to do with his death? Is that what you are worried about? Is that why you came here to the hospital?”

“I didn’t say that.”

He was speaking so . . . so differently, not in his usual way. He was frightening her. “Mose, I mean, Sheriff, I promise you this, I did not kill Perry. I would never have killed him. We might have had our differences, but that didn’t mean I wanted him dead. You know that. Right?”

With some dismay, she realized her hands were shaking. She could never have imagined anyone would think she was capable of doing such a thing.

She paused, half waiting for him to rush to her defense. Half waiting for him to tell her that of course no one would ever think she could harm another person. After all, she was a nurturing sort.

But the sheriff didn’t respond. Only continued to scribble on his notepad.

Panic engulfed her. “Sheriff Kramer, you believe me, don’tcha?” Tension infused her voice as she rushed on. “You agree that I could never harm Perry. You agree that I’m not capable of hurting him. Right?”

Instead of nodding he looked directly at her. “Besides you wanting to go home . . . what did you and Perry talk about? Do you remember?”

Unfortunately, she remembered every bit of their conversation so clearly it could have been stamped into her head. “Perry, he wanted me to change. And to think about moving.”

Sheriff Kramer, busy writing, stopped. “Change, how?”

“He wanted me to leave the order. He wanted me to change who I was,” she explained in a rush. “Perry wanted me to become English and follow him to wherever he wanted to go.” Of course, she’d realized that those things were just the beginning. She knew that if she couldn’t change to suit his new life, she’d lose him.

“And what did you say when he asked you to change? To leave Crittenden County?”

“I told him I didn’t want to leave. And that I didn’t want to become English,” she confessed. “I said that I liked who I was, and that I had thought he’d liked me, too.”

Though she was talking to the sheriff and not a girlfriend, she finally voiced the private worries she’d been harboring. “Why did he ask me to court him if he didn’t like who I was in the first place? It makes no sense.”

Sheriff Kramer crossed his legs.

She knew he was waiting. “I told Perry that I couldn’t move. I told him that I loved my bed-and-breakfast and was hoping it would become a success.”

“And Perry, did he understand your reasons?”

She shook her head slowly. Even now his dismissal of everything that was important to her stung like a slap in the face. “Not at all. He said it was destined for failure. That no tourists would come to Crittenden County.”

“Ah.”

Frannie watched him pull the cap off the pen and scribble more on his paper. And the butterflies got worse in her stomach. She didn’t want to remember any more. She wanted to pretend that the rest of what had happened could be erased.

As she continued to hesitate, he eyed her. “And then what happened, Frannie? After he asked you to change, after you told him you wanted to leave . . . what happened?”

He wanted answers. She knew she had two choices. She could either tell the complete truth—tell Sheriff Kramer about the sunglasses that Perry gave her, tell how she’d tossed them into the woods because she’d been hurt and confused.

Or she could tell only half of the truth. Say that she ran.

If she told the full story, it would undoubtedly bring more questions. Questions about where he got the sunglasses, about the Englischers he was spending time with who she knew nothing about. If she never mentioned throwing the sunglasses or running into Jacob Schrock . . . if she said she just went home, perhaps Sheriff Kramer would be satisfied and leave. Leave her in peace. Maybe then she wouldn’t have to think about the whole incident anymore.

Maybe then she could finally move on. And not have a smidge of guilt.

There really wasn’t a choice.

“Then what happened?” she repeated, attempting to smile. “Oh, nothing much. After I told him I wouldn’t change and wouldn’t move, he was angry and upset. So I turned away and ran.”

He leaned forward. “And what did he do? Did he follow?”

“I don’t know what he did, Sheriff. I never looked back.” Her voice had been even and calm. It almost sounded truthful, even to her ears.

He looked at her sharply. “You are sure that is everything that happened?”

“Yes, Sheriff. That is all,” she lied. No longer caring if she was going to get into trouble later for lying. No longer caring what Sheriff Kramer thought of her anymore.

All that mattered right that minute was that she find a way to get the sheriff to leave her room. Even sitting by herself in a beige hospital room would be better than remembering the look on Perry’s face when she’d tossed those sunglasses into the woods.

Two minutes later, he fulfilled her wish and got to his feet. “If you happen to remember anything else, use that card I gave you and call me. Or you could tell Luke, too.” Without waiting for her response, he shuffled out, his manner looking exhausted.

He didn’t even say goodbye.

It left her unsettled and anxious, worse than she’d felt after Micah had left earlier.

Oh, how she just wanted to go home and return to her regular routine. She wanted to wait on guests at the inn and pretend that nothing mattered except cleaning rooms, making coffee, organizing the linen closets.

Five minutes after the curtains parted and his footsteps faded away, Frannie could still feel the sting of unshed tears in her eyes, her nose. A puddle welled in her good eye, and she absently wondered if crying would hurt her injured one. She didn’t care—there was nothing she could to stop the tears from spilling over.

She cried softly, hoping all the while that the patient on the other side of the curtain had been asleep and hadn’t heard her conversation with Mose. Or at the very least, wouldn’t comment on it if she had.