“Katie . . .”
Only then do I realize we’ve unearthed a dead animal. I see matted fur. The dull white of old bone. The glint of a choke collar tells me it’s a dog. Disappointment spreads through me. I stare at the carcass, denial rising. I look at my brother and choke back angry words. “Damn it, Jacob, we’ve got to find those remains.”
“Do not speak to me with your English tongue.”
I grapple for patience that has long since worn thin. “Can you stop thinking about Amish versus English? This killer makes no distinction! It could just as easily be an Amish girl next!”
“I am trying.”
“Try harder!” In some small corner of my mind I’m aware that I’m not helping the situation by losing my temper, but I can’t stop myself. “Damn it, Jacob, you owe me this.”
My brother blinks, his eyes owlish in the dim light from my flashlight. “I have no debt to you.”
“Oh, come on! A crime was committed that day! Datt swept the entire, sordid mess under the rug. That wasn’t the way it should have been handled, and you know it.”
“Datt did what he thought was right.”
“Right for whom?”
“The family.”
“What about justice for me?” I smack my chest with my open hand. “I had to go the rest of my life unable to speak of it because Datt decided everyone in our family should pretend it never happened! What do you think that did to me?”
His eyes blaze. “You were not the only one affected by the sin we committed that night.”
“I was the only one who was raped and nearly killed! I was the only one who was forced to take a life!” The rage behind my words shocks me. A voice I don’t recognize echoes within the confines of the building, harmonizing weirdly with the howl of the wind.
“All of us have blood on our hands!” Jacob hisses. “We share the same sin.”
“It was different for me! You haven’t looked at me the same since.” I run out of breath. I don’t know where this is coming from. Some emotional pressure cooker that’s been simmering unacknowledged inside me. I try to stop the words, but they gush like blood from a wound. “You didn’t stand by me. You didn’t support me when I made the decision to leave the church.”
“I still do not condone your decision.” He stares at me, his complexion strangely pale against his full beard. “But I will tell you this. If I had held the gun in my hand that day I would have killed for you. I would have gone against God’s will and taken a life because it would have been worse to not have you in this world. This is my sin, too, Katie.”
Tears threaten, but I fight them back. My own breaths billow before my face as I grapple for control. “Then why do you hate me?”
“I do not hate you.”
“You blame me. How can you hold what happened against me?”
My brother says nothing.
“Why?” I shout.
His gaze burns into mine. “I saw you smile at Daniel Lapp.”
My blood freezes in my veins. I feel myself go still as my mind tries to comprehend the meaning behind his words. “What?”
“We were in the pasture. Daniel and I were digging postholes for the fence. It was hot. You brought us lemonade. He looked at you the way a man looks at a woman. Katie, you smiled at him.”
My reaction is physical, like a fist slamming into my gut. Staring into my brother’s eyes, knowing what he is thinking—what he has believed about me all these years—and I feel sick. The old shame churns inside me, a cauldron of acid eating away at my very foundation. “How dare you insinuate what happened was my fault.”
“I am not laying blame. But I cannot change what I saw.”
“For God’s sake, Jacob, I was a kid.”
My brother’s expression closes, and I realize he doesn’t want to talk about this. He doesn’t want to hear my explanations. That I feel the need to defend myself shames me. I did what I had to do that day to save my life. But ingrained beliefs are difficult to exorcise no matter how valiant the attempt. I’ve always considered myself an enlightened woman. But I was raised Amish and some of those old values will always be a part of me.
I look around, fighting my way back to the present and the situation at hand. Once again I remind myself that I’m a police officer, that I have a murder to solve. Slowly, the dark emotions slink back into their hidey-hole.
Bowing my head, I rub at the ache between my eyes. “I can’t talk about this right now. I need to find Lapp’s body.”
He stares at me for a long while, saying nothing, then turns and walks away.
My feet throb with cold. My fingers are numb. I’m not sure if the tremors ripping through me are from the temperature or the emotions freezing me from the inside out. The one thing I am certain of is that I’ve lost my brother. Another shattering truth piled on top of a dozen others. I feel like crying, but I pick up the shovel instead. Propping my flashlight against a broken cinder block, I set the blade to the frozen earth and dig.
CHAPTER 10