“I’m sorry, but I think she may be involved with these murders.”
He goes still. “You think she killed those three people?” His gaze searches mine. In their depths, I see his mind digging into all the dark crevices of the past. Remembering things he’s been trying to forget. “How old is this woman who claims to be my sister?”
“She’s about thirty-five years old.”
Hannah goes to the sink and begins to wash her mug.
I see Hoch’s mind working over the time frame, and I know he’s doing the math. “So this woman … she could be my half sister.”
“It’s possible.”
“My mother endured much suffering.”
“Yes. You, too.”
From her place at the sink, Hannah looks at me over her shoulder, and I see tears on her cheeks. “Sell is en shlimm shtoahri.” That is a terrible story. “It breaks my heart.”
“I’m sorry.” I look at Hoch. “Can I talk to you alone?”
Wariness enters his eyes. At first I think he’s going to refuse; then he nods at his wife. “Leave us for a moment, Hannah.”
She bows her head slightly, dries her hands on a dish towel, and leaves the kitchen.
When we’re alone, I say, “In your statement, you told the police that one of the men threw the lantern down the steps and into the basement, causing the fire that killed the children.”
“Yes, that is true.”
“Blue Branson claims none of them threw the lantern. That they forced all of you into the basement without any light.”
He blinks at me, unspeaking.
That he doesn’t deny Blue’s assertion stirs a small ping of skepticism, of pain—and compassion. “Hoch, I’m not here to lay blame. You were the victim of a crime that night. I just want to make sure I have all the facts and that those facts are correct because it will have a bearing on the case. Is Blue telling the truth about the lantern? Is it possible the lantern was already in the basement and the children lit it?”
“Why does it matter?” he snaps. “They’re with God now.”
“It matters because if Blue was the cause of that fire, he’ll be charged with four additional counts of homicide.”
The Amish man lowers his face into his hands and emits a single sob. “My brothers and sisters … they were frightened of the dark. Mamm kept a lantern on the workbench where she made soap. I lit the lantern. I thought … I thought they would be all right.”
I steel myself against a rolling wave of sympathy. For him. For the children. And for the first time, I’m fully cognizant of the guilt he must have felt all these years. “It was an accident, Hoch. The kids may have panicked and somehow knocked it over.”
“It’s my fault. If I hadn’t left them … they’d still be alive. I’ve prayed for God’s forgiveness. He has given me comfort. Still, those little ones are gone because of me.”
“You couldn’t have foreseen what happened. You did your best, and that’s all any of us can do. It was an accident. God knows that, Hoch.” The words make me feel like a hypocrite; I’m the last person who has the right to talk to this man about God. Still, I believe the words. “You were trying to save your mother’s life. That was very brave.”
“The children suffered because of me.”
“Because of those men. Not you.”
Hoch hangs his head. He doesn’t make a sound, but tears stream from his eyes. He wipes his face with his shirtsleeve. “I bragged about the money. To the Englischer. He was a couple of years older than me, and I … wanted to impress him.” He utters a sad laugh. “I wanted to be cool. Like him. I told him we had jars full of money.”
“Who did you tell?” I ask.
“He’s a government man now. Johnston. He worked for my father for a few weeks. I think he must have told the others.” Pain flashes on his features. “But it was my fault. I was … prideful. That’s not the Amish way.”
I nod, understanding. “You were a kid. You didn’t know someone would act on that information.”
“God punished me. I deserved it.”
“The only people responsible for what happened are Blue Branson and the others.” I reach out and touch his shoulder. “Thank you for telling me what happened. I know it wasn’t easy.”
He raises his head, his cheeks wet. “I hear them sometimes,” he whispers. “When I go out there. I hear them crying for me from the basement.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing.
He blows out a shuddery breath. “What happens next?”
“I’m going to find Ruth Weaver.”
*